Lizard on the umbrella

My wife said our cormorant was having problems swallowing a fish, so I went outside to see. The cormorant is not “our” bird, any more than fish in the pond are our fish or Sandhill cranes that wander by are our cranes. But, as far as we know, only one cormorant fishes in the pond out back, so we have a sense of possession.

The cormorant tried to swallow the fish while swimming, and apparently could not do two things at one time. The bird straightened its neck and pulled back and straightened again. Then it was on the bank and able to concentrate only on swallowing the fish, which it quickly did.

That was when the lizard made its appearance on the patio table umbrella. The umbrella is closed, and the lizard clung to a lower part. The lizard is between three and four inches long, gray-black and spotted. It has a forked tail. Maybe that has something to do with its honesty among lizards.

My wife had described the lizard several days ago, but today was the first time I got a close look. I walked nearer the umbrella. The lizard expanded its throat, opening an orange sac. “I am a bad lizard. You best leave me alone.” The lizard closed the sac, its message delivered. I put a hand against my throat and wiggled my fingers. The lizard showed its orange sac, twice.

“Perhaps you were unaware of the meaning of my previous message. I am a bad lizard. If you attack me, I will do terrible things to you. Flee while you have the opportunity.”

I throat-wiggled my fingers. The lizard ran into the top of the umbrella and disappeared.

Victory to the human.