When visiting the Florida Keys one feels as if one has entered a foreign realm. Neither the plants nor animals have any direct northeasterly comparisons. There are no palm or mangrove trees on the beaches of Connecticut. Prehistoric looking pelicans do not swoop down catching fish with their pterodactyl-like beaks in Stamford harbor. And a 60 degree day in February in Danbury does not require long pants and down jackets, which is what you see the locals wear down here. But the strangest thing to me in the Keys is the population of iguanas.
These Jurassic-like lizards run rampant over the Keys much like wild chickens do in Kauai. In fact, according to my wife Juana, iguanas really do taste like chicken. Her mother used to buy them in the marketplace in Guatemala for her father when the family tired of domesticated meat. “My mother would not be grossed out,” said Juana. “And my father loved a game meal.”
But like Kauai, few of the locals appear to trap and ingest this natural albeit organic protein. I can’t blame them because unlike chicken there is nothing cute or unthreatening about this multi-colored reptile, which includes a spectacular iridescent green species. An iguana can be up to 6 feet long including its tail. Besides nasty looking claws on their feet and serrated, half-diamond shaped teeth in their mouths, they have a row of sharp spines that run from head to tail. So this is something I am not going to approach casually. They hang out in trees, on fences and anywhere they want munching a tasty palm frond or a flower as they are herbivores. But what they like most is a nice, hot sunny spot. The hotter, the better.
In Islamorada, where we are staying, there are wonderful bike paths from one end of the town to the other. To me there are few pleasures more sublime than peddling my bike on a car-less path or trail on a sunny, windless day. And as it happens at a certain time of day—between 3 and 4 pm—there is a section of the bike trail where the iguanas of Islamorada gather to take in the rays; it is across from Anne’s Beach near one end of Lower Matecumbe Key. And I believe the reason that this stretch of bike path becomes Spa Iguana is that the sun at this time of day lines up exactly with the black asphalt bike path.
The result of this phenomenon is that dozens of these spiny tropical denizens line themselves up perpendicular to the sun and the trail. Looking like a squat scaly version of Easter Island statues, they peer out, silent and motionless toward the water. . .until you approach them. Then it gets interesting.
Approached, most of them bid a hasty retreat toward the nearby mangroves that line Florida Bay. But some, particularly the big ones, decide to linger and stare you down. They are loathe to move from their toasty warm spot. So you have a decision to make. Do you slow down eventually coming to a stop? Do you just proceed and potentially run them over? Do you turn around? The choices reminds me of how I handle dealing with the suicidal squirrels in the North who play chicken with me and my truck. But here it is a game of iguana I am playing and I am not encased within a 3,000-pound plus pickup; it is just my 25-pound bike and exposed, skinny bare legs.
So yesterday as I was biking on the path a little after 3 pm, the iguanas were in place and acting as they often do except there were some not on the road but the grassy berm between the bike path and U.S. 1. I figured everything was safe and good as they were further from the path and looking away from it. Wrong! Even though I slowed down a crazy troop of young iguanas decided at the last possible moment to make kamikaze runs toward the front wheel of my bike as I was passing at 12 miles an hour. Most of them made it. Most. But one didn’t have the luck or speed and I ran it over. I came to a quick stop and the remaining iguanas scattered.
I was lucky. I imaged a lizard trapped in the spokes of my wheel, jamming it, causing me to fly over the handlebars. I could see the paramedics being called and my escapade being written up in a local newspaper as, “Iguana Takes Down Senior Tourist.” I would have to go to the bike store to have the unlucky reptile extracted from my front bike fork leading to further embarrassment. Perhaps I would be ticketed by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission for animal cruelty. But such worries were for naught as the crushed iguana followed its buddies into the brush. But then I considered what if I had killed it? Is it mine to bring home as is a deer that you hit with your car in Connecticut? Does Juana remember her mother’s secret recipe for iguana and how to prepare it? Would I get arrested peddling my bike with an iguana tied to my luggage rack? All of those questions soon faded, however, as the road ahead beckoned. And without signs of a single iguana I jumped back on my bike and peddled away.
3 Comments
Iguana poutine might be nice.
You paint such a colorful story, Erik — and what a lovely place to ‘plant’ yourselves at this time of year! I am familiar with the Keys, including the many creepy-crawlies that co-exist with you. Can’t speak for THEIR taste, but I can tell you that alligator tastes like chicken and I wonder if they’re from the same ‘lineage?” After all, there IS a resembleance. Personally, I’d stick to the Key Lime pie!
They are both reptiles though they come from different families. Iguanas from the Iguanidae family and alligators from the family Alligatoridae. At some point we all come together, so to speak, from a evolutionary perspective. Glad you enjoyed the post.