Sarah and I have had some misadventurous moments since moving into our apartment, but the most interesting so far has been the epic Hunt of the Lizard (or: The Perilous Quest of the Lightning-Endowed Skink). Well, anyway I thought it was the best, until Emily told us about the bat in her apartment, but that’s another story.
A week ago, on Sunday, I was getting ready to leave for church (Sarah’s service was later) when Sarah, who was sitting on the couch, sat up abruptly, and said, “There’s a lizard under our coach.” I thought this was sort of cool, while Sarah started freaking out and calling Jason (our friend who’s a forestry major) asking him if any lizards in Missouri were poisonous. I told her to get a plastic cup (I was NOT having a Wild Animal in any dishware we were going to use again, washed or no), and then lift up the coach while I captured it in the cup.
Whether or not this plan would have worked or not is a moot point, for when she lifted the couch I was presented with the sight of a dark spot of lizard at the back, a sight more disconcerting than I expected, and a dead cricket closer at hand, which completely put me over the edge. Sarah, at this point, decided to be the brave one, so we switch places. But we she leaned over with the cup, the lizard just—disapperated*. I didn’t even see it move, that’s how fast it was. At that point Sarah and I both jumped and started screaming, which poor Jason had to listen to, as he was still on speakerphone.
At that point I wished Sarah good luck and left for church (I know, how sweet of me.) When I came back, the lizard was still not caught, though Jason and Scott had come over and chased it around the apartment, until it ran into a hole in the wall (that’s just great). They shoved paper down it, and Sarah planned to call maintenance to caulk it up later, though I was not thrilled with an idea of having a dead lizard in our walls. Have a mentioned that the other side of the hole, if it went anywhere, would be my bedroom? Sarah asked me to keep an eye on the hole when I could, just in case, and I waved her off with a non-committal hand wave.
For the next few hours I sat at my desk, typing out a transcript for the Missourian (ugh!). I was almost finished when I looked up, and saw, poised in the doorway as if to say hello, the lizard. It stayed there for half a second, then dashed into my closet. “Oh no you don’t,” I muttered. “No lizard in living in MY closet.” I set about methodically pulling everything off the floor of the closet. Every time I pulled one item out, the lizard would dart under the next. Finally I was down to one 3-drawer cart, which I pulled out into the middle of the room. At this point the lizard followed it to the middle of the room, and I realized that one plastic cup was not going to be sufficient to catch this foe, as I did not intend to touch it. I ran into the kitchen and got another cup, then ran back.
I suppose it is obvious that for all my bravado, this little creature terrified me more than I care to say. So it was with a pounding heart that I yanked up the cart and faced the lizard. It stayed still, but seemed ready at any moment to dark off, under some huge piece of furniture, no doubt. Slowly, slowly, I lowered the two cups until there was one in front of the lizard’s face and one right behind its tale. If the lizard ran forward or backward, it was mine. If it dashed to the side, all was lost. I paused for a moment, unwilling to make the next move. Then, I hardly remember what I did, but the lizard ran forward into the cup, and I scooped it upright.
All of a sudden it put on its burst of speed, skittling against the side of the cup frantically. But I had it! In triumph I took it outside, set it down while I grabbed my digital camera to take pictures, and then took it down to the pool to show Sarah, to reassure her that it was, indeed, out of our apartment. Then, after showing it off to everyone at the pool, I let it go in the vines, where I could hear lots of other lizards shuffling around. And that is the story of how I became a successful lizard hunter.
(I’ll try to add a picture later, only then you’ll all laugh at me, since it was so small.)
* If you don't know this term, you probably missed the Harry Potter craze.
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