Late one afternoon, bordering on early evening, I sat for a few minutes to watch birds.  The day was settling down and the sun, while bright, was low on the horizon.  Pollinators and birds were active as they wrapped up the day.

Spring migration in underway and the pond in my back garden is a draw for weary feathered travelers to rest, bathe, and drink.  I’ve only observed a few migratory birds so far this spring: some Orange-crowned warblers, a few American Goldfinches, one or two Lincoln Sparrows.  Still, one never knows what the garden will offer.

This particular evening, the garden offered up an alien–a little green guy.

Running along the top of the fence, he pause, listened, then dashed under the cover a twining vine.  I lost him for a minute, then he peeked out from the foliage and gave me the stink eye.  This little green fella, this Green AnoleAnolis carolinensis, was out and about and on the hunt.  Afterall, it was dinnertime.

Just after this shot, he darted into the body of the vine.  Shortly afterwards, I saw him smack his mouth in satisfaction, presumably after eating something, or someone:  bee, or moth, or beetle–only the little green anole knows.

He didn’t lick his chops, but he might as well have.

Joining in today with Anna’s Flutter and Hum and her wonderful Wednesday Vignette.  Please pop over for garden, nature, and other musings.


22 thoughts on “Alien

  1. Adorable little guy (gal?). I read somewhere we interpret lizards as kind of “glaring” because they don’t have eyelashes or eyebrows. Which made me laugh, because can you imagine an anole staring at you with one raised brow?

    Happy Wednesday lady!


    • That’s interesting about the no-eyebrow-glaring-look thing. It makes sense though. I can totally imagine one (or most) of them raising their eyebrows at me.


  2. Aww, what a sweetie! I wish I had lizards in my garden… Maybe if I’m successful with this year’s attempt with frogs, they will come. To my knowledge, the tadpoles I raised last spring didn’t decide to stay in my garden. At least I haven’t heard any of their song, so I assume they moved on. So, I’m giving it another try this spring. Fingers crossed!


    • He or she is cute! I’m sorry you don’t have any lizards. Is your climate just too chilly for them? I hear tree frogs in my garden during spring and early summer at night, but I’ve never seen one–they always pipe down as soon as I walk near by.

      Good luck on attracting frogs, I hope it works.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I love anoles, and I’m jealous because we don’t have them here in the north. I always enjoy seeing them during trips to Florida and other points south. We’ve had a few migratory birds, but the big rush for us usually happens in early May. Happy spring!


  4. Anole males have a red dewlap beneath their jaw that they can display as a territorial marker or to compete for a female. In our local species the extended dewlap is red and contrasts with the green body.


  5. I’ve seen more green anoles this year than in the recent past. We’ve had such an invasion of the brown that I really feared the days of the green were over. When I was leaving this morning, I counted 17 brown anoles of all sizes — some only two inches long — on a rock wall.

    But I’ve seen the green on my window screens the past couple of weeks — three floors up! — and they’ve been roaming around the bushes at ground level. I’m really happy to see them; they’re cute as can be.


    • Wow–17? That’s amazing. I have a little crew who hang out along the front of my house, hiding/living behind our window shudders and in the attached garden. My cats love to watch them from inside the house: cat on one side of the window/screen, lizard on the other.

      They really are as cute as can be!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s