Anolis sagrei sagrei
This Cuban anole, a subspecies of the brown anole (Anolis sagrei), is an invasive lizard that has followed development from the Caribbean northward. It favors open and disturbed lands and can inhabit with a density of about one anole per square meter. This means that these skittering miniature dinosaurs are unbiquitous underfoot on the sandy ground of west-central Florida. A step from the raised deck in back onto the Laurel oak (Quercus hemisphaeric) leaf littered ground causes skittering and scurrying in every direction as the sun-bathing invaders jump from my path. They are never stepped upon, they are too quick for that, and they move with a decided determination that does not leave one nervous about their return. The brown anole is a successful invasive. It has nearly replaced the native green anole (Anolis carolinensus), the only anole endemic to the United States, in Florida and southern Georgia. Whether brown or green, these tiny lizards eat insects and other creepy crawly ground dwelling life forms. They side with the colonizers, perhaps not eliminating undesireable creepers, but certainly doing more than their share. They will flare a throat fin to scare you off if you enter their territory, delimited three dimensionally: they have a specific height that is theirs as well as plots of ground. Spring eggs hatch into summer hatchling and winter adults. I walk throught their colony, a stranger, lead-footed. They skitter up the side of the garage and watch me go.

Florida is nothing more than a giant slab of limestone that broke free from the African plate some 350 million years ago and drifted toward the North American plate striking land 25 million years ago. It is the baby lands of this nation, the youngest place to live. Only sand has gathered on top of the limestone basement, silcate and ground up sea life, more limestone in the making. Rains pour through the surface, no soil. Plants must take what they can from the over humid air and the afternoon showers that scattershot puddles across this flat land. Puddles that drain before the count of ten. Another day, the same process all over again. This is a land filled with excess energy, too much sun. But balances are struck within hours of extremes, there is no other option under these conditions. The world, perhaps, has something to learn from the Florida rains, the determined balance of energies, the skittering brown anole, never underfoot.