“…and this woman wrote on NextDoor, ‘Someone’s pet antelope must have escaped! I saw it in my front yard,” my friend shared with a grin, barely able to stifle her giggles as she recounted the story she’d read online. She continued, “And then she wrote, ‘Where do I report this?'” We sputtered and laughed hysterically, knowing full well that antelope are native to where we live in Arizona. Pet antelope? I think not!
I knew that lots of people moving into this beautiful state, perhaps conditioned by their big city upbringing, were unaware of the vast variety of wildlife that are our neighbors in our community. Terrified newbies warn of bobcats, snakes, coyotes and javelina in the neighborhood, while locals rejoice at a siting of one of these beautiful creatures, feeling blessed by their presence. So the long time locals strive to gently educate those who are new to the area; that this land belongs to the animals, and we are guests here. The animals and other critters, such as scorpions, spend most of their time trying to avoid and ignore us, not hunt us down.
I thought about how, many years ago, I stepped on a scorpion in my house in the middle of the night, and spent two painful weeks recovering from it. (I did everything wrong after I got stung, and exacerbated the condition.) The scorpion was scooped up and put into a jar, totally forgotten on a shelf during my recovery. Amazingly, it survived without food and water, and I was able to release it into the arroyo where it sprang to life as soon as it hit the ground. It was beautiful to watch, and I felt no malice towards that small creature who was just trying to defend itself as my foot nearly crushed it.
I reflected on those precious moments last night as I gently scooped up what I thought was a black and white lizard, before my kitty could kill it. It didn’t look or behave like a regular lizard, who would have fought to wriggle free from my fingers. Instead it nuzzled its head against my forefinger with such gentleness, as if to thank me. When I took it outside, it did not seem to want to be set free, but finally reluctantly moved on into the night, glancing back at me as if to nod goodbye. I was mesmerized by the way it had nuzzled me, and had noticed how incredibly soft its skin was, not dry and scaly. I felt so blessed by its touch. It was like a first, beautiful kiss. And, I knew it felt blessed by my gentle touch as well.
Prior to that moment, I had never held a lizard in my hand, although I had lived in Arizona for 32 years and rescued many by using a piece of paper to scoop them into a cup. The conditioning from my upbringing in Los Angeles (that lizards spread diseases) had turned me into a scaredy-cat when it came to handling critters. I was actually as naive as the woman on NextDoor who had written about the “pet” antelope. (I’m still giggling over that one as I write this.)
But, on this particular day there had been a turning point; a story that changed my life and would deepen my relationship with critters:
Kim, a sweet, young client and friend of mine, told me about a sparrow she had rescued. She always seems to gravitate towards animals in despair, as this was not the first one she had mercifully rescued over the years. She put the bird on her shoulder as she drove an hour to the animal rescue. She gave it kisses and told it to enjoy the sunshine and the view of the world outside the windshield. She whistled to it, and it whistled back.
I thought of her boldness in touching the critters of nature as I reached for the lizard last night.
We are here upon this school called planet earth to love and be loved, to touch and be touched. Turns out the lizard that my kitty was playing with was likely a leopard gecko. Hence the softness of its skin, and the gentleness of its nature. Something I would never have known without touching it.
