Among the communities of the Blue Tailed Skinks and Carolina Anoles, the legend of the Golden Monster continues to grow. She terrorizes stray lizards, not discriminating between young of old. Any who are so careless as to be found out in the open are subjected to her slow, torturous but playful manner of slaying them. When she trees one under a shrub, she begins to stamp her great, golden paw paw, attempting to drive out the victim through tremors and fear. Upon being captured, the reptile is paraded around the yard, loosely but securely held in her clenched jaws; often the monster executes more than one victory lap in search of the first location at which the playful terrorizing will begin.
Upon finding that spot, she lays down and lets the victim loose; as he tries to burrow or scurry away, she paws at him, reigning him in. Perhaps she even lets him stray far enough to hope of escape, only to pounce, and cart him to another part of the yard. She will then let him go again, only to roll on her back and nip at him while upside down or roll over him, smothering him in golden fur. But eventually, their tailless bodies are broken between teeth or beneath a paw. Either their will or ability to live, or both, is extinguished. Occasionally, one will be so bold as to defend himself, biting back, attaching himself to the monster's sensitive lips, but even that only serves to hasten his all-too-certain death.
A few have been rescued and survived. But for the others, all that remains is scales and skeletons, the rest having been claimed by ants. For the most part, the skinks and anoles have begun to make themselves scarce. They are not safe on the ground or under shrubbery, but only high up on walls and fences. And even when they're out, they're skittish, scurrying with abandon from anything that is large and moves, particularly Darby, my golden retriever.
|Blue Tailed Skink on the Run :: Fultondale, Alabama|