Lizards bite

A collared lizard hatchling demonstrates his total lack of fear. (Photo courtesy of Loretta Lynn, freelance travel writer)

Before I tell the story of my being attacked and bitten by a vicious and aggressive reptillian beast, let me assure you I have recovered from my wounds. I know how concerned you are for my well-being.

After all, it’s not every day one meets a ferocious and deadly relative to a dinosaur and survives the attack. Okay, maybe this angry lizard wasn’t really deadly, but the bite was an aggressive act of violence aimed at me. Well, maybe “violence” is too strong a term since we are talking about a collard lizard hatchling that was barely two inches long. Still a lizard bite is nothing to laugh at.

Okay, truth be told, I did laugh.

What happened was I was hiking the public trails at the Konza Prairie Biological Station with a small group that included a couple of freelance travel writers who were visiting the Flint Hills. Loretta Lynn works out of Florida and has a variety of projects she manages, including an online sports magazine and a travel blog, where she has already posted some pictures from our hike. Bobby Hickman lives in Georgia and has a company that does everything from copy editing to technical writing as well as articles for travel publications.

The day started out in a steady drizzle, but the grass was tall and our two fellow hikers showed all the curiosity and sense of adventure as is befitting good travel writers. So we made our way to the top of the first flint hill along the Konza’s nature trail. There, the rain stopped and the sun fought to make an appearance. We talked of the tallgrass prairie, turkeyfoot, Indian grass, flint, limestone, bison, and cattle.

As we were making our way down the gravel path, Bobby called us over to see a lizard he spotted on the trail. I was very impressed with Bobby’s eye for detail. The day was cool and wet and the little lizard wasn’t moving very quickly. He was trying to hide under some gravel, but without success. Dark black with yellow stripes running across his body, the lizard was striking a very aggressive pose, showing us his open jaws.

The lizard was a hatchling, but the dark coloring threw me off. I thought it was the shape of a collard lizard, especially around the head (see the WordPress avatar I use for myself on this blog). But collared lizards are normally much lighter in color, so I wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.

Adult collared lizards are much lighter in color. Not too many, however, have a piercing on their tail with beads attached.

I thought it best to move our angry little friend off the path before someone stepped on him, but picking him up proved tricky. He was so tiny and fragile, I felt he might go squish between my fingers if I just grabbed him. Not something you want to do in front of folks who might write about my cruelty to animals.

I tried so scoop him up by sliding my fingers, which were bigger than he was, under his body.

That’s when the lizard solved my dilemma for me. When my finger got close enough, he tried to take a bite out of it. I couldn’t feel anything, but he was firmly attached to my fingertip, making it easy to pick him up, actually.

Loretta got a photo of the little beasty sitting on my hand (see above). She also has a better shot of his aggressiveness at her travel blog (click on “Flint Hills”}. Even in my hand, the little critter was as defiant as a lipstick-wearing pit bull (oops, can I say that? How about lipstick on a pig? On a collared lizard?).

After placing the tiny dinosaur in the tall grass, out of harm’s way, we finished a great hike. My only other discomfort was having to hear members of our hiking party ask me if I was about to die from the attack and how large again was that predator that bit me.

From the photo, the educators at the Konza identified the lizard most definitely as a collard lizard hatchling. I was also assured that collard lizards hatch in late summer, so it’s normal for such a tiny critter to enter the winter months.

Actually, this wasn’t my first bite from a reptile. Maybe someday I’ll tell the story of how I was attacked by a giant man-eating snake. Well, actually, it was a ribbon snake that confused my little toe for a worm, but that doesn’t sound as exciting.