Iguana Problems

I’m sitting in the hammock of the tree nursery two weeks ago, enjoying the shade and catching with Sal Paradise. All of a sudden, I hear a rustle in the mango plants.

This isn’t too weird. The nursery is full of the neighborhood chickens who like to wreak havoc on small vegetable gardens. Sometimes, you will even get the occasional dog.

I didn’t think too much of it.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw an amphibious creature moving about the ground. I turned and realized it was an iguana (Someone told me it’s bad luck when an iguana crosses your path. I told them it is hilarious and awesome when an iguana crosses you path, not bad luck.)

I didn’t panic. I watched it sashay through the mango plants, and once it was out of sight, I returned to Sal’s adventures in California cotton country. My lack of reaction might be a sign of how well I’m adjusting to the culture here. (It could also be a sign of how comfortable I was in the hammock.)

Either way, I continued about my day. The next morning, I went to go check on the progress of my garden. I noticed that a few stems of cucumber plants looked like they were stepped on. Everything else was ship-shape.

I thought that was probably the work of the neighborhood dogs. I ruled out the chickens because we made an outstanding sugar-cane fence to counter our fowl issue.

The next day, I checked the garden again and noticed that more cucumber plants were damaged. None of the leaves were eaten. Just that the stem was stepped on and bent.

I asked my coworkers about what they think it might have been. They said “Picasso.” I asked who that was.

Then all eight of them paused for a second and said in unison “campout.”

So we all gathered in the nursery’s tree house that night at about 8:00. I was a little late because my mom made me put on my jacket and do the dishes. One of my friends was making s’mores. Everybody got together sleeping bags. And my bespectacled coworker started telling a story about how the old owner of the nursery kept an iguana around to guard against thieves trying to steal bananas. Every time a thief entered the banana fields, he disappeared forever.

Well, the iguana got too good at his guard-iguana job. So they police said he had to retire and be restricted to the confines of the nursery. And that’s where we stand today.

How this explains what happened to the cucumbers, I don’t know.

I’ll probably have to outrun the iguana pretty soon in a dramatic race. I have to wait until my PF Flyers arrive before that happens, though.

In all seriousness though, my coworkers have named him Picasso and have no idea how to get rid of him. One coworker did suggest that we come to the nursery at night to observe what happens.

If anybody has any ideas for how to get rid of this pest before he eats all of my cucumber, let me know.

Please help me out on this one. I have no iguana experience. Before I came to Ecuador, the majority of my iguana experience came while looking at the Iguana Entertainment mascot spin a basketball on his finger as I waited for NBA Jam to load. And I don’t think Picasso plays basketball.