This past Friday Jon found a little green anole who had a crushed back leg and missing tail. Naturally, we took him in as a rescue, fearing he would not be able to A) catch food and B) escape predators with only three legs. We improvised a round fish bowl for his new home, and named him Lucky. The kids were delighted!
Lucky didn’t really look very comfortable in the fish bowl, though. It was far too curvy for him, even with the grass and sticks we put in there to make him feel at home. After a couple days, since he was still alive, we took the plunge and bought a real terrarium for him, complete with gravel and orchid bark (apparently anoles really like orchid bark, which, just so you know, is not the actual bark of orchids). We added a couple small potted plants and voila! Instant green anole happy habitat!
Only he didn’t look so happy to me. Anna thought he looked like he was smiling. But to me, Lucky seemed to be a bit depressed… the way he gazed endlessly out the window, the way he looked at me with suspicion. He appeared to be longing for the world outside. For freedom.
Freedom. I began to feel conflicted about keeping our little friend. Is it better to live long in a new place in safety? Or to live free, risking a shorter life and even traumatic death? “Live free or die!” Right? But I don’t know… he’s an anole after all so maybe he doesn’t really mind so much or think so deeply.
So for now, we take care of him, and I think he has perked up a bit. Maybe it’s the crickets that have won him over…