The ceramic iguana imitates its Galapagos cousin. Camouflaged on my caramel marble table, the creature poses with its head turned; the long un-tapered neck, stripes, scales, irregular layers of fringed collar and ridged back recall its prehistoric ancestry. Its front paws straddle; its upper body lifted proud. The tail is positioned like a turned rudder, ready to paddle. The iguana’s lidless eyes, unblinking survey the landscape of my living room. In contrast in Greynolds Park last week, the species’ real-life counterpart just idled also, blending in and barely seen. An etched, well-tanned, wrinkled-forehead man sauntered near the creek. He squinted with drooping eyes; then raised his head startled. The older man distinguished one of these miniature dinosaur reptiles in the tall grasses at water’s edge. Splash, the creature was gone.
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