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Lizards On The Loose
Tampa Bay Online
Apr 9, 2006
BOCA GRANDE - Barbara Thompson froze as a 3-foot iguana wiggled from under an island burger joint onto the warm sand, lifting its head in apparent appreciation of the toasty afternoon sun.
"Now!" yelled a member of Lee County Animal Services.
Thompson surged forward, boots thumping through the sand, reaching out in a desperate, gasping lunge with a net used to capture iguanas.
"Thwap!"
Everyone held their breath. A puff of sand hovered.
Nothing.
The dragonlike iguana vanished under the restaurant, joining perhaps 50 others.
"They are fast," said Thompson, panting from the chase. "They are a lot faster than you think."
Lee County's animal control workers, more accustomed to corralling loose dogs and cats than fleet-footed lizards, weren't out for fun. They were playing out the latest chapter in Boca Grande's 30-year saga with the spiny-tailed black iguana.
Scientists say there are about 10,000 iguanas loose on the barrier island of Gasparilla, or about 10 for every year-round resident of Boca Grande, an upscale town on the south edge of the island.
Some locals complain the ill-tempered, garden-eating, home-invading reptiles have overrun their normally placid community. Some have called for an islandwide iguana hunt, complete with a bounty paid for each tail.
The county hired Jerry Jackson, a Florida Gulf Coast University biologist, to study the best ways to rid the island of iguanas. He and animal service workers are experimenting with traps, tongs, nooses and nets.
He said the invasive lizards are more than just a nuisance. Like that of other wild species, iguana feces harbor salmonella. The lizards also are known to eat the eggs of endangered birds and gopher tortoises that live on the island. Over the years, the iguanas have dug vast networks of tunnels that jeopardize the island's sand dunes.
The prehistoric-looking lizards are routinely seen sunbathing by pools, nibbling on gardens and making their homes in attic insulation. In more than a few cases, iguanas have snaked through the sewer system and surprised residents when they lifted the toilet seat.
"They are rodents," resident Bonnie McGee said. "You set a trap, and you kill them."
Millionaire Lynch Mob?
Don't confuse Boca Grande's feisty, meat-eating reptiles with their mild-mannered cousin, the green iguana. This iguana has a dangerous spiky tail, strong jaws and sharp teeth that can easily tear through leather gloves. "They can be nasty," Jackson said.
Yet, some islanders relish their exotic neighbors and say the issue is trumped up by a few angry millionaires who don't like the iguanas going to the bathroom on their decks. Some joke that the iguana imbroglio was cooked up mainly as a way to pass time between hurricane seasons.
"Give me a break," said Delores Savas, an iguana supporter and environmental columnist for the local weekly newspaper, the Boca Beacon. "These people are supposed to be so refined, but when it comes to iguanas, they are like a lynch mob."
It wasn't always this way.
Boca Grande residents once revered their iguanas, highlighting them in tourist guides, on clothing and even in artwork. To fuel island lore, locals dubbed them the Dragons of Gasparilla Island.
In fact, county residents at one time tried to get Lee County leaders to formally designate the iguana as protected. Many restaurants encouraged patrons to feed the iguanas and provided areas for customers to watch them eat. In the iguana heyday, homeowners grew hibiscus and other plants to ensure their neighborhood lizards had plenty to eat.
The iguana population flourished as a result, up from about 2,000 a few years ago. Soon the deft swimmers were reported on neighboring islands, likely refugees of recent hurricanes. Then the creatures turned up across the bridge on the mainland, and fears grew they could soon overrun other towns. "They could survive as far north as Tampa," Jackson said.
So residents took up arms and called upon local political leaders to take action.
In March, Lee County commissioners unanimously agreed to create a special taxing district to eradicate the lizards from the island. County leaders don't know how much it would cost to wipe out the iguanas, but estimates from a few years ago pegged the price around $200,000. The cost is expected to be much higher now that so many more iguanas live on the island.
The infestation has at least momentarily turned some otherwise serene residents into savvy iguana hunters, armed with pellet guns, live traps and snares. It's become common to hear residents discuss hunting technique, death counts, and even recipes such as iguana stew (yes, they do taste like chicken).
"I used to think they were cute," said Ann Ingram, who lives in Hyde Park and has a home in Boca Grande. "Now, I've found that a pellet gun works wonders."
Ingram took a photo of a small iguana found frolicking in her toilet in February. Unsure of what to do, she grabbed a jug of bleach and poured it in.
"It just ate him up," Ingram said, with a hint of a smile.
The issue caught fire around town and in the pages of the Boca Beacon.
"Iguanas are not human. They do not deserve humane treatment," Boca Grande resident Richard Zellner wrote in a letter to the editor. "As far as I am concerned, they can be burned, shot and mutilated."
Repelling The Invasion
The spiny-tailed iguana is not native to Florida, and its origins on Boca Grande remain a mysterious local legend.
Jackson thinks someone from the island brought a couple of the iguanas back from Mexico as pets and released them later. Some locals think the pioneering iguanas were stowaways on cargo ships that came to the island years ago.
Iguanas have moved into neighborhoods from Key West to the upper reaches of Palm Beach, and experts agree they will eat their way north until the chilly climate becomes too forbidding. Iguanas like the heat and generally won't survive a good freeze. Experts say problems started in Florida when people got the lizards as pets and released them after they became too big and tempestuous.
Even Jackson has complex feelings about the iguanas in Boca Grande.
"These critters didn't ask to be here," he said, watching one poke its head out of a hole. "But when you see what they are doing to the ecosystem, what they are doing to the endangered species, they don't belong here."
A few enterprising locals have started iguana capture and removal businesses. But many residents prefer to do it on their own.
Alex Diaz owns the Barnichol, Boca Grande's only hardware store. In the past few weeks, he's sold 60 Havahart live traps, which start around $50 a piece. For iguanas, the best bait is generally rotten fruit or hibiscus leaves.
"People are really getting into it," said Diaz, who noted with some unease that iguanas have targeted fruit trees in his back yard. "It gives them something to do besides watch the iguanas eat their garden."
But Boca Grande's residents shouldn't be tricked into thinking that their flash of iguana blood-lust will eradicate the problem.
"The only good solution is for the community to put their heart into it, and put the money in up front," Jackson said. "Otherwise, they'll come right back, just as bad or worse."
CREATURE CHARACTERISTICS
The spiny-tailed black iguana is native to Mexico, large areas of Central America and the islands near Panama.
The iguanas tend to be nasty, unlike their bigger and mellower cousin, the green iguana. Spiny-tailed iguanas have strong jaws and sharp teeth that can easily draw blood. The tail has sharp, spiny scales that can cause injury. They often hiss and spit violently when threatened.
Young spiny-tailed iguanas eat insects, eggs and roadkill. As the lizards mature, they feed mostly on plants, although they won't pass up dead fish, rodents and the occasional bird.
A female iguana can lay 50 eggs in a season. They can easily grow to 3-feet long and live more than seven years.
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