Nomadic. Storyteller. Soul searcher. Experience hungry. Music carnivore. Dreamer of better things. They call me H.C. You can find stories about my travels, stories from my decades on earth, and thoughts about why the world turns in our vast universe.
Back in the early 1990’s, we had an Iguana living in our apartment. Herman, as he was affectionately called, grew to be about three and half feet long before he decided to escape out our window, scale down the second floor apartment building, and be a free reptilian.
We never saw him again, and honestly I wasn’t too broken up about it. Iguana’s remind me of snakes with legs, and God knows I’m not a fan of snakes.
I tell you this as a preface to our close encounter with the biggest Iguana my brother and I had ever seen. As we were checking out the Castillo de San Cristobal fort, we started noticing Iguanas everywhere : on the sides of the old fort walls, at doorway entrances, on rock piles and camouflaged in the grass.
I was a little freaked out, but kept it together until we came to a bridge crossing. We gasped and possibly screamed at the sight of one monster Iguana seemingly guarding the bridge. He looked to be over six feet long if he was an inch.
the picture doesn’t do justice to the size of the beast
I stood back, frozen. My brother precariously climbed the wall and tried shaking his backpack to get him to move. The Iguana only stared us down, begging us to come just a little closer so he could pounce on his victims.
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