Every now and then, you come across a place where time and chance have created a seemingly utopian habitat for a particular species or family of wildlife. This morning was such a discovery. As fierce sunlight began to sweep across the valley floor of Cathedral Gorge, droves of lizards emerged from their shrubs, sand holes and dry river beds–blue bellies, tiger whiptails and fence lizards all combining in a blood-warming frenzy of feeding, chasing, fighting and mating.
More than once, we became the target audience for territorial males doing push ups, their blue throats extended and their tiny black eyes looking us over, as if wholeheartedly expecting us to back away–to abandon camp.
At one point, a whiptail, emboldened by the melee, caught a large moth under our car and carried it away, still fluttering, in its mouth. Another small blue belly found itself at home in the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and only emerged, reluctantly, as the heat from the fire finally made the dwelling unbearable.
For several hours, it was impossible to glance around the landscape without the eye catching some movement on the ground or for the ear to hear some rustling in a nearby bitterbrush. Even the campground firewood pile became the octagon for two quarreling males. All around, the spectacle was in full swing. It was early summer in the desert; opening ceremonies for the lizard kingdom.
The Desert Toad 