Yesterday, some friends invited me to a barbecue in nice, wooded area near Vitoria-Gasteiz. While walking the trail from where we parked the car to the place where the barbecue was going to take place I was attacked by several butterflies. When I say attacked, I mean that the butterflies crossed my path at a distance of less than 18 inches. I had never seen so many wild butterflies in my life. Every single time it happened, I jumped, flinched, and squeaked, much to the amusement of the others, who then proceeded to tease me endlessly about the attacking butterflies. "Butterflies don't bite," they told me. "Maybe not," I replied, "but they are big and fly right at me and I don't like it."
As the afternoon went on, I grew more accustomed to the butterflies, and no longer flinched every time they fluttered by gracefully. I even got to the point where I almost wished one would land near me so I could get a closer look at it. Little did I know that it wouldn't be a butterfly that I would be getting up close and personal with.
After eating the deliciously barbecued lunch, in true Spanish fashion, we decided to take a siesta. We took our positions in the shade of one of the nearby trees and prepared for a good nap. Unfortunately, the place I had chosen was the first to lose its shade. Not wanting to suffer a terrible sunburn, I decided to move and take my nap on a low wall a short distance from the others that had no chance of being in the sun.
We didn't end up taking real naps because there were a few of us and we decided that talking and trying to avoid the water being thrown on us by another friend were a better use of our time than taking a nap. Not wanting to lose my perfect perch in the shade atop the wall, I participated in the conversation from there. During the conversation, I noticed a small (five to six inch long) lizard walking along the ledge towards me. I wasn't afraid of or bothered by the lizard in any way. In fact, I was rather keen on watching the lizard.
Now, I know you're thinking "Rita, you're not afraid of a lizard walking towards you, but you flinch at a butterfly. These things don't make sense." Actually, they do. You see, butterflies fearlessly fly at you with no regards for your feelings, but lizards, on the other hand, run away at the slightest movement, making them notoriously difficult to take pictures of. I was afraid of the butterflies because they weren't afraid of me, but I wasn't afraid of the lizard because it was afraid of me. You can't be afraid of something if that thing is afraid of you, it's just that simple.
So there I was, watching the lizard inch closer to me, skittering back to its starting point on the ledge with each little movement of mine. Eventually, the slight gestures and movements no longer bothered the lizard and it got closer than ever. One of my friends said something, and I turned my head to respond, sending the lizard back once again to its starting point. It was then that I realized that the lizard wanted to walk precisely where I was sitting. The lizard could have gone behind me, or it could have climbed to the vertical part of the wall and gone around me, but no, it was determined to walk in a straight line without deviating from its path. Being as accustomed as I am to getting lost, I completely understood the lizard's sentiment of not wanting to deviate, but it would have been easier for everyone involved if it had just gone around.
After a standoff with the lizard of more than 20 minutes, I decided to take the high road and let the lizard walk in the place where I was sitting. Plus, I was curious to see if my theory was correct. I jumped off the wall and joined the others, keeping an eye on my little friend to see what it would do. Lo and behold, I was right. After just a few seconds, I watched, amused, as the lizard scurried directly over the place in which I had been sitting and continue on its merry way. Why was it necessary that the lizard walk exactly where I was sitting? I'm sure I'll never know.
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| This is not the lizard in question, but it is the only picture I have of a lizard of the same species. |
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