We spend a lot of time waiting at the bus stop, which is the end of our driveway. One October day I was idly picking at the place on our enormous pin oak where a chicken-of-the-woods grew out of it two years ago. The huge orange fungus left a big scar on the tree.
In the 19 years we've lived here, I could count the lizard sightings on my fingers and toes. Each summer, we see one or two northern fence lizards, usually right by this tree or scuttling along in the gravel near our garage. The only other lizard spotted here was an enormous male broad-headed skink (!) who turned up in a rotted sill of the garage. It looked like a fat golden kielbasa with a bright orange head. Too big to hold in one hand. Like nothing I'd ever seen before or since. I almost collapsed with excitement. And, but for one juvenile skink (a lovely little thing with orange and black stripes and a blue tail) that's been it for lizards.
Highly territorial, they do lizard push-ups to display this warning coloration to any interlopers. Go see! Adult males are brown with that hard-to-see electric blue underside; females are gray with wavy lines down their backs.
Back to my dilemma. I felt terrible, of course, about ruining the lizard's little home. So I wedged the bark back into place, replaced the bewildered inhabitant, and raced home for some glue. I had to rebuild it.
There followed a long cold spell during which I would occasionally dig down through the debris with my pinky to see the top of her head. Good. Still where she wanted to be.
And then came a glorious warm morning and there she was, sunning on the porch of her little glued-up house. Awww.
A couple of months later, the glue is still holding, but she has moved on. Probably moved on up in the same tree, a little higher-rent place, not so...gluey.