A Roundtail Horned Lizard
Thanks to Sondra for identification
The most curious thing I saw I did not photograph. A not-so-rare bare-bellied retired lawyer in sun glasses looking at the water.
He had his own take on things. "Somewhere else I'd have to pay $50 for this view. Here it's free. All I have to do is come here. And there is nobody else around."
It's Saturday and the lawyer has come to town from his home to the south "to drink and dance." He looks out at the water and then seems to look inward.
"It's my destiny," he says, "and I've always known it, one day to be killed by a jealous husband. Why fight destiny?"
"Those years when I was practicing law," he says. "I was in prison."
Yet being out of prison is no picnic either.
"I like to be alone most of the time," he says. "Then I get these moods in which I have to get out and see people."
We've had good spring rains and the cactus are doing what cactus are supposed to do &mdash suck it in. On the hills above the river, flowers bloom. Lizards scurry. And a hundred tiny footprints in the sand mark the places where daytime and nighttime battles raged, where desert hawks zoomed in search of desert mice.
On the way back I pass a fisherman. "Any luck?" I ask. "Nope," he says. "It's hot for this time of the year, and the river is low."
When I pass the parking lot the lawyer has gone—back at his motel no doubt putting on fresh cloths and heading to the Groovy Gritz, where there's a band tonight. And who knows, maybe some action.