A Sunday of coastal lizards

Last weekend I did what works best for me when I need to clear my head: escaping to the beach, not to the wide crowded part, but to that rocky stretch where the sea crashes more fiercely and people almost never bother to go because, among other things, I love the sea. Not just its vastness or the sound of the waves, but what it hides in its corners.

I arrived early, with the sun still horizontal, and sat on a smooth rock to look around. The air smelled of salt and dry seaweed, and suddenly a quick movement between the cracks caught my attention. I leaned in carefully and there they were, some small brownish grey lizards with a darker line on their sides and a very long coiled tail. I already knew what they were called, I had seen them in photos before: coastal lizards. The name always seemed to me an adorable contradiction because they are not dogs, they do not play fetch, nor do they bark, but they have something playful and wary at the same time that makes them endearing.

They were shy, I found that out immediately because as soon as I tried to move my phone a couple of centimetres closer, they ran away as if I had made the worst noise. They hid among the rocks, under the limpets, in cracks that seemed impossible, but I am stubborn and besides, I had time.

I stayed still, without making sudden movements, waiting while I learned not to look at them directly, to pretend I was watching the horizon while following them out of the corner of my eye. Little by little, they began to come out again, first the boldest one, poking out its head, and then another, smaller one, stretching out in the sun on a hot rock. And then, without thinking too much, I took out my phone with the gentleness of someone who does not want to burst a bubble and I shot several times, almost blindly. Most came out blurry or with the tail already disappearing behind a rock.

And so here are these photos with the coastal lizard posing sideways, one front paw resting on the rock as if it knew that was its best angle, while it looks at me with a round, bright eye, as if saying, okay, I will let you have this one, but do not push it.

I went home with sand stuck to my feet and the happiness of those small victories. I did not bring back a treasure or live a great adventure, but just the photo of a lizard was more than enough.

_{🌊 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 🌊
𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒂 𝑪𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐’𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒓.
𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 100% 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏-𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 (𝒏𝒐 𝑨𝑰).
𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒊.
𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕? 𝑼𝒑𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚! 💙}