The Iguana Hunt
If you trigger easily...stop here.
On Hubs birthday we always try to make it memorable with a fun excursion, trip or get together. Previous celebrations have included snowmobiling in Yellowstone, winter parties with fondue and probably more that I can’t recall. This last one was celebrated with friends here in Florida who were visiting from Idaho.
We booked an Iguana Hunt in Ft. Lauderdale. Because we can. Because we must.
Invasive green iguanas have been spreading through Florida for years. They have been introduced by people who just let them go after they are done having them as a creepy pet. The lizards, which come from Central and South America, have powerful tails and sharp teeth and claws. They lay clutches of 14 to 76 eggs, and once they grow to two feet long, they have almost no natural predators. In parts of Florida, iguanas have become so abundant that they can be seen dashing across roadways and sidewalks, swimming in canals, pools and ponds, and climbing trees in residents’ backyards. They swim well in both salt and freshwater, and can stay submerged for up to four hours. Iguanas dig massive, interconnected tunnels with multiple entrances. Such tunneling can undermine roadways, sidewalks, trees, patios, waterfront shores, and home structures.
We booked our hunt with Florida Adventure Outfitters. I really had no idea what to expect. I have been hunting, seen hunting, processed what has been hunted and cooked and eaten what has been hunted, but that never included reptiles. I do have a hell of a story about dragging dead warthogs in active leopard country at dusk in Africa. Awesome stuff.
When we showed up at Michael’s boat and climbed aboard, he gave us the spiel in his mean “You Are All Probably Idiots” voice. But, we understood. We understood that poor Michael and his awesome iguana-fetching lab, Scout, had dealt with enough citidiots, and they didn’t have time to waste. We were given a run down on air gun safety, boat rules and shooting-in-a-canal-invaded-by-icky-invasive-iguanas rules. There were 2 airguns. A big no-no was aiming and shooting when the creature was silhouetted against the sky on top of the canal bank. Because, trajectory. Another no-no was standing up in the boat. Well, duh.
He had obviously scouted the killing ground and had permission from the power company who owned the canal to hunt an area that had never been hunted before. We floated past a large landfill that would, in another other place, be confused with a “hill”. But, since Florida is flatly flat, it was the dump. As we approached a side canal, the iguanas were there! I saw them and some were huge! Oh boy! The excitement got the better of me and I did the unthinkable. I stood up. I was sharply rebuked, (!) by Michael. I mentally hit my forehead with my hand. Bigly. Ugh! I was not living up to my good-girl bad-ass Idaho reputation. What a rube! As I tried to make myself as small as I could possibly be in a 17 foot boat with 5 humans and a dog, my transgression was soon forgotten in the melee that was to come. Ten seconds of humiliation was followed by 4 hours of being a good iguana huntress who follows the rules.
We rounded a corner and on the left side of the canal were iguanas, darting to and fro. And…not only scuttling into holes, but freezing stock still in the grassy banks. Because they are like dinosaurs. In their haste to retreat from our excitement, the iguanas would actually run on their two back legs, standing up. I was gaping at this spectacle while they literally stood up and ran away, like the velociraptors on Jurassic Park. Michael informed us that the cover of said movie featured the eye of an Iguana because that is the closest to a dinosaur eye mankind can fathom. As Michael shouted instructions to the guys, us gals couldn’t help but join in the bossing and navigational directions. My yelling did not include words such as north or south. My excited hollering included things such as “There is one right below the plastic Publix bag! No, to the right of the crushed Dasani bottle that looks like it has Mountain Dew in it! Euewww, it’s full of pee! Right there!! How can you NOT see it???!!! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! What are you?!! Blind?!!!” Let’s just say it didn’t go over well with the great white hunter/birthday boy and he told me that my word salads were not helpful. So, I gave him the birthday present of trying my best to shut up and sit. Arf.
The boat was camo, and with guns in hand and ready to shoot, we probably looked like something out of Apocalypse Now…The Nursing Home Years. We passed a few people walking along the canals and one local got pretty excited when he saw us. He jumped up and down and yelled in Cajun that he had just seen a huge gator “right downthataway” and pointed in the direction we were going. I was glad I had my knife. I recalled in minute detail the moves that Mick Dundee used and was comfortable in my knowledge that I could save myself.
As the carnage began, my friend Ellen said to her Hubs “Ooooh! You got that one right in the nose! Did you hear that smack!? It didn’t even phase him!” We were informed that the skulls are super hard and, in order to kill one, you had to aim at their eyes. Their jaws and teeth were deadly to an untrained dog, but Scout knew his job and was an amazing worker. We would shoot an iguana and he would wait for his master to let him fetch it. He would track it, grab it behind its “shoulders” and bite a few times to make sure the iguanas lungs were punctured and return to the boat. It was an instinctual working of a well trained dog. It was a joy to watch.
The shooting of a fast-moving iguana from a moving boat on moving water is no easy feat. The guys were a great team, as one shot was never enough to kill. The team effort would always come into play and 2 hunting buddies with over 30 years of friendship between them did an awesome job. But, Ellen and I were no slouches in our own right. Our group managed to gain the respect of the jaded iguana hunter/guide, Michael and by the end of the trip, he was not the same guy who gave us that mean lecture at the start of the adventure.
The excitement ratcheted up as we came to a part of the canal that ran parallel to Florida’s Turnpike. The traffic was whizzing by as we puttered down the waterway. Then, we saw him. It was THE biggest iguana ever. His orange scales reflected off the light from the clouds. It was the King Ding Dong Lizard. If he could have stood up and ran, he probably would have been 4 feet tall. But, I am thinking the running away is for the little guys. The atmosphere was hushed as Michael turned the boat into the best position for a shot, but we were all still issuing sighting reports in lower voices. Hubs shot first, then his buddy Tim. Together they rolled the King and toppled the Iguana Turnpike Monarchy.
Scout, after commands by his master, jumped out of the boat and didn’t even have to sniff this guy out. He was orange and big and lying in the weeds. Scout was pretty excited. He grabbed the iguana by the back. It was very large and so NOT DEAD and it was fighting pretty hard. Michael got out of the boat and told a reluctant Scout to “Load UP!”. Michael grabbed the iguana, and we thought he was going to put the final bullet into his eye, but he didn’t.
He walked the iguana king into the boat, got out some red electrical tape and proceeded to bind the reptile’s hands and feet, as it were.
He then loaded up the still alive iguana and placed him in a metal box. He was saving it. And didn’t want it dead. Yet.
We made our way back the way we had come, under bridges and past the territory of a few homeless who had a sweet setup of shopping carts, blankets and even a pet duck, where the cement met the canal bank.
It was under a bridge that I had a shot. The unfortunate fellow was walking along the cement shelf in the shade over the water. I shot. Did I miss? I shot again. It scuttled across the side of the structure, leaving a trail of blood. I shot again and we all noticed now that it was hanging vertically, with 3 legs, onto the side of the concrete bridge. How? Suction cup feet? One more shot and plop! Right into the canal, followed by another larger plop of Scout following him. He had obviously been watching and was impatient with my inability to dislodge this creature from the bridge. When I finally did, he could not get into that water fast enough. This action by the dog got him a severe reprimand from his master and he had to haul tail back into the boat, empty mouthed. He was a naughty dog for jumping into the water. We all felt pretty bad after that and gave Scout an extra 20 bucks at the end of the trip.
Turns out, we killed 21 iguanas, not including the ones that disappeared into the water or the weeds. The iguana king was 66 inches long and was estimated to be between 45-50 years old. The size of his head was the clue that he would have been way longer if his tail had not been detached and regrown more than once.
Yes, people do eat iguanas. We did not. So, next time you stop for street tacos in south Florida, you may not be eating what you think.
Excellent story of such a fantastic adventure! How fun! A true Florida experience. 😂
Untie me, Michael! We laughed at that caption as much today as we did then. That was an epic day, unforgettable!