Don't want that iguana? She'll take it
Some of them roaming Pinellas are former pets whose owners released them. A St. Petersburg woman is here to help.
By TAMARA EL-KHOURY
Published July 30, 2005
For months a fugitive iguana has eluded Charles Thornton and his crew. The captain of security at East Lake Woodlands said he has chased the escaped pet over golf courses and through ponds.
Yep, the little sucker can swim.
On Tuesday, a front-page St. Petersburg Times story on South Florida's iguana infestation reported that a University of Florida professor had seen the giant lizards as far north as Pinellas Park.
Your calls and e-mails told us the weirdness goes farther north than that.
Two years ago, a pair found their way to Barbara Runkle's back yard in Oldsmar. They stayed the summer, scattering up her trees or plunging into her pond when she approached.
"I figured someone had pets who had eggs and they put the eggs out," said Runkle, 36.
She claims to actually miss her vegetarian visitors. Now, at least, she knows what ate the succulent bright plants she tried to grow. The Times article told her iguanas like to chomp on shrubs.
She had blamed the rabbits.
Lesley Muller's brush with a North Pinellas iguana was brief. Staring out her kitchen window, the Palm Harbor resident saw a flash of bright green dash from across the street, over her driveway, through her yard and into her neighbor's lush landscape.
Muller, 58, thumbed through her book on Florida wildlife. It said iguanas are commonly found in Miami.
There was no mention of Palm Harbor.
That was earlier this year. She hasn't seen it since.
"But I haven't found one dead either," she said.
Seven iguanas have found refuge in Kathleen Lamb's St. Petersburg home. So have seven birds and six Chihuahuas. Her neighbor found one of the lizards as he trimmed his azaleas and knew to bring it to her. She said - and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals confirmed - most iguanas that turn up in Pinellas are no-longer-wanted pets that people give away or release into the wild.
"They get tired of it and they move on," said Lamb, 45. "What are they going to do? The pet shops don't buy them back." But she'll take them. So Mr. Thornton, if you ever catch that elusive, pond-diving, golf course-trekking iguana, please call Lamb at (727) 323-8779.
And that goes for the rest of you, too.