The Ugly Side of Mango Season

One recent morning I had just finished working out and was about to take a shower when Finn started running around the house about to lose his ever loving mind. He was grunting and huffing and puffing and making weird guttural noises. And I had a pretty good hunch why. So I lifted him up to the window and sure enough I was right.

These guys were all over the place. Iguanas. Gross snarly prehistoric-looking iguanas. Finn is a pretty amicable dog. He befriends cats, moths, small children. You name it. But when it comes to iguanas he morphs into Cujo the killer dog. Only two stuck around for my picture but there were about twelve when I first lifted Finn to the window. Fighting over busted mangos that had fallen off the tree and rolled into the driveway.

We're getting 4-6 ripe mangos a day off our tree. But another 2-4 drop off and roll down for these guys to feast on. Meaning every time I walk out to the car to go anywhere I have to deal with this.

The big ones won't even move out of your way. They stand their ground to prove that they aren't scared of you and your big vehicle. Which is a bad idea. Because vehicles are big so our neighbor is constantly running them over. And when they die all their innards explode out of their mouths. And their innards are bright orange. No lie. There's a pitchfork out there so that Seth can go scoop up the dead iguanas and toss them over the edge into the bush. Disgusting, yes. But with five jars of mango chutney and eleven jars of mango rum sauce on the counter, we aren't complaining either.