The First Kill: Building Boundaries with Love and Pinwheels
A story about instinct, connection, and building a lizard habitat barrier with love and whimsy.
This morning, as the golden light filtered gently through the trees, I crafted a whimsical yet heartfelt barrier. At first glance, it may seem playful — green mesh wrapped around old stumps, topped with a whirl of cheerful pinwheels. But beneath the colorful surface lives a much deeper story — one of instinct, connection, and the sacred act of protection. This lizard habitat barrier, though playful in appearance, was built with reverence, purpose and my sense of fun.
These tree stumps have long been a favorite place of the lizards who dwell here — sunning, hiding, watching from the shadows. Years ago, when my beloved standard poodle Cheyana still walked beside me, I gently peeled back a piece of bark from one of these ancient stumps. Cheyana was wagging her tail with great interest, and what we discovered beneath the bark stopped me in my tracks.
There, nestled in the quiet dark, was a lizard family asleep. Not just two adults, but a tiny baby lizard tucked beside them. The father lizard had one arm draped protectively over his mate — an unmistakable gesture of tenderness. I was stunned by their vulnerability, their peace. I took a photo, then carefully cradled that living tableau and relocated the bark to a hidden green sanctuary where no one walks. I never looked at lizards the same way again.
Cheyana, though curious, never harmed a single one. She knew they lived there. She would wag her tail in joyous anticipation when the prey drive was activated and she was ‘on the hunt’. As they skittered into view, she’d try to catch it, but luckily she never did as far as I know.
But now Cheyana runs in spirit, and Juliette — my spirited toy poodle — has taken her place on our walks, standing on that same stump, wagging her tiny tail with the same prey drive and play ‘on the hunt’. Just days ago, Juliette made her first kill. She proudly brought me the body of a lizard, the same kind who once slept under that bark in the arms of his mate. I didn’t scold her. This is a natural part of the canine instinct — a surge of prey drive, a flash of pride. Instead, I honored the instinct and her pride without scolding or praising, while holding space for the soul of the lizard she had caught.
It wasn’t bloody. There were no wounds. The lizard had died, likely of exhaustion or shock from the chase. I held the smooth, still body in my hand and sat quietly with Juliette. We had soft, spoken moments together, she licked the lizards head — I told her I understood her instinct, and I also explained gently that this lizard wanted to live. “He had a family, they are waiting for him to come back to them. She listened. She softened. “Let’s be kind to lizards and not hunt them, OK?” Her eyes locked with mine, a deep connection between us, and her eyes told me she understood.
That night, the sky responded. If you read The Circle of Wings, you know that just after the lizard’s passing, a powerful sequence unfolded. Ravens flew in wide circles above, cawing with strong urgency. A turkey vulture arrived. The spirit of the little white dog I had just done a reading for also felt near. It was a day of release, of witnessing, of soul.
And so — this morning — I built something in return. A simple lizard habitat barrier: green mesh draped around the much loved tree stumps, pinned with rocks and slate, and topped with bright, spinning pinwheels popping out of the top of the tall flower pot that act as guardians and celebration.
A simple structure, wrapped in green mesh to say: this space is not for chasing. The pinwheels, bright and spinning, act as guardians and celebration. They deter playful paws, but they also proclaim that beauty and boundaries can coexist.
I built it in the place where the lizards live — where Cheyana used to watch, tail wagging, heart racing with excitement as Juliette’s and Easton’s do now.
When they go outside now and head straight to the stump, they’re stopped by a lovely tall flower pot with colorful pinwheels, the heart of the lizard habitat barrier that make a tent out of the green mesh. It’s held down with rocks and slate. It says “OFF LIMITS” to the poodles, and as Juliette sniffs for a way in, I gently guide her away and say, “no lizards my love”.
