Leaping Lizard Tail

I was sweeping my front patio this morning, pulling out the potted plants one by one to sweep up the leaves and dirt behind them. As I tugged on one of the planters, a large rectangular plastic one overflowing with a hearty succulent, I heard this bizarre clicking noise. It reminded me of the sound of a bird's wings or a large moth's wings beating frantically against a window. I peered behind the planter, and jumped back--it looked like a small, writhing snake flailing in the leaf litter. I looked again, confused by the odd shape of what should have been a head--it was flat rather than curved into a snake jaw.

Oh, lord. I was looking at a lizard's tail. The alligator lizards can drop their tails--or at least the tails will snap off--when the lizard is threatened by a predator. I'd always thought it a rather ridiculous form of protection--how many predators would grab the tail of a lizard and not notice the body running off? Now I understood how this tactic might work--the tail kept thrashing and twitching and twisting for minutes! Any predator, even one as slow and regretful as me, would find the movements distracting and almost hypnotic.

I felt so guilty, imagining a formerly placid, handsome lizard now forced to run around with only a stub for a tail. Do lizards have image issues? Will he or she be humiliated when seeking a mate? Do lizards understand that length isn't everything?

Fifteen minutes later, the tail finally stopped twitching. Quite amazing! How could the nerves still have energy to keep moving so long after separation from the body? I swept up the evidence and put it in the compost bin.