There are times I look out my family room window and think I'm watching the Discovery Channel.

Over the years, we've had a parade of critters, both wild and domestic, pass through our backyard. A magnificent red-tailed hawk once paid us a visit, along with a procession of raccoons and opossums. Neighborhood cats boldly laid claim to the yard after the passing of our Dalmatian, and squirrels and a variety of birds congregate around the bird feeder. But it was one of the tiniest creatures that caused my wife and daughter to flee in terror.

The recent warm weather fulfilled all the promise of spring: the flowers and fruit trees were blossoming, birds were singing and the lizards appeared.

We often see lizards scurrying around the yard, sunning themselves on the warm pavement or climbing the walls and fences, but on this particular warm Saturday afternoon, one lizard decided it was time to come inside.

I don't know what kind of lizard lives in our backyard. They are brown, or maybe gray, and they're tiny. Some are only about an inch long. Others, maybe three or four. The invader was a giant, comparatively speaking, five or six inches long and as slender as a drinking straw. My daughter apparently believed that made it a potential man-eater.

I discovered it between the sliding glass door and the screen door on the patio. I tried to shoo it out onto the patio, but instead, it took refuge under the sliding glass door. As it bolted for cover, my daughter, who had been watching from a safe distance behind me, screamed and leapt onto the piano bench like she was being pursued by something out of Jurassic Park.

The lizard was no longer visible, but my daughter wasn't coming back down to earth anytime soon, so my wife decided to take action. Getting down on her hands and knees and peering beneath the sliding glass door, she saw the lizard looking back at her.

For some reason known only to her, she slowly extended her index finger toward the lizard. At this point, the lizard did what any reasonable lizard might — it bit the end of the encroaching finger.

This sent my wife screaming into the living room while my daughter re-established her perch on the piano bench.

Now, you might ask, what was I doing while all of this was going on? Well, mostly, laughing. But I also had a plan. My plan was to leave the door open and let the lizard leave whenever it felt like it was ready. My wife didn't like this plan.

"If we leave the door open, all the bugs will get in," she said.

"Don't worry," I replied. "The lizard will eat them."

Sometimes my wife just can't see how a plan comes together.

In the end, we agreed to leave the door open. My wife and daughter set up shifts to monitor the lizard and I went off to watch the Dodgers' game. Soon, we were all distracted by something else and, the next time we remembered to look, the lizard had escaped to the patio.

Or had it?

For the sake of my domestic tranquility, I'm going to say that it had, but I haven't noticed any flies in the house lately. Coincidence? Who knows? But that's my story and I'm sticking with it.

— Contact Star columnist Bill Nash at bnash805@aol.com.