A lizard lives on our windowsill. He will not move.

I’m painting the house, and circled him with the roller, far at the edge of the wall at first, then gradually closer, until the circle was so small I had to tap him with my thumb.

He scurried a few inches away and hung, watching as I completed the wall, then returned to his perch.

He’s still there.

Our home is 8 miles from Mariposa, 35 miles from Yosemite National Park. Having moved rudely into their forest, the local fauna mostly avoid us, but some are quite enthusiastic to combine living quarters.

Mice are notorious freeloaders. We uneasily tolerated one until he shat in our silverware drawer, and now he resides in mousey heaven.

Another has taken residence in my truck. She started by building a humble nest in the glovebox using my registration and insurance cards, which I removed. A few days later she constructed a warm and intricate nest from bits of my wife’s scarf. I removed that too.

Today she completed a fuzzy castle, solid enough to repel any human intruder. I’m scared to learn what was used for this one.