FORT MYERS, Fla. — As Florida ushered in 2026, an unexpected Arctic chill swept across the Sunshine State, turning New Year's Eve into a bizarre spectacle where green iguanas plummeted from trees like frozen ornaments. The cold snap, one of the most severe in years, plunged temperatures into the 30s and 40s, stunning the cold-blooded reptiles and sending them tumbling to the ground in cities from Fort Myers to Miami.
Meteorologist Matt Devitt captured the oddity early on December 31, 2025, when he posted a photo of a bright green iguana sprawled motionless on the grass in Fort Myers after falling from a tree. Temperatures there had dipped to 39 degrees, far below the comfort zone for the invasive lizards. “WE HAVE FALLING IGUANAS! 🦎🚨 This guy just fell out of a tree in Fort Myers this morning, where it was 39°. It’s not dead, just cold stunned. Only in Florida!” Devitt wrote on social media, tagging fellow weather experts and emphasizing that the animal was merely immobilized by the cold.
Hundreds of miles south in Miami, similar scenes played out overnight as the freeze gripped South Florida. Meteorologist Dylan Federico shared viewer-submitted video showing a limp iguana clinging to a railing, its body unresponsive to the dropping mercury. “We have frozen iguanas in Miami!” Federico posted, crediting a WSVN viewer named Delo for the footage. The clip quickly went viral, drawing attention from national weather personalities and highlighting the peculiar impact of winter weather on Florida's subtropical ecosystem.
Green iguanas, an invasive species that has proliferated in Florida since their introduction through the pet trade decades ago, are ectothermic creatures, meaning they depend on external sources of heat to regulate their body temperature. When air temperatures fall into the 40s or below, their metabolism slows dramatically, causing muscles to stiffen and grip to weaken. This often results in the lizards losing their hold on branches, sometimes plummeting from heights equivalent to several stories. Wildlife officials have documented these events during past cold snaps, but the widespread nature of this one made it particularly noteworthy.
The cold front responsible arrived in the final days of 2025, following weeks of unusually warm weather that had lulled residents into a false sense of security. Forecasts from the National Weather Service predicted lows in the 20s and 30s across North and Central Florida, with South Florida seeing dips into the 40s—enough to trigger frost advisories, freeze warnings, and cold-weather alerts statewide. In Southwest Florida, including Fort Myers, officials described it as the coldest New Year's Eve in about 25 years. Central Florida recorded its chilliest end-of-year temperatures in more than two decades, according to local meteorological reports.
Beyond the falling iguanas, the snap disrupted daily life across the state. Cold-weather shelters opened from the Panhandle to the Treasure Coast, providing refuge for the homeless as overnight lows threatened hypothermia. Authorities urged residents to bring pets indoors, cover sensitive plants with frost cloth, and check on vulnerable neighbors, particularly the elderly. In urban areas like Miami and Fort Lauderdale, the sudden shift from balmy holiday conditions to wintry blasts caught many off guard, with some beaches emptying earlier than usual as winds picked up.
For the iguanas, the event reignited ongoing discussions about their status in Florida. Native to Central and South America, these large herbivores were first spotted in the wild in the 1960s, likely released or escaped from captivity. Today, populations number in the millions, concentrated in South Florida where they thrive in canals, parks, and suburban yards. The lizards are notorious for burrowing into seawalls and sidewalks, causing structural damage, and for devouring native vegetation, which disrupts local ecosystems and agriculture.
Because they are nonnative, green iguanas receive no legal protection in Florida beyond general anti-cruelty statutes. State wildlife officials, including those from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, have long advised the public against intervening with cold-stunned specimens. “Though they may appear lifeless, warming them indoors can cause them to revive suddenly—and defensively—using sharp claws, teeth and powerful tails,” experts warn in public service announcements. Handling the animals risks injury to humans, and relocating them is prohibited under state law to prevent further spread.
Instead, officials recommend leaving the iguanas in place, where they can naturally recover as sunlight and rising temperatures—expected to climb back into the 60s and 70s by New Year's Day—revive their systems. In many cases, the reptiles bounce back within hours, scrambling away once mobile. Past incidents, such as the 2010 cold snap that killed thousands of iguanas, serve as a reminder of the species' vulnerability, yet their resilience has allowed populations to rebound quickly.
The invasive nature of iguanas adds a layer of complexity to these events. Homeowners and businesses in affected areas often view the lizards as pests, with some resorting to removal methods during warmer months. During freezes, however, the sight of fallen iguanas evokes a mix of amusement and sympathy, as seen in the flood of social media posts and memes circulating online. “Only in Florida!” became a common refrain, underscoring the state's reputation for wildlife oddities.
Environmental groups have called for more proactive management of invasive species like iguanas, including trapping programs and public education campaigns. According to the University of Florida's Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, iguanas contribute to an annual economic burden estimated in the millions through property damage and control efforts. Yet, with climate patterns bringing more frequent extreme weather, experts predict such cold snaps could become less predictable, potentially stressing both native and introduced species.
As the sun rose on January 1, 2026, reports indicated that many of the stunned iguanas were beginning to stir in warmer pockets of South Florida. Devitt followed up on his post, noting that the Fort Myers specimen had likely recovered by midday. In Miami, Federico's video continued to garner views, serving as a lighthearted counterpoint to the holiday's more traditional celebrations. Fireworks lit up skies from Orlando to Key West despite the chill, but the falling iguanas stole much of the spotlight in viral feeds.
Looking ahead, meteorologists forecast a quick warmup, with highs reaching the mid-70s by midweek, allowing Florida to shake off the freeze. But the event serves as a stark reminder of the state's vulnerability to weather whiplash, exacerbated by broader climate trends. For residents, it was a New Year's wake-up call: even in the subtropics, winter can deliver surprises, complete with plummeting reptiles.
Wildlife biologists emphasize that while the iguanas' plight makes for entertaining headlines, it underscores the importance of coexistence with invasives. “Leave them alone is the safest course for both people and animals,” said a spokesperson for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission in a statement released amid the snap. As temperatures normalize, the iguanas will return to their treetops, burrows, and buffets of foliage, ready to resume their controversial role in Florida's ever-evolving landscape.