This yellow example was found hanging from a low limb only a few meters from camp.
Amazon tree boas! The finding of one of these variably colored snakes was always exciting. More often than not, the color of Corallus hortulanus would be of some shade of brown dorsally and orange to off-white ventrally. But there was always the chance of happening across one clad in scales of yellow or red. Since these primarily nocturnal snakes were almost always found by their eyeshine while rather well obscured high in wateredge trees, there usually was abn animated group discussion about how we could determine the size and color. If we were lucky we would have Segundo with us and he would clamber up the tree, carefully catch the snake (or the boa would less carefully latch on to him) and both would return earthward. At other times the snake was more accessible and we all got good looks, photos aplenty, and the snake was never bothered. But there were those, and they were many, that to us were never more than an eyeshine in the rainforest.

The Amazon. Fond memories were always being made!

The crocodile tegu is a largely aquatic, 2 foot long, Amazonian species.
Kayaking the shallows of the Rio Orosa, a beautiful river in Amazonian Peru, whether by day or night, was always a pleasurable and sometimes an exciting pastime. Finding birds and an occasional caiman, with the possibility of finding such taxa as caiman lizards, anacondas, pink river dolphins, great potoos, and dozens of other taxa, or of doing a little quiet fishing, made the time spent on the water well worthwhile. And there was always the possibility of finding something just a bit different, something not really expected. That was what had happened one morning about 25 years ago. A couple of us, each in a kayak, set out shortly after sunup to check fallen trees and thickets of shrubs along the river. And we got a real surprise!

Quietly basking on one of the snags was a 2 foot long lizard that, except for the throat and the tail, appeared to be an overall bluish gray. The throat was yellow, the tail was orange dorsally and blue gray on the lower sides. This taxon was new to me in the wild, and although I was familiar with the lizard from former years it took some thought to put a name to it—Crocodile Tegu, Crocodilurus amazonicus.

Although we have found many since, the finding of that first example was surprising. I had been told by another researcher that although the taxon was well known in neighboring Brazil, they (with no reasons given) had been extirpated from Peru. That made the finding of example number one all the more memorable.

As an adult, the mock viper attains a length of only 15 inches.
Hirnan, our boat captain, was not a great fan of snakes. Frogs, salamanders, turtles, crocodilians, lizards were all OK, but when snakes were encountered, they and Capitan Hirnan quickly parted company.

We had been were on a discus (tropical fish) finding foray along waterways on the Peruvian side of the Rio Putumayo, a river that serves as a border between Peru and Colombia. The search took us up and back along many creeks, and I usually found time for at least a cursory search for herps.

At most stops we found anoles, geckos, and at least a few fer-de-lance. The presence of the latter kept us all on our toes, but none of us moreso than Hirnan. But there was this one memorable stop—the one where there seemed to be a fer-de-lance near every tree and a few just coiled quietly in the rather tall grass. So Hirnan did what every human who is adverse to snakes would do. He reached down and picked up a fair-sized limb, about 8 feet long, to brush the pit vipers out of the way. Happily Hirnan lifted the improvised snake stick, brought it upwards to a vertical position, let out a scream, and headed, on the run, back to the boat? Apparently a small snake, a mock viper, Thamnodynastes pallidus, had n crawling over the limb, held to and been lifted to a position over Hirnan,s head, lost its grip and fallen on his shoulder.

What’s that saying about the best laid plans of mice and men?

This is a large adult grotto salamander from deep in a Missouri cave.We were looking for a cave. Road 1 took us about 3 miles in the right direction and then we encountered a fence. The GPS hadn’t foreseen that. Back we went to the main highway. Road #2, same scenario. We were about ready to give up but before quitting decided to try road #3. 2 miles no fence yet. 4 miles, still no fence. Could it be possible? Could this bumpy dirt road be the right one?

Jake and I had spent a few days photographing salamanders in Arkansas, and had only 2 more caudatan taxa targeted. One was the widespread cave dweller, Eurycea spelaea, the grotto salamander. This is a unique beast. The adults, terrestrial and 4 to 5 inches long, are cave dwellers with atrophied eyes while the larvae, which may live either in or out of the home cave, have well developed eyes.

Arkansas is both a land of caves and of salamanders, but not too many of the former remain open to the public, and of these not all can boast populations of the latter, the grotto salamander. We had been assured that the cave for which we searched fulfilled both hopes admirably. So we floundered onward.
We passed through a small village, then a few isolated homesteads. Finally encouragement--a pretty stream appeared, followed by a widened spot where we parked. Up the mountain we went, around an abutment, and…ah ha! A cave! We were there. And better yet, we found that once we had entered and passed beyond the twilight zone with its resident dark-sided salamanders, in the zone of perpetual darkness, the realm of the grotto salamander, Eurycea spelaea awaited. Success. Thanks again, Brad B.

A young western coachwhip from the "pink" Big Bend population.
There’s one! Stop! This was Jake informing me that while I had been watching a pyrrhuloxia (a cardinal-like bird) on the powerline I had motored past a good sized pink phase western coachwhip, Masticophis flagellum testaceus, that had been concealed by long roadside grass. The bird was one of my photographic goals, the snake was one of Jakes and those snakes sure are pretty. There were no vehicles behind us so I braked quickly, Jake hoped out, I followed more slowly and after an extended search we both conceded that the coachwhip had won this round.

But then I had to remind Jake that this snake subspecies had won the last round also. In that case the coachwhip had scooted across the road and coiled tightly beneath one of the spine studded “monkey-get-back bushes” that so prolifically line these Chihuahuan desert highways. I stopped, Jake hopped out, crept up to the shrub, and gave me a thumbs up, indicating that the snake was still there. Jake studied the situation, decided how he could best grab the snake while avoiding the plant’s armament, then made a grab for the coiled snake—and missed. The snake was gone. To where it had gone we still don’t know. Kangaroo rat burrow? Invisibility cloak? The whole episode was figment of our imaginations. Doesn’t matter. The snake won. Maybe next time, Jake.

As first seen from the car, a Sonoran sidewinder.
OK, Frank. This is my last night here (Tucson). Let’s find a sidewinder. It had been well over a decade since I had last sought a sidewinder of any subspecies, and probably 20 years since I had last seen the Sonoran form, Crotalus cerastes cercobombus.

Although a lingering spring cold front has already dropped evening temperatures into the low 70s making success doubtful, Frank agreed to the task, and by the time darkness had enveloped us we were well away from Tucson on some seldom travelled, sandy, desert roads.

All seen so far had been a single Tucson banded gecko, Coleonyx variegatus bogerti. Frank looked at me and shrugged. “It’s the weather” he said. “In good weather” (meaning warmer temps and lower barometric pressure) “we usually see much more.”

Almost time to turn around. Well, at least we had tried. Frank decided to go another mile or so…

And there it was! In an “S” in the middle of the road lay a small Sonoran sidewinder. Frank’s perseverance had brought my short stay in Tucson to fitting close. Photos were taken and we happily headed towards the bright lights of Tucson.

Fat and healthy, a Pinto Chuckwalla at Arizona Sonora Desert Museum.
This, Sauromalus varius, the largest species of the genus, is restricted in distribution to the small island of San Esteban in the northeastern Gulf of California. This heavy bodied lizard can attain an overall length in excess of 2 feet and has reportedly attained an adult size of 3 feet. Like other chuckwalla species, this is a lizard of rocky habitats and when threatened is quick to seek safety beneath boulders or in rock-crevices.

The lizards depicted herein are in the captive population that has been at the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, AZ since 1977. This facility has succeeded in reproducing the species on several occasions.

Hued in pale gray overlain with patches of sandy tan, like other “chucks” this iguanian taxon is predominantly vegetarian, feeding on the flowers and leaves of creosote bush, cacti, and other arid land flora.
It is a federally endangered species.

"Waterwing" vocal sacs distended, a northern crawfish frog calls on a cold night.
John called from KY and simply said the Crawfish Frogs are calling. He added,that he would meet me at such and such a place and to get my tail in gear and get up there. Well, I've driven a whole lot further than FL to KY to see a frog, so an hour later the Isuzu Trooper was heading northwestward. By the next afternoon the rendezvous was accomplished and when darkness fell John (plus 2 others) and I were standing knee deep in a pond that was still rimmed with ice while the pounding rain and brisk breezes did all possible to create an unavoidable hypothermic interlude to the adventure. But the frogs were calling (and despite the chill factor were cooperative), we succeeded, and I was able to add the Northern Crawfish Frog, Rana areolata circulosa to my life list. Thanks, John.