This, the western yellow-bellied racer, is the most westerly of the racer clan.
Racers as a group of 11 subspecies, range across the USA from Maine and Florida to California and Oregon. Think about that. Then add to that thought that one subspecies, the eastern yellow-bellied racer ranges from just north of the USA/Canadian border to southern Texas (not quite to the MX border) and both the facts and the snake species itself, Coluber constrictor by name become even more impressive.

Except for 2 subspecies in the southern Midwest the racers are of a rather uniform but variable color both dorsally and ventrally. The dorsal color may be black, olive-tan, blue, or gray, The ventral coloration of many subspecies is the same or slightly lighter than the dorsal color. The common names, such as black racer, blue racer, yellow-bellied racer, tan racer, black-masked racer, even a buttermilk racer the latter being a blue to tan snake with groups of lighter scales that resemble the curds in buttermilk. To these may be added a regional feature such as northern, southern, eastern, western, or a more specific area such as the Everglades. In actuality the names are quite descriptive.

Besides the racers there are several other coast to coast snake species. Among these are the eastern garter snake, Thamnophis sirtalis. This variable species starts at the east coast with the eastern, Maritime, and blue-striped garters and terminates on the shores of the Pacific with the more gaudy San Francisco, California red-sided, and Valley subspecies.

Ditto with the ring-necked snakes, Diadophis subspecies, beginning on the eastern seaboard with the northern and southern ringnecks and transitioning on the West Coast into a host of beautiful, subspecies with remarkably brightly colored bellies.

And although there are others, I’ll cease and desist with mention of the hobbyist favorite, the kingsnakes of the genus Lampropeltis. Ignoring the current trend to make species out of subspecies or to not recognize appearance differences at all, we begin on the California coast with the pretty and variable California kingsnake, transitioning eastward first to the desert king, then after a broad area of intergradation to the speckled, black, eastern and Florida races.

The United States, a wonderland of herpetological diversity, no matter what your classification system may be.

Sympholis lippiens, another of Mother Nature’s wonderfully secretive creations. The Mexican short-tailed snake is a larger- than- normal insectivore.
Unlike earlier years when herping south of our border was simply a choice of whether or not to just get up and go, today’s decisions are a more complex decision for me. In fact, the last time I traveled into Mexico was about 15 years ago and then I didn’t travel too far to the south. I had initially considered going to Sinaloa, got as far as southern Sonora, and decided that was far enough. And, as it turned out, it actually was far enough for me to interact with the small boas of Yecora, Mexican treefrogs, beaded lizards and other species that I hadn’t seen for years.

And one of these “other” species, one that I found really interesting, was the Mexican short-tailed snake (Sympholis lippiens).

The first of this species on that trip was seen in the headlight glow of oncoming traffic. The little snake was slowly moving across the pavement. And somehow, after the half dozen cars (that’s 24 collective tires) had passed, the snake remained uninjured. I was delighted for this was an enigmatic species that really intrigued me.

That it is patterned for its entire 16- (or so) inch length in rings of jet black and creamy yellow is obvious. That it is of reasonably heavy girth, has a proportionately short tail and feels rather yielding and flaccid when lifted is almost as obvious. It was known (or at least thought) to be a secretive burrower that comes topside primarily when forced to do so by monsoon rains flooding its burrows. But beyond these things everything about Sympholis was conjectural. There was virtually nothing known about its food or feeding habits or its reproductive biology.

Today, thanks to research and compilation by Peter Holm, an Ecologist with Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument we do know a bit more about this little snake.

It is apparently commensal with a Mexican leaf- cutting ant. Leaf-cutters, their larvae, and grubs of a species known to dwell in the detritus of ant-mounds are now known to be eaten by Sympholis. Additionally, it was surmised that the thick skin, the conformation, cloacal discharge and skin secretions of this anthill specialist protected it from ant bites.

The black-chinned red salamander, Pseudotriton ruber schencki, is a brilliant subspecies from the Smoky Mountain area.
Adventures, good adventures, interesting adventures, just seemed to happen to Kenny and me. On this trip Kenny had decided that he would like to see dwarI waterdogs and since I am always interested in new spots for old herp species, I went along. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but somehow our target got redirected when our host, Matt, asked whether, as well as the little Necturus, we’d like to see some pretty – real pretty – red salamanders, Pseudotriton r. ruber. Our collective answer was, of course, not only yes, but “heck yes” and temporarily at least waterdogs were forgotten.

When we stopped it was at a huge swamp, an expanse that was criss-crossed by newly fallen as well as decomposing pine carcasses and with as much soupy mud as I would ever wish to slog through. In other words it was a salamander haven and heaven.

Kenny and Matt (and Matt’s “wonder-dog) were soon plowing agiley through the mud and jumping over or turning fallen timber. As usual I was far behind and tripping over most obstacles. Nothing new there until I floundered over a log, knocking off a bit of bark, and found 2 eastern worm snakes, Carphophis a. amoenus. Just about then Kenny and Matt both hollered “got one.” Being reasonably sure that I would get a chance to photo at least one I started back to the car.

Now time for the waterdog. At least I’d get a chance to wash some of the mud off. And we actually got both demudded and a waterdog, N. punctatus.

Another successful day.

Drymobius margaritifer, the speckled racer
Thornscrub surrounded us. Every time we started forward it seemed that we had first to move backward to disentangle our clothing (and since we were both wearing shorts, our skin) before we could hope to move forward. I had done this on several previous occasions so I knew that I was going to get nowhere fast. In fact, there were times when 2 steps backward were needed before moving a few inches ahead. It didn’t take Jake long to understand why I referred to the vegetation in this region (collectively, I might add) as “monkey-get-back-bushes,” If it grew here it had thorns. Sometimes the thorns were straight and pointed as a needle and placed strategically to nail you while you were moving ahead. Sometimes they were recurved like a cat’s claw and waiting in patient silence for you to try to back up a bit while you were trying to avoid their needle-like brethren. One thing you could be sure of, they were there. Jake knew this now.

So what drew us to this particular locale in the Lower Rio Grande Valley?

Why, a snake of course. But not just any snake. It was one that was at the extreme norther edge of its mostly Latin American range here on the north side of the Rio Grand (Rio Bravo, if you prefer). It was the beautiful speckled racer, Drymobius m. margaritifer, a species we were not apt to see anywhere else. In fact, we had just seen one, hence our stickery predicament. We were hoping that about 15 feet ahead of us the snake had stopped and that we could get close enough to take photos. The vegetation was vying directly the opposite.

But I’ll shorten an already long story. We won. It was almost a draw but the snake wasn’t unduly perturbed by our thrashing about and we got pix.

So what is Drymobius? It, like many racer type snakes is black with big eyes and a less than amiable disposition. But there the similarities stop. The speckled racer is 4 feet of absolute beauty. In the center of each scale is a yellow spot. And at the rear of each scale is a wash of sky blue. This gives an overall appearance to the moving serpent of an overall wash of green. But if you concentrate on one curve of the moving snake, the outside of the curve will be a beautiful blue, and the inside of the curve is mostly yellow. It’s a beautiful snake of almost magical color changes. Take a trip down and see one for yourself. If you stay on the trails there will be no personal pain involved.