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.

Coiled and posed, a western massasauga on the defensive.
Although the various massasaugas, be they eastern, western, or desert, that I have encountered have moved away at reasonable speed, none, until my recent meeting with western massasaugas, Sistrurus catenatus tergeminus, in Kansas, had I thought of as “speedy.” But those Kansas examples have definitely altered my (and Jake’s) impression of this taxon. The reactions of these snakes, even when approached slowly and carefully, was a headlong dart from the coiled basking position in the grassy center of the road to the safety of the edging rocks. Seemingly with the alacrity usually associated with a basking racer, the crotalines were, if not out of mind, at least out of sight. But we finally managed to find one that, more relaxed than the others, allowed us the hoped for photo ops.

This prairie rattler was one of 3 found on our final day
Central Kansas. Our targets were twofold—a western hognose, Heterodon n. nasicus, and a prairie rattler, Crotalus v. viridis.The afternoon sun shone from a cloudless sky with a palpable force. Despite being basically white in color the roadway we were on was uncomfortably hot. If herps were to be seen at all it would be fleetingly and probably at roadedge. A few minutes before sunset Jake spied the first, a juvenile speckled king snake, Lampropeltis getula holbrooki, that had just emerged from the roadside grasses. This sighting was followed by several western slender glass lizards, Ophisaurus a. attenuata.

One hour passed, then 2. No hoggies, and except for one DOR, no rattlers. And except at the end when we found a very defensive bullsnake, Pituophis catenifer sayi, the next evening was even slower—a couple of pheasants, a lot of slender glass lizards, and incessant lightning accompanying distant storms.

But the third night was the charm. The baking hot day hadn’t seemed much different to me, but the snakes—at least the prairie rattlers, Crotalus v. viridis, found it more favorable. We found the first, a 28 incher, crossing a gravel roadway about a half an hour before sunset. We each took a dozen or more photos and put the snake off of the road. Then came a dozen glass lizards. And then another prairie rattler, this one slightly longer and of a darker color than the first. More pix. It was now nearly dark and for the next hour we saw only crossing glass lizards. Then another rattler. This one, larger still and very dark in color, was photographed in the car’s headlights with the assist of the camera’s flashes, and left as found.

When we left for the southland the next day, we left happy.

Female Indian star tortoise nesting
Indian star tortoises, Geochelone elegans. The adults, as hatchlings themselves bred at the Knoxville Zoo, were forwarded to Jim Harding by Bern Tryon about 20 years ago. Jim kept them for about 14 years and then deciding the (by then) adults needed some southern sunshine, he brought them to me. These tortoises have proven much more resilient to ambient atmospheric conditions than we initially thought them capable of. They are most active crepuscularly, feeding most ravenously at dusk or even after dark. The females usually begin nesting in the late afternoon, often not completing the task until well after dark. They are usually very active during summer rains, often sitting in the newly formed puddles (that may be 4 or 5 inches deep) from the beginning of the storms until the puddles have fully soaked in. In other words, in their actions and hardiness, these tortoises have been a surprise to me and to Jim. And if Bern were still with us I feel he, too, would have had to modify his beliefs on the captive care required by these beautiful star tortoises.

Fast forward:One female has nested successfully for the last 3 years. In 2017 she nested on 3 occasions at 30 day intervals. Total eggs numbered 14. In Jan of 2015 the first clutch (5 eggs) have hatched and, again at 30 day intervals, we hope that the remaining eggs will also hatch. I’ll keep you updated.