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.

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.

Western Plains garter snakes are pretty and brightly colored.
When it seemed to us that the sun was so hot that it was baking those Kansas dikes, when all good rattlesnakes and Plains leopard frogs were concealed in the roadside grasses, when we had turned the car’s a/c to its lowest temperature, it was then that the Plains garter snakes, Thamnophis radix haydeni, emerged from shelter to bask on the gravel surface. They didn’t stay long, but bask for a few minutes they did before returning to the grasses, presumably to seek their leopard frog or toad repast. While in some areas the Plains garter snake may be difficult to differentiate from congenerics, on these dikes, with the red-sided garter snake being the only other thamnophine contender, there was no problem separating the two. The strong yellow vertebral stripe, placement of the lateral stripe (scale rows 3 and 4), and black spotting (lips and body) of the Plains garter were definitive. Most seen (20+) were juveniles but a half dozen adults were found.

The western painted turtle has carapacial reticulations and a red plastron that bears a complex dark figure.
So pretty are painted turtles, collectively, that were they rare they would command formidably high pet trade prices. However not only are all 4 of the subspecies common, but they breed easily in captivity as well.

In many areas of their extensive ranges the characteristics (carapacial scute sutures and plastral figure) that differentiate the eastern from the midland subspecies (Chrysemys picta picta and C. p. marginata, respectively) are muddled. But the western form, C. p. bellii, is usually very easily identified and the southern painted turtle, C. p. dorsalis, is so different that it is thought by some to be a full species, designated as C. dorsalis. Although strongly aquatic, painted turtles inhabit semipermanent and permanent ponds, lakes, marshlands, and slow moving riverine sites where they bask on fallen trees and other such haul-out areas. They may also be seen basking well up on shorelines, crossing roadways, and elsewhere as they seek to change their aquatic homes.

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.

Eastern fox Snake waiting for a warbler meal on a cool morning.
From a distance we could see that 9 feet above the ground in a sapling there was a brown ball. Why? What was it? We were on a noted wildlife sanctuary. We neared the “ball” and…Uh oh! Trouble! Not for us but for the warblers that seemed to be using this sapling-top corridor. For just one branch over on this cool morning, coiled tightly around the waving upright trunk, was a beautiful eastern fox snake, Pantherophis vulpinus,(formerly Elaphe vulpina gloydi). We photographed the coiled snake and moved onward, leaving the migrating warblers to fend for themselves. This snake proved to be the first of many, the others being seen along the many dikes. The range of this this pretty northern rat snake closely follows the shorelines of western and northern Lake Erie, eastern Lake Huron, and the region between these two Great Lakes.

The aberrant carapacial scalation of this wild hatchling common map turtle was probably caused by overly warm incubation temperatures.
Common map turtles, Graptemys geographica. First we saw one. A few moments later it was joined by 2 others, and 5 minutes later there were at least a dozen of these pretty turtles on the large snag we were watching from the car. Knowing how “skittery” this (and other map turtle species) can be, we sat quietly in the car. But there came a moment when we had to position the cameras and as we extended the telephoto lenses from the window of the car, as one the turtles scrambled, dove, and disappeared. Well, we’d try again later, next time from a greater distance.

And so we did. Two times more, in fact, before succeeding. But seeing the many turtles alive, well, and very alert was worth our efforts.

At 10. ½ inches, big-headed adult females of G. geographica, are about twice the size of the 5 inch males. In the western Ohio canal we were now checking, the females seemed to greatly outnumber the males. Here, as in other silted waters, the carapacial pattern tends to be muted by accumulations of water-borne debris. Population and parasite research of the map turtles on the preserve continues.

Blunt-headed tree snakes are blunt nosed and big eyed. This example is darker and with smaller blotches than usual.
When is a head high broken vining tendril not a head high broken vining tendril?

Why, when you grab a handful of tendrils to try and regain you balance and one of them suddenly turns a big-eyed head around on a slender neck to look at you, of course. And that is when you realize that you are doing exactly what you have warned your tour participants not to do—grab without ascertaining what it is that you are grabbing. This time, fortunately, no harm was done to either the grabber (me) or the grabee (snake—blunt headed tree snake, Imantodes cenchoa, to be exact). But the encounter did serve to rewarn me and there had been no one with me to witness the faux pas.

Blunt headed tree snakes are among the commonest and most distinctive of the arboreal serpents of the neotropics. The short snout, big eyes, and supple slenderness are echoed in this region (Depto Loreto, Peru) by only this snake’s congener, the much less often seen Amazonian I. lentiferus.

Nocturnal by preference, I. cenchoa bears prominent saddles, brown against a light reddish to chalk white ground color while the ground color of the tan saddled I. lentiferus is usually a lighter greenish tan. Both species prey on treefrogs and (usually) sleeping lizards. Adult size is 28 to 36 inches.

Juvenile common bird snakes are often darker than this individual.
It was dark—rainforest dark-- and rainy—rainforest rainy. I was trying to balance on a slippery fallen log that stretched over a newly freshened rivulet. Made it. Now came a rain-slicked slope about 30 feet long and descending about 15 feet. About half way down grew a spiny trunked palm. It was in a perfect position to make you want to grab hold of it as you slipped and slid by. I can tell you from experience, it would be better to fold your arms up and fall. At the end of the slope was a small but muddy permanent creek forded by a couple of easily replaceable small, wet, logs. And then on the right side of the trail (also in mud) was a small clump of non-spiny palms, the face high fronds of which were for some reason often chosen as resting places by common bird snakes, Pseustes (Phrynonax if you choose) poecilonotus, a pretty but feisty snake that looks and acts much like our rat snakes as well as by occasional juvenile fer-de-lance, Bothrops atrox (yes, these climb!). Just getting to the palm clump was often an adventure in adversity. Then, if a snake was there identifying it before grabbing might also be trying. Adult bird snakes, black above and yellow(ish) below were easily identified. But the mossy brownish juveniles looked far too much like a fer-de-lance for a snap identification. Love those rainy Amazon nights.

This nearly patternless mutation was once known as Rana pipiens burnsi, the plain leopard frog.
I stood ankle deep in waters still chilled by the Minnesota winter, listening to the yodels of distant loons, and hoping that in at least one of the flooded swales along this roadway I would finally find at least one of the 2 frogs—1 light colored, the other dark-- for which I was then searching. Both now simply mutant phases of the northern leopard frog, Rana pipiens, were once considered subspecies. The light one had been referred to as the plain leopard frog, R. p. burnsi, and the dark one as the Kandiyohi leopard frog, R. p. kandiyohi. I had first seen both when I was a kid as preserved specimens at a New England biological supply house. Now, a half century later, I hoped to find and photograph them.

On that first trip, made in May, the water was still chilly but air temperatures were in the high 70s to low 80s. Cattails and other emergents were flourishing, mosquitos were rampant and bloodthirsty, and leopard frogs, normal colors and patterns predominating, were abundant.

But I did succeed in finding and photographing a few of each of the hoped for mutants. Both were just as attractive as I remembered them being.

Now, a decade later (I don’t rush into anything!), I was back in Minnesota but a bit further north than my previous trip. It was mid-January, and temps were unseasonably warm, hovering at or just above freezing. The week before the temperature varied from zero to minus 30! In recognition of the season, we were birding, with great gray owls, not leopard frogs, being the target taxon.

This was a good thing, for except an open canal on Lake Superior and plowed roads the whole region was icy and snow covered. The mosquitos of summer were not missed; the leopard frogs were.

But having experienced both seasons, a temperature variance of more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit brought the hardiness of those leopard frogs into sharp focus. The adaptations of poikilotherms in boreal regions is remarkable indeed!

Eastern hellbenders may be strongly patterned or virtually devoid of markings.
I was in northeastern Georgia, about a 6 hour drive from home, staring in awe at the natural beauty of my surroundings. Delighted by the solitude and cooled by the knee-deep, clear rushing waters, the beauty of the forest greens, off-whites, and pinks of the stream-edge mountain laurels, and the crispness of the mountain air, all tied to the possibility of seeing North America’s largest salamander, the wonderful hellbender, brought memories of similar scenes far to the north.

There were a few partially submerged rocks along streamedge. Beneath some I found southern two-lined salamanders, Eurycea cirrigera. In deeper water, about 6 feet of my starting point—HELLBENDER! Not big, about 15 inches, but a hellbender.

The possibility had become a reality. I had checked beneath only a half dozen stream bottom rocks when beneath a flat rock just to the side of a riffle I found the young hellbender, Cryptobranchus a. alleganiensis. Photos were taken. I watched as the little giant slid unhurriedly beneath a riock, and I left, happy.

Now on to the rhododendron edged streams of the Carolina Blue Ridges, terrestrial salamander central!

A pretty Australian green frog in today's pet trade.
Throughout the years I have had several treefrogs that were “dumpy” either by stature or by name, but one in particular stands out in memory. This was a small Australian green (White’s) treefrog, Litoria caerulea (subsequently dubbed “dumpy treefrog” by the pet trade) that my friend and mentor Gordy Johnston and I imported from “Oz” in the mid-1950s.



Only about an inch long when received, the frog had a hearty appetite and quickly began to grow—and grow—and GROW! Within a year it was over 3 inches long and by the time it stopped growing (in length) it was just over 4 inches long. Although its growth lengthwise was noteworthy, its growth in girth was equally so. It became robust, then heavy, then on its diet of insects and pinky mice, it became rotund, and then actually corpulent. Yep, it was “dumpy.” And it remained so for most of the 20+ years of its life.


20 years? Indeed. This and many other amphibians have lengthy lifespans. And the good thing about the dumpy treefrog is even when they mistakenly grab a finger you don’t wind up with embedded teeth as is apt to happen in a horned frog bite. That, in itself, may be enough to sway your choice. Enjoy!

Searching for just the right spot.
Earlier in the day it rained just enough to dampen the ground. No matter the relatively insignificant rainfall, the moisture WAS significant to a female Indian star tortoise. She deemed it nesting time. She had begun coursing the entire enclosure at about the time the 3rd droplet had

fallen. And she continued until an hour later when she had chosen a site that she felt satisfactory. The site chosen was a grassy area between 2 small woody shrubs. She began the nesting process at 1:30 PM and continued preparation through a heavy rain that filled the in-process nest and a temperature drop (from 83F to 65F) until 4:00 PM. Egg deposition and refilling took another hour and a half.

As soon as the female had completed the nesting sequence, Patti redug the cavity with “egg-theft” in mind. In traditional fashion the neck of the nest was long and of small diameter while the egg-site was larger and easily contained the 5 eggs. Interestingly the female, showing more dedication than many do, had not only ignored the temporarily flooded conditions of the nest and the resulting “mudpie” but had encountered and worked around a large horizontal root as well. It took Patti about 15 minutes of careful manipulation to remove the eggs.

The eggs are now in the incubator and I’ll let you know the results in about 3 months. Wish us luck.

The hours of daylight are spent securely hidden, usually in shallow burrows.
It was actually the 3rd of January rather than New Year’s day of 2017 but as they say, that’s close enough for government work—or for mine in fact. Cloudy all morning, a gentle rain began at noon and continued for several hours. The ground and leaf cover were still wet as darkness fell and the moisture containing clouds dissipated. As I often do, I stepped out for a few moment to watch the low-flying bats and to listen for the whistling ducks that fly over every night at about this time.

A little light from the house windows illuminated the driveway where I stood. And as I stood I noticed some small anurans hopping about in the leaf litter. Usually this is where I find southern toads, but for a pleasant change, on the night of the 03 Jan it was eastern spadefoots, Scaphiopus holbrookii, that were active. Now if we can just get enough rain to flood the low-lying section of the yard perhaps they will breed this year. The eerie burping-moans of the lovelorn males is a sure sign of success. C’mon rain!

American alligator, very dark, broad snout
“Dick LOOK.”

I was in the shotgun seat and my vision to the water on the driver’s side was obscured.

Not realizing this Dan exclaimed again, but not as emphatically. “Look.” By then he had swung the car around and there on the boat launch ramp lay a 6 ½ foot long American crocodile, Crocodylus acutus.

This wasn’t really unexpected, for we were in the Everglades National Park, but unexpected or not, seeing a croc, by far the rarer of the 2 native American species, is always exciting.

Actually it was the second one of the day but rather than being out in the open as this one was, the first had been basking in the evening sunlight beneath a doc and was largely covered by floating water plants.

Besides our 2 native species, Florida is home to a 3rd crocodilian species. This the introduced spectacled caiman, Caiman crocodilus ssp., has been present in rather small numbers for more than 50 years. It is restricted to southern FL.

Individuals of at least 3 other crocodilian species have been found in FL. These have been the smooth-fronted caiman, the black caiman, a Nile crocodile, and a croc that, despite DNA samples having been assessed, defies identification.

Florida’s native and established crocodilians: On all, the markings are usually most prominent when the animal is wet.

American alligator: hatchlings and juveniles are black with yellow crossbands. Adults are black. Snout broad and rounded. To 19 feet but usually 12 feet or less.

Spectacled caiman: hatchlings and juveniles are olive green, olive yellow, or olive brown with darker bands, Adults are usually dark olive gray, Snout moderately broad. A bony ridge across snout just anterior to eyes. To 8 feet but usually 6 feet or less.

American crocodile: hatchlings and juveniles are greenish gray with broken darker crossbands that are often most prominent dorsally. Adults are (usually dark) grayish green. Snout long, narrow, and tapering. To 15 feet but usually less than 12 feet.

This pretty yellow rat snake is from southcentral Florida.
Although the range of the yellow rat snake, Pantherophis obsoletus quadrivittatus, extends far north of FL, let’s just take a quick look at some of the color variations of this pretty constrictor in the Sunshine State. Generally speaking, the snake is least colorful (olive yellow) in northcentral FL and most richly hued (bright yellow) in seFL. The keywords in the last sentence are “generally speaking” for variations within any geographic area are not only possible but should be expected.

Just as the ground color varies from north to south, so, too, does the color, thickness, and intensity, of the four dark stripes that provide the alternate name of “four-lined rat snake” for this subspecies. The stripes may be black, brown, buff, or orange. Thickest and darkest in ncFL, the lines may be well defined or barely visible in central FL and very poorly defined in the seFL. But again, let me emphasize, variation is the rule of thumb. One of the prettiest and most precisely striped yellow rat snakes I have seen in recent times has been from Polk County—right on the heart of the peninsula.

And now that I’m thinking about yellows, I guess I’ll head to Polk County in the AM!

This is an adult female T. venustus.
In a group often thought to consist of, or at least to be dominated by, green arboreals, the little Trimeresurus venustus is, indeed, a beautiful species with a difference. It is as often referred to by the common name of “brown spotted tree viper,” as by the more appropriate “beautiful tee viper. The former name does not do justice to the snake (that was for decades confused with the Kanburian tree viper, T. kanburiensis, and is actually a brown on brown snake) for the spots are more often a dull red or maroon than brown and more often than consisting of isolated spots, the spots coalesce into a pattern consisting of partial or complete side-to-side bars.

Once a rarity, T. venustus is now rather readily available in the pet trade. Native to Thailand, this rather slender viper occasionally attains a length of 32 inches but most adults seen are between 26 and 30 inches long.

Reportedly being primarily terrestrial in the wild, those I have had and other captives I have seen have been quite arboreal. Prey in the wild is said to consist primarily of anurans and lizards. Captive of all sizes usually readily accept suitably sized mice, including those that have been thawed and warmed.

Not all royal diadem snakes are strongly patterned.
For reasons still unbeknownst to me, the snakes of the genus Spalerosophis have never become overly popular with hobbyists. Big, hefty, easy to care for, attractive. and relatively inexpensive — even though they are a bit on the feisty side and an opisthoglyph, it seems to me that at least one species, S. diadema atriceps, should have become a hobby wide favorite.

Let’s address the opisthoglyphid aspect first. Clinical toxinology assessments on this snake by the University of Adelaide conclude: “Bites by this species are not expected to cause medically significant effects and the only risk, probably small, is local secondary infection. Patients presenting with bites by these snakes do not require medical attention, other than to check for infection and ensure tetanus immune status. ”The report continues “Non-venomous, so essentially all bites should be “dry.”

In other words, despite its enlarged rear teeth and feisty attitude, this snake is considered nonvenomous.

Over the years the royal diadem snake (also known as the black headed diadem snake, or simply, diadem rat snake) has been bred by a few dedicated hobbyists. Hopefully there will continue to be enough interest in this species to assure that this big orange on orange snake doesn’t disappear from the hobby.

Although a night lizard, this island taxon may be active diurnally.
We were traveling to Santa Barbara Island in California’s Channel Island group specifically to see the large, mostly diurnal, Island night lizard, Xantusia riversiana reticulata. A dichotomy? Diurnal night lizard? Indeed it seemed so and we hoped that this taxon was as diurnal as we had been told.

We were aboard a comfortable catamaran belonging to Island Packers in Ventura, CA. On the trip out we saw more common dolphins than we had known existed, a blue whale, and many pelagic birds. About 3 hours after we had left we arrived, to be greeted by elephant seals, California sea lions, and a US Fish and Wildlife Service agent, the latter who explained the dos and the don’ts associated with our visit. Then up a steep incline, hoping to avoid the depredations of the common ravens that are so adept at ferreting out stored foods and trinkets, and then ambling slowly up the footpath in search of the lizard that had drawn us...

The Island night lizard was the last of the 8 US species in the genus that we needed to photograph for our western turtles and lizards field guide. And once we were on its home real estate of the 8” long (that’s HUGE for a night lizard, by the way) lizard we quickly learned that the word “night” in its name really was a misnomer. We were to see and photograph the stocky, brown reticulated grayish, omnivorous, lizards, basking and foraging on and around many of the rocks along the trail. Some, their lidless eyes all watching for ravens, were even scrounging for crumbs beneath the picnic tables.

If you are ever out that way, check out the Channel Islands. It is an experience you will long remember.

Mountain skinks are one of the most beautiful members of the genus.
At an adult length of 6 to 7 inches, the beautiful mountain skink, Plestiodon callicephalus, is a denizen of habitats that vary from rocky desert to wooded slopes. Those that I have seen have been along the rocky banks of seasonal creeks, and with just a little effort on the part of the searcher, the rocky banks of one spring-fed water trough could always be depended on to harbor at least one of these skinks.

This taxon has a light “Y” shaped marking on the top of the head, a fawn dorsum, and a broad dark stripe on each side. The stripe narrows posteriorly and fades entirely a few scale rows posterior to the hind limbs.

Like many skinks, the mountain species has a brilliant blue tail when young. Unlike many other skink species that lose the blue with growth and age, the mountain skink retains the blue throughout its life but the intensity dulls some with age.

Primarily a Mexican species, in the USA the mountain skink occurs only in extreme scAZ and the western bootheel of NM. From there it ranges southward to the vicinity of Guadalajara, MX.

Albino red-eared sliders are now readily available in the pet trade.
The beautiful and ever popular red-eared slider, Trachemys scripta elegans, may be the most successful reptilian invader known to the world.

When I was a kid, red-eared slider hatchlings, then sold as “baby green turtles”, were available in just about every 5 and dime and pet store in the nation. Like kids in untold numbers of other households I was a keeper of these pretty chelonians. In those early days of herp-keeping-non-knowledge such inappropriate foods as dried ant pupae and caging such as plastic turtle bowls complete with an insertable plastic palm tree were the rage. And I never heard a single salesperson explain that when adult these turtles ranged from 6 to 12 inches in carapace length (try and keep those in the old style turtle bowls!), that they (like most turtles) were messy eaters, and that maintaining clean facilities was a necessary and almost daily job. The need for vitamins/calcium/full spectrum lighting was virtually unknown. It is small wonder that the majority of these turtles died. It was equally understandable why, if just by accident the red-ears happened to survive and grow, they either escaped or were eventually loosed in the nearest body of water.

Despite a regulation passed in 1975 a regulation that made it illegal to sell or barter chelonian eggs or turtles having a carapace length of less than 4” domestically except for scientific purposes turtles continued (often surreptitiously) to be sold (I was surprised to learn how many 5 and 10 year old scientists we had in this country). And thousands more continued to be exported.

Somewhere along the line feral populations of red-ears began to show up in odd places—New England, the Pacific Coastal region, the desert southwest, France, Asia, Brazil…

It seems that at least some, and from the looks of things, probably many, of the escaped and released red-ears have survived and are breeding.

Check out these statistics from the Global Invasive Species Database that document this turtle now being established in Asia, Australia, Austria, The Bahamas, Bahrain, Belgium, Bermuda, Brazil, British Virgin Islands, Cambodia, Canada, Cayman Islands, Chile, China, Costa Rica, Czech Republic, Denmark, Dominican Republic, Europe, Finland, France, French Polynesia, Germany, Gibraltar, Guadeloupe, Guam, Guyana, Hong Kong, Hungary, Indonesia, Israel, Italy, Japan, Korea, Democratic People's Republic of, Korea, Republic of, Latvia, Lithuania, Malaysia, Martinique, Micronesia, Federated States of, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Northern Mariana Islands, Panama, Philippines, Poland, Puerto Rico, Reunion, Saint Lucia, Singapore, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Thailand, Trinidad and Tobago, United Kingdom, and Viet Nam.

Statistics such as this help undermine our hobby!

Even when half grown the patterns and colors of most yellow-bellied sliders is bright and precise.
Worry not! Populations of the yellow-bellied slider are alive and well. It is only the ongoing name games between geneticists and Linnaean biologists that have dictated the changes, shrunken the realm, if you will, of this venerable, wide spread, and well known turtle.

At one time, in one subspecies or the other, Trachemys (once Pseudemys) scripta ranged from our northern tier states southward through Mexico and Central America, and across South America to Argentina. There were then 16 subspecies. Since those early days, varying by authority and their outlook on taxonomy (and their need for a paper), the number of species and subspecies has yo-yoed radically with some researchers elevating a subspecies to full species status while another sinks the creature in question into taxonomic synonymy. The good thing about all of these changes is that they are only on paper, except for those sacrificed during research, the turtles themselves not giving a hoot.

What once was: USA; Was T. scripta scripta, yellow-bellied slider, still valid; was T. s. elegans, red eared slider, still valid; was T. s. troosti, Cumberland slider, still valid; was T. s. gaigeae, now T. gaigeae, Big Bend slider.

Mexico and Central America: Was T. s. venusta, now T. venusta venusta, Meso-American slider; was T. s. cataspila, now T. venusta cataspila, Huastecan slider.

Was T.s nebulosa, now T. nebulosa nebulosa, Baja California slider; was T. s. hiltoni, now T. nebulosa hiltoni, Rio Fuerte slider; was T. s. ornata, now T. nebulosa ornata, Ornate slider.

Was T. s. grayi, now T. grayi, Guatemalan slider; was T. s. yaquia, now T. yaquia, Yaqui slider; was T. s. taylori, now T. taylori, Cuatro Cienegas slider; was T. s. emolli, now T. emolli, Nicaraguan slider.

South America: Was T. s. callirostris, now T. callirostris callirostris, Colombian slider; was T. s. chichiriviche, now T. callirostris chichiriviche, Venezulan slider.

Was T. s. dorbigni, now T. dorbigni dorbigni, Southern D’Orbigny’s slider; was not originally designated, now T. dorbigni braziliensis, Brazilian slider.
So, if we exclude the many introduced and established populations of the red-eared slider, we see that the taxonomic realm of the Trachemys scripta has been reduced from much of the new world to only the USA, a significant change indeed—or not. Just sayin’.

Big and voracious! Meet the 3-toed Amphiuma.
Two of the 3 described species of Amphiuma (amphiuma is the accepted common name as well as the genus name for this group of “mud eels”) reside in Florida waters. The 3rd species A. tridactylum, the three-toed amphiuma, comes within a few miles of Florida’s northeastern panhandle but has not yet been verified in the Sunshine State. It is found from eTX to seAL and northward in the Mississippi River Valley to extreme seMO.

This mud eel is a big amphibian. It occasionally attains a length of 40 inches (but is usually under 3 feet long) and attains a quite considerable girth. The dorsum is grayish brown and is sharply delineated friom the much lighter gray belly. Excluding the light lower jawbone, the throat is dark gray.

That this is a hardy creature was shown by one kept in a high school classroom for nearly 2 decades by a friend. Although he made an effort to feed it correctly, students would frequently give it parts of their sandwiches. It ate these ravenously. It was also an accomplished killer of mice, eagerly accepting the occasional white mouse offered. Bill told me that it had never bitten a student, but it was not for lack of trying.

All in all, this was (and is) quite a salamander!

It took the combined scrutiny of Jake and me to find this adult male bog frog in its grassy home.
In 1985 the Florida bog frog, Rana okaloosae, Florida’s smallest ranid frog was described by Paul Moler. Adult at about 2” svl, because of its unique call (a repetitive single note) this tiny greenish ranid was found in a small creek on Eglin AFB in 1982 by Moler. It is known from a few dozen small populations in Santa Rosa, Okaloosa, and Walton counties. Florida.

In overall appearance the bog frog is quite similar to the common and widespread bronze frog, Rana clamitans. However from the latter the bog frog differs in having very reduced webbing on the hind feet, lacking a central raised area on the tympani, and the dorsolateral folds, lighter in color than the dorsum, terminate just posterior to the sacral hump. Since all other ranid frogs are considerably bigger than the bog frog when adult, size can also be an identifying factor.

It had been about 10 years since I had last looked this little frog up, but with the help of Paul Moler, and the calling of the frogs, Jake and I were able to find a small population and update our photos. Thanks, Paul.