Despite being an aridlland species, Scincopus is not at all like a sandfish.
I’ll start this article with a question: Is Peter’s Banded Skink, Scincopus fasciatus, going to be a species that disappears quickly from the American herp hobby?

The reason for this question is that many species, once rarely seen and coveted, then so readily available that they were accessible to anyone who wanted one and had a few dollars to spend, have again become rare, if not in nature, at least in the trade. Some are now virtually unobtainable. I’ll just mention a few here to jog your memories: Colombian horned frogs, spiny hill turtles, Asian keeled box turtles, pipe snakes, almost any European herp, and Mexican dwarf pythons, are among the many. These were imported (sometimes in the hundreds, even thousands), were deemed to inexpensive to bother setting up in long-standing captive populations, and then they slipped quietly from sight. Could Scincopus soon be added to the “here then gone” list? It’s possible.

What is Scincopus? As mentioned above it is a skink from North Africa. It is pleasingly colored, being yellowish with 7 or 8 broad black bars that cross the back and stop about midway down the sides and a black tailtip. It is adult at about 8-10 inches in length, tail included. It is a heavy bodied burrower that has often been referred to as a giant sandfish—but a sandfish it is not. The toes of Scincopus are only weakly flanged, as opposed to the excessive flanges of the sandfish. Also, Scincopus is of far greater bulk than the more streamlined sandfish. Rather than swimming through the arid desert sands this skink seems to be a burrowing resident of sandy grasslands and croplands. They are fairly quiet and are easily handled.

I received my first examples of this pretty burrowing skink way back in the 1980s. They proved to be 2 males, and try though I did, I could not find a female available anywhere in the world. They fed on all manner of insects, would take an occasional pinky mouse and would accept some of the veggie mixture I prepared for the blue-tongued skinks. I had these for many years. As far as I know, when these died there no others in the USA.

I believe they were then unknown in the herp hobby until 2014 or 2015. But when the export doors opened they opened wide, and hundreds of the Scincopus flooded the pet trade. Herp importers were selling them first in the $200 to $300 dollar range, but then as the influx continued the price dropped to $70 to $100 dollars each. I have never attempted breeding this species. I did find 1 record of successful breeding on line. Ovoviviparity is the reported mode of reproduction. Perhaps you will be the one to second this.

But today as I scan importers listings the majority of the mentions read “out of stock.” So now I wonder will more be imported or has the skink become unavailable? I wonder further if anyone has actually set up breeding colonies of this skink? Or is it already a member of the “here then gone” list? Time will tell.

Finally! Jake immortalizing the collared lizard
Throughout this trip we had hip-hopped into and out of Arizona and we were now aiming for it again.

One of the lizard species that Jake wanted badly to see was the Great Basin Collared Lizard, Crotaphytus bicinctores. On earlier trips I had found these rock lovers common but on this trip they had proven nonexistent. We drove to many out-of-the-way locales and failed to see this pretty lizard, even where other observers had reported them only a few days earlier. Jake’s estimate is that we scanned 10,000 rocks to no avail. My estimate of the rocks scanned is about twice greater than Jake’s.

But finally, almost at the edge of the species’ range, Jake hollered” “STOP! I think I just saw one. Back up.” I followed his instructions and sure enough, sitting on the largest rock in an extensive pile was one lone Great Basin Collared Lizard. Another lifer for Jake. Fortunately the lizard seemed unconcerned by our presence and allowed us to take dozens of pix at close range.

The Grand Canyon was still closed due to the Covid-19 scare, so we traveled far into the Navajo Nation to try our luck, again for the Great Basin Collared Lizard as well as in hopes of other species. Even though another cold front had arrived we were fortunate enough to see a Great Basin Gopher Snake, another Lyre Snake, and a very pretty Night snake.

We were down to just one last night in the Sonoran Desert. Despite the seasonal chill we elected to try our luck for burrowing snakes in southeastern Arizona.

Like most, this Mojave Desert Sidewinder blends well with habitat color.
Now on to Utah where our target species was a Great Basin Rattlesnake, Crotalus oreganus lutosus (although the older taxonomy of C. viridis lutosus seems more fitting). But of course there were secondary targets to look for along the way. This night our “along the way” was in eastern California where we were hoping for a Colorado Desert Sidewinder, Crotalus cerastes cerastes, the only one of the 3 subspecies that Jake still needed. We had driven northward at dusk while darkness settled in.

Jake and I had been discussing the locales we needed to try for the Great Basin Rattler. Mother Nature, with her typical disregard for traveling herpers had continued to plague us with night temperatures just a couple of degrees too cool for night active species to be out and active. Many of the species on this trip that we had thought would be easy finds, shoe-ins if you will, had proven difficult at best. We were now down to only 3 days/nights remaining on this trip and the temperatures showed every indication of being problematic at best. So, with temps against us, we simply had to put as many hours on the road as possible.

About a half hour north of the almost ghost town of Trona we decided to turn around and head for the motel. Traffic was light but there were continually headlights behind us. Since were going fairly slow it didn’t take long for us to be overtaken. Trona was now behind us and several cars were closing the gap. Just about as several were poised to pass us, Jake hollered “sidewinder.” I had passed over it and once the cars whipped by I was able to turn and speed back. Sure enough, still lying quietly coiled in mid-lane was Jake’s lifer Colorado Desert Sidewinder.

Southward again and there was another sidewinder but we simply assured that it left the pavement. Was that a piece of rope in the other lane? I was able to stop quickly and Jake hopped out and returned with a beautiful little tricolored Variable Ground Snake, Sonora semiannulata. We were happy and now the motel was in sight.

Tomorrow Utah, tomorrow night, hopefully, a Great Basin Rattlesnake.

Mercedes, at home, alert, and on snail patrol.
Mercedes is back home. And he’s still alone. So Patti and I continue on our hunt for a female with which to partner Mercedes.

Mercedes is an Asian Keeled Box Turtle, Pyxidea (once Geoemyda) mouhoti. Now an Endangered species, a mere few years back this interesting turtle was a major component of the herp trade. And coinciding with the last statement, this taxon that was once so readily available, inexpensive, and easy to keep is now (year of 2020) almost impossible to obtain and cannot, without an almost impossible to get Federal Permit, be offered in interstate trade. So what happened to all of them? There are various explanations, but two that are almost certainly accurate are that they were just a 7” long brown turtle and that they were inexpensive. In the American hobbyist’s pet trade, if some bucks, preferably big bucks, cannot be made by breeding a herp there is no incentive to either keep or breed it. And all of the Mercedes’ of the pet trade fell into these categories.

A few dedicated hobbyist/breeders did hold on to a few of these turtles and a few, now a precious few, are produced each year. But it seems now that mortality pretty much equals captive production and those few lucky owners are holding tightly to the examples on hand. Breeding males can wreak havoc on the more placid females and if not closely monitored injury or death of the female may occur.

Threats to wild populations include habitat destruction including deforestation as well as for food and mostly (probably all) bogus traditional home remedy medications. The pet trade has also figured strongly in population reductions.

I mentioned above that Mercedes (now a 30 year captive) is “back home.” For the last 2 years he has been on an apparently unsuccessful breeding loan to a chelonian breeder in the northeast. We’re glad he’s back, and now we are scouring the USA for a female that we could get on breeding loan. Please, please, if you know of anyone maintaining this turtle as a pet please drop us a line. We’d like to be a part of the future availability of this species in the USA.

This box turtle is intermediate in color between the eastern and the Florida subspecies.
Like so many of Florida’s herps, Florida Box turtles, Terrapene carolina baurii, are no longer as frequently seen as once. Of course, when you stop to consider the very real reduction in natural habitat in the state of Florida, the immense increase in the traffic volume, and the slow, plodding gait of the turtle itself, this seeming reduction of the creature seems explicable—unfortunate but explicable. Of course the inexplicable segment in all of this is the deliberate destruction of road-crossing box (and other) turtles by the ROAD-IDIOTS that just have to prove that they know where each tire can do the most destruction to crossing wildlife.

But I digress. In the quarter century that I’ve lived in North Central Florida, I had seen what I thought to be a fair number in the earlier years and many fewer FL box turtles of late. An occasional one still wanders across our property or is seen elsewhere while I’m out scouring the roads and trails for photographable herps. And I see fewer still at the supposed point intergradation of the Florida box with the Eastern Box, basically at the St Mary’s River. And what have I found there?

The changes I’ve seen are gradual, not immediate as is often seen on range maps.South of the St. Mary’s I’ve see a couple that were obviously closer to an eastern than a Florida and a couple that have been just the opposite. Since I’ve never found any immediately north of the river I can make no statements regarding them. But staying south of the river and moving a bit further westward I’ve found 3 that are showing more signs of one subspecies than the other. Two have been judged on color and one has been on conformation, the latter meaning that when the turtle was viewed from above it was proportionately broader than a typical Florida box.

So what does all of this mean? Why nothing at all, but these facts did seem interesting at the time. Have you got any data to add? If so, send it along. I’d be interested in knowing your thoughts.

In some of the shallows the spring-run bottom was blackened by Black Toad Tadpoles
On the way eastward we again spiraled our way upward (stopping at just under 11,000 feet!) to see the forests of the ancient Bristlecone Pines. Some of these twisted yet stately trees are more than 4,000 years old. They survive, in fact thrive only, at altitudes and temperatures unsuitable for most other trees and mammals, but are visited (at least in summer) by Clark’;s nutcrackers, a raucous raven and jay relative.

Photos taken, we then descended to a less ear-popping elevation to look up Black Toads, Bufo exsul, a protected species. The BLM access to the spring fed flat on which the narrow spring run that was home to this population of toads, was rocky and uncomfortable. But along it we saw a Northern Desert Horned Lizard, Phrynosoma platyrhinos calidiarum and some beautiful cactus blossoms.

The black toad, a species that is active both diurnally and nocturnally, is aptly named, being black dorsally with varied marblings of white and gray and a white vertebral line. Ventrally the color is white with extensive and varied black smudging. Adults are rather small, often being a mere 2 to 2 ½” in length. We did see a few of the adults as well as hundreds of metamorphs and what seemed thousands of tadpoles. Unfortunately occasional flooding carries toads and tadpoles onto the not too distant salt flat where they quickly succumb. As untenable as this may sound, this population of the Black Toad has probably existed under these conditions for centuries. It was formally described in 1942.

The breeding call, seldom heard, is a high pitched repetitive “trill” that is best described as a rapid-chuckle. After photos were made we moved onward.

Tiny but a lifer, a pint-sized example of the Mt. Lyell Salamander
More Californ-I-A

The next day was spent first in the beauty of snow-capped mountains and later at lower elevations on some saline flats.

We had found a few of the more common toad and treefrog species and Jake wanted to add at least one salamander species to the trip total. So with the help of Mike, Jake pinpointed a tiny montane creek in the upper elevations of the Inyos. Thanx, Mike, I think. I think the term “up, up, and away” applies here, because we ascended, leveled, then ascended some more. Black-billed magpies flew overhead. The road spiraled upward, getting narrower as it gained elevation. Temperatures dropped then dropped again, Rain—cold rain—began falling. Trees were largely replaced by talus slides. Finally Jake said “OK, stop here. There’s a path somewhere.”

OK, here we were and there was actually a freshet tumbling downward. Then Jake broke the news. It was the wrong creek. The one we needed to access was much further up the mountain and around in back of the next peak over. But we had to walk from here. Well, that certainly placed the locale beyond my current ability. But Jake was “gung-ho” so to speak. And away he went. An hour later he returned wet but wearing a smile. After looking hard and hoping for an adult, he has found only a 1” long metamorph. But no matter the size, it, an Owens Valley phase of the Mt. Lyell Salamander, Hydromantes platycephalus, another lifer for him.

Deep Springs area, a roadside oasis, provided another lifer, this time for both of us. This was the Panamint Rattlesnake, Crotalus stephensi. Except for tail pattern and facial scalation this pretty and variable rattler is remarkably similar to the speckled rattler, C. pyrrhus. In fact, for decades both were subspecies of what was then the wide-ranging C. mitchelli. Jake found the single example seen by us coiled half in the shade of some chaparral. We looked hard for an example of the Panamint alligator lizard, Elgaria panamintinus, but failed to find one of these early-risers. I had seen this pretty and locally distributed lizard on an earlier trip but it would have been a lifer for Jake.

Again we headed eastward, slightly downward, then wayyyyy upwards.

Jake's lifer Red Diamond Rattlesnake
Californ-I-A

Once again before leaving AZ—we expended try number 6 for the white speckled rattlers and try number 4 for the Yuman sand lizards—we failed to see either. As of now I have officially given up trying. But the desert dunes did disclose several Goode’s Horned Lizards (these are one of the desert horned lizard clan) as well as an abundance of Desert Iguanas. The iguanas were so common that they seemed to outnumber the tiger whiptails.

Now westward again.

California was less than an hour away. In southern California, where we actually stayed for a couple of days, the temperatures moderated (read that “warmed”) just a bit allowing us to road hunt by both day and night.

That night on the desert flats we did a bit better, finding besides leaf-toed and banded geckos, Colorado Desert Sidewinders, Colorado Desert shovel-nosed snakes of both tricolor and bicolor phases, a Desert Glossy Snake, a beautiful Lyre Snake, and a classic desert phase California Kingsnake. Our luck finally seemed to be changing for the better.

The next day a group of avid local herpers (none were collectors) allowed us to join their party as they searched for (as Jake had hoped) red diamond rattlers and rosy boas. Both were found (along with a bonus Red Racer that had entangled itself in some lawn netting). The first (and only) red diamond rattler was found by Jake who barely avoided stepping on the quiet snake as it rested in deep grasses near a boulder. It was the only rattlesnake found but a single beautiful rosy boa was also located and photographed.

Later that day the group also provided a Southern Pacific Rattler (that we later turned loose) and a brownish phase speckled rattler that had been rescued from a swimming pool and was also later released.

A red diamond rattler was one of Jake's target species. Done.

There’s simply no other way to say this. Jake’s and my primary target on our recent western jaunt—a jaunt that comprised nearly 9,000 miles—had been to photo not only a white speckled rattlesnake, Crotalus pyrrhus, but a red one and a blue one as well (the ground color of this species varies in accordance with habitat color). One by one we failed. Neither were a white nor a red found, but the only blue we managed to see was found by friends (thanx again Nick and Mike) who called us and allowed us to photograph their find.

Dismal? Well, not quite.

The one way trip from home to white rattler habitat is actually only about 2,625 miles. That makes the round trip a mere 5,250 miles. So how do we account for the other ~3,000 miles?

Well, we herped TX, other parts of AZ, CA, NV, & UT. Those miles added up quickly. And with the variety of species seen the trip was actually quite successful, especially for Jake for whom many were lifers.

Jake wanted to see a red diamond rattlesnake. We saw these and several other buzztail species. Ditto variable sand snake, Nevada and Desert shovel-noses. Some Glossy, Gopher, King, and Patch-noses. To the total we added a salamander and several toad species. Then we terminated the trip with a few eastern natricines. So I guess whether this trip was a failed attempt or a success depends on how much importance is placed on the various color phases of speckled rattler. But I’ll close by saying that Jake got about 10,000 pix and I got close to 7,000. It’ll be a while before we wade through all of them.

Fallen pines and scarlet kingsnakes just seem to go together.
The salamander mentioned in the last blog having been found, I began the 60 mile drive back home. But about 20 miles into the drive I began reminiscing about a big eastern diamond-backed rattler I had seen crossing a forest road on my last trip. So I turned around and retraced my drive about 10 miles and turned into the forest. The area was a bit damper than when I had last wended my way, but I was pretty sure the diamondbacks wouldn’t mind, not that I actually thought I’d see one. But timing and temperature were on my side, so…

I drove slowly along a road once dry but now awash with rainy-season slushiness. Eventually the road ascended a few inches into pine and palmetto forest. Five minutes then 10, and still no snakes—of any kind. The next easily accessed turnaround spot was still a few minutes ahead so I continued. Sort of. But a big pine, long dead but newly fallen was lying across the road. Whoops. Turnaround was now unavoidable. But the dead pine, fully a foot in diameter, beckoned. Could I move it from the roadway? Probably not, but what the heck, it was worth a try.

And though moving the pine did prove impossible (for me) as I tried a slab of bark loosened and then slipped away. Fortuitous, yet unintended, as the bark slipped away it left behind a beautiful, 20” long scarlet kingsnake, Lampropeltis triangulum elapsoides.

Pictures were taken, the snake was placed near some remaining loose bark, and before I left had again disappeared from sight.

This was a great ending to what had until then been a mud-flung day.

One- toed Amphiuma are the smallest, most unicolored, and habitat restricted of the 3 species.
It had been a typically muggy late spring day in northcentral Florida and I had decided to take a drive to the Gulf Hammock area and try my luck in finding a one-toed amphiuma, Amphiuma pholeter. Unlike their 2 wide-ranging and larger two-toed and three-toed relatives, both of which are less restricted in habitat preference, the little one-toed species insists on a habitat consisting of a liquid mud slurry and is restricted in range to Florida’s Gulf Hammock and Panhandle as well as a tiny speck of range in sw GA and sw AL.

Amphiuma pholeter, unicolored and slender as a #2 pencil, was described in 1950 and is a unicolored grayish brown both above and below. It is fully adult at an 11 to 13 inch length. The limbs—all 4 of them—are so tiny that they may be easily overlooked, and as suggested by the common name, bear a single toe per limb.

Because of its dependence on mud-slurry habitat and spotty distribution this aquatic salamander (yes, it’s creek-side habitat is well on the watery side of dry) this little salamander can be difficult to find even in spots where it is known to exist. But once seen its unicolored body, lack of external gills, and tiny one-toed legs, are positive givaways.

So, the next time you feel like reverting to childhood mudpuddles and mudpies accentuated 100 times over, opt for a one-toed amphiuma search. You may not find the salamander but just think how rejuvenating a return to childhood ways will feel. Good luck.

An eastern hog-nose in its best cobra pose.
They don’t always erupt like the example in the first picture, but the one thing you can be sure of is that eastern hog-noses, Heterodon platirhinos, are of as variable disposition as they are of color and pattern. Whether they ignore you entirely, perform their “cobra display”, play dead, or simply assume an immobile loose coil in the grasses, for a herper an encounter with this rather common snake of eastern and central North America is always an enjoyable experience.

In the springtime you may be lucky enough to happen across a female moving slowly across a road or through vegetation that is trailed closely by one or more amorous males. In the late summer and autumn it is often the hatchlings that are encountered.

On one April day, Dan and I were driving along a mid-Florida sand road. Our way was pleasantly interrupted by a crossing brightly patterned female eastern hoggie. Before she has made it all the way across a smaller male, this one black, emerged from the roadside vegetation the female had just left and behind him were a second and third male, both brightly patterned. Almost assuredly the female was leaving behind a pheromone trail, invisible in all ways to us, but easily followed by the tongue-flicking, trailing, males.

We took a few pix, then stood quietly until the four had crossed. Quite probably, once from sight, breeding soon occurred, and egg-laying and hatching would happen in due time.

Although we saw little else on that trip, it had been a truly successful herping experience.

This is the gravid female Canebrake Rattler we saved.
I long ago stopped trying to figure out what makes canebrake rattlers, Crotalus horridus atricaudatus, do what they do. It's a whole lot easier when you realize that they just do what they want to do whenever they want to do it.

This heavily gravid female was coiled on a busy paved road in August in the full sunshine. Road surface temp was ~120F. We moved her because there were a rancher and his wife parked on the other side of the road, pistol drawn, waiting to shoot the snake when she moved. While we were easing the snake into a bucket I asked the rancher why he had waited. Said he didn't want to put a hole in the tarmac. As good a reason as any other I guess.

He asked what plans we had for the snake.

When I told him we would find a nearby quiet place and release her, the rancher looked at his wife in disbelief, shook his head, and drove off.

We did exactly as I had said we'd do and wished the snake a long life as she slowly left the confines of the pail.

And yes, I have called the snake a canebrake and not a timber. I’ve even used its old trinomial nomenclature. I have done do because I feel this remains correct. But please, call the snake anything you wish to. It simply doesn’t care.

This is a hatchling Northern Rainbow Snake
Rainbow Snakes, Farancia erytrogramma ssp (2 subspecies) were once relatively common but are now considered uncommon to very rare. The southernmost subspecies, the South Florida rainbow snake, F. e. seminola, known only from 3 examples and not seen for the last several decades, has now been declared extinct. Believers continue to hope this is not true and searches continue. The northern rainbow snake, F. e. erytrogramma, adult at 4 to 5 feet in length and nonvenomous (it can rarely be induced to bite!), once ranged south along the coastal plain from the southern tip of MD to central FL, and westward to eastern LA. It has not been seen over much of this range for a very long time. In fact, deservedly or not, one found recently (Feb 2020) in central FL was given headline publicity. It is quite likely that river damming and the corresponding marked reduction in the catadromous American eel, the primary prey item of the rainbow snake, is the main cause of the greatly lessened numbers of the rainbow snake.

Both subspecies are shown herewith

The South Florida rainbow snake, much the darker of the two, is a preserved specimen at the Florida Museum of Natural History.

This is a typically colored Canefield Kingsnake.
There was a time when because of a more than ample food supply (garter snakes, water snakes, leopard frogs and rodents) drawn by the always full irrigation ditches these big busily patterned kingsnakes were actually fairly common. In the canefields they were so abundant that market hunters collected and made them a staple of the pet industry.

Canefields? What exactly are canefields. Well without overexpounding on the subject, I’ll simply say that over vast acres, actually miles, of southcentral Florida, where the Everglades once existed, thanks to King Sugar and an often uncaring government, there are now fields of sugarcane, and sugarcane = canefields.

And the kingsnakes that once thrived there are known by the vernacular of “Canefield kings.” Their actual name is Florida Kingsnake, Lampropeltis getula floridana, and their range now extends far southward from the canefields to the tip of the Florida peninsula. But herewith we are discussing only those kings from the canefields that surround Lake Okeechobee and extend a bit southward from there.

Today (2020), due to habitat polluted by the rampant use of insecticides and pesticides, as well as major alterations of the topography that has resulted in a huge reduction of the snake’s prey species and cover in the canefields, it would seem that these beneficial snakes have gone from common to rare. This is an abrupt change in only a 3 or 4 decade time span.

As hatchlings these kingsnakes are quite dark in overall color, with often barely discernable crossbands and even more difficult to see light speckles on some of the dark scales. Colors lighten and patterns become more visible as this kingsnake grows. Adults have a light brown ground color with many scales edged in black, and with irregular off-white dorsal banding. Lateral markings are varied. Some are merely extensions of a dorsal band, some appear like a rough edged triangle, others are just whitish scales scattered haphazardly over the snake’s side. The venter is usually yellowish with yellowish checkers. The average length of predominantly terrestrial, primarily diurnal, snake is 3 ½ to 4 ½ feet. However they occasionally exceed 5 feet.

Clutch size for this kingsnake is usually between 5 and 20 eggs. Hatchlings measure between 9 and 12 inches in length.

Currently difficult to find, I must wonder whether the next decade or two will bring extirpation or renewed abundance to this iconic kingsnake. We’ll hope for the best, of course.

Hatchling Eastern Kingsnakes often have a bit of orange laterally.
Jake and I wanted to see eastern kingsnakes, Lampropeltis g. getula, There are a few places where this subspecies can be found in northern Florida but Jake insisted that we’d have a better chance in Georgia. I’m easily swayed, so on a Sunday morning, about the time the midwinter sun was thinking about rising so we piled camera and us into the car and headed northward. Once there we rendezvoused with Noah and his dad, Dave, who knew this area far better than we, and began the hunt.

Noah and Dave really did know the area. They guided us to one abandoned ramshackle shack, and the fallen roofing tins associated with such locales, after another. Many harbored rodent nests but none sheltered snakes—of any kind. Until, sometime about midday a flipped sheet of tin divulged—SNAKE!—but darn, it was only a hatchling southern black racer, Coluber constrictor priapus. The racer home was carefully replaced and we moved on.

We moved from tin pile after tin pile (called flip spots) but no other snakes. We moved on to a tangle of fallen and a few still standing dead pines. We searched high and we searched low. Just as we were about to abandon efforts, Dave called out SNAKE! He had chanced upon a juvenile gray rat snake, Pantherophis obsoletus spiloides. We actually took pix of this one. In our minds it wasn’t as good as a king, but it WAS better than a baby racer (we never told the racer this).

Time was moving on but Noah suggested one more spot. He had never found a king at the suggested spot but he felt it had potential. Off we went and 30 minutes later we stopped beside 3 pieces of plastic. Jake, Noah, and Dave piled out. I’m a lot slower these days—I watched. Beneath the first piece of plastic, nothing. Ditto on plastic number 2. But plastic piece number 3? It held in its folds the prize of the trip. As Noah happily exclaimed “The crown jewel of a fun day of tin flipping, a chunky female Eastern King.” I’ll simply add that it was scale perfect, very well nourished, and just entering ecdysis.

Photos were taken, the snake was replaced, we shook hands, hopped in the cars, and in the proverbial cloud of smoke (actually flying sand) we closed out the great kingsnake hunt.

Black-chinned red salamander
It had been an arduous drive from Florida to Tennessee. Traffic had been and continued to be heavy, the weather was warm, and scattered thunderstorms of considerable intensity had slowed traffic a bit. Drivers, often volatile, were inclined to be even more so when impeded in the slightest. We had long ago left FL behind us, a bit more recently said goodbye to Georgia, and were now bidding adieu to South Carolina. The destination of Cherokee, NC, was not too distant. As dusk enveloped us we were greeted at the NC state line by more thunder, lightning, and torrential rain. If this would just continue, the night, now hovering at 70F, should cool a bit more and be ideal for amphibian movement. A half hour later the sky was nearly clear, we had found a hotel, were lamenting the sun slowly dipping behind the curvature of the earth, had a bite to eat, and decided to continue for another 30 miles to our destination. At least traffic had thinned.

Roadsides were wet and we hope there was moisture enough to induce amphibian activity. But 30 minutes later, as thunder rumbled anew, we knew we wouldn’t have to worry. Lightning began strobing from cloud to cloud. First a gentle shower wet the woods and road, tyhen harder, and harder still. It was dark and the traffic had dwindled until there wasn’t a car in sight.

Spring peeper, Pseudacris crucifer, then another. WhoopsEurycea longicauda—a wood frog, Rana sylvatica,-missed it. An elk crossed the road. Was that a worm. Quick stop. No worm, but a Blue Ridge 2-lined salamander, Eurycea wilderae. And then another and another. Then a long-tailed salamander, Eurycea longicauda . More 2-lines and peepers. The Oconoluftee River was roaring over submerged rocks. Then 3 large salamanders in rapid succession—1 Black-chinned red, Pseudotriton ruber schencki, and 2 Blue Ridge spring salamanders, Gyrinophilus porphyriticus danielsi. Had to move over for a few cars. Another long-tail. And so it went for the next couple of hours. Then on a whim I turned into a darkened overlook, shuffled a few fallen leaves, and voila—a red cheeked salamander, Plethodon jordani. At each stop I took several photos, my flash vying with the lightning bolts, trying all the while to keep the camera dry. Managed to almost do that. New batteries needed in both camera and strobe.

Time to call it a night. Couldn’t have been better. Birding and (hopefully) bear watching tomorrow.

Motel, here we come.

A pretty female Blunt-nosed Leopard Lizard.

Finding the creature, the Blunt-nosed leopard lizard, Gambelia sila, a Federally Endangered species.took several hours of concerted searching by Tom Tyning and me. We knew sila to be a resident of California's Carizzo Plains, and it was in that area that we centered our efforts. We had been told "you'll see 'em sunning on the rocks." But, I had failed to find out exactly where these rocks were. So we looked, we drove, we hiked, and we looked some more. We finally did find a few rocks along a dried streambed, but only side-blotched lizards and California ground squirrels seemed resident there. We traipsed through lush mountain meadows, yellowed with the blooms of California poppies, and low, drouth-browned grasslands. We found gopher snakes galore. We found a southern Pacific rattler, and eventually, after a full day of searching, we found a small population of the leopard lizards. On rocks? Heck no! There wasn't a rock in sight!

As we were driving slowly down a rutted sand road, Tom quietly said "I just saw a lizard."

My query was "What kind?"

"I don't know, but it was bigger than an Uta (side-blotched lizard)."

"Where did you see it?"

"In the middle of the road. I think it went down a hole."

So I stopped, and backed up.

Yep, there was a hole there. And I guess my right tires had gone directly over it.

So I parked the car, and we got out, and sat on the ground some dozen feet away from the hole.

After several minutes of sitting a tiny nose poked above the rim of the hole. A few minutes more and an eye emerged. It was a blunt-nose, no question about that. I congratulated Tom on seeing the creature. Now, could we get photos?

The short answer was “yes, we could.” And we did.

After another 15 minutes the lizard decided we were nothing more than misplaced dirt-clods and emerged from his hole.We both got pix. Mission accomplished but not yet over. Just as dark clouds began covering the face of the late afternoon sun, we happened across a prettily colored female leopard lying quietly on the side of the trail. We both got photos there and before we left the area we had succeeded in getting pix of several more.

An iffy day had become a banner day. Thanks, Tom.

A normal colored half grown red-ear.Thanks to aid and abetting by the human race (and more specifically the pet trade) the Red-eared Slider, Trachemy scripta elegans, is now quite probably the most numerous and widespread turtle in the world. Originally known only from the Gulf Coast and Mississippi River Valley states, because of its popularity as a pet turtle and the ability of releasees and escapees to adapt to new and different temperature and habitat regimes, this turtle is now known far outside of its one-time range in the USA. It is now a well-known species in many other countries as well. Some of these foreign ports of landing and stability are ponds, lakes, and other waterways in Australia, Europe, Great Britain, South Africa, the Caribbean Islands, Israel, Bahrain, the Mariana Islands, Guam, southeast and far-east Asia, and several Central and South American countries. Where they are present they are usually easily observable, both while swimming and basking.

Although this species has been produced in many temperature and genetically influenced colors and patterns we are basically talking about normalcy here. Except for the yellow plastron hatchlings are green with lighter green to yellow markings and (usually) a red ear-stripe. The albinos are, of course, white with reddish ear stripes and occasionally additional facial striping.There are 6 pairs of darker ocelli on the plastron. And in keeping with turtles in this species complex in general, as males grow and age a suffusion of melanin darkens them. Some individuals become so dark that no other colors or markings remain visible. All colors can vary in intensity.

The red-eared slider is the same little turtle, the “little green turtle,” that was sold last century in the pet departments of almost every 5 and dime and department store in the nation. They, and the totally useless little plastic turtle bowls (adorned with a plastic palm tree) were also sold in the various countries where these turtles are now present and are considered an invasive species. The primary food then suggested for the turtles was dried ant eggs! If cared for as then directed soft shells, swollen and closed eyes were soon followed by the death of the turtle. On the other hand, if by either accident or intent the turtle was given ample room to grow and exercise, to swim and to bask, and provide with a diet of greens and fresh animal matter (worms, fish etc.), a lifespan of 25 to 60 years may be attained.

Adult at 6 to 9 inches in carapace length, an occasional individual may exceed 12”. Females are usually the larger gender. Determining gender of adults is an easy task. Not only do females have a short and rather slender tail but they have short claws on their forefeet. Males, on the other hand, have a long and thick tail and long claws on their forefeet. The elongate claws of the males are instrumental in courtship and may also help determine dominance over other males by the strongest and most persistent male. Sexing hatchlings is, in contrast, impossible.

A late winter to early summer breeder, the red-ear can have up to 6 clutches of from 4 to 25+ eggs each season. Clutch size depends on the health and size of the female. Based on temperature and ground moisture incubation varies from 2 to 3 ½ months.

Most anticipated are Speckled Rattlesnakes, Crotalus mitchelli pyrrhus, in red white and blue, all in situ.
As you read this Jake and I are hopefully either on our way back to the Sonoran Desert or already there. We’re traveling westward with a list of “hope to sees” almost as long as the wheelbase of the car. These “wannasees” run the gamut from cacti and other succulents to rattlesnakes, racers, and a few birds and mammals. About the only thing we don’t list are the invertebrates, and by this omission we probably miss seeing some of the most interesting of the desert fauna.

The good part about a list this long is that you’re bound to see at least a few of the species; the bad part is you never see all. But that’s OK because we use our failures to start another list. It’s never ending. Primary on our list this time are several rattlesnake species. But equally important are most of the little burrowing forms that seem to be increasingly hard to find. These vary from shovel-noses to sand and leaf-nosed snakes. I’ll let you know how we do in a July blog, but wish us luck. Most assuredly we’ll need it.

See ya/Dick & Jake

This aberrant marbled salamander was found in South Carolina.
At a total length of 3 ½ to 5 inches, when adult the pretty little marbled salamander, Ambystoma opacum, is only about half the length of the more familiar spotted salamander.The marbled salamander ranges southward from extreme souther NH to peninsular Florida and then westward to central western MO and eastern TX. Clad in a pretty barred dorsal pattern of white on black (male) or silver-gray on black (female) these are secretive little woodland caudatans that often require a lot of log rolling to be found.

Unlike many of the mole salamander, rather than being a spring breeder in ephemeral ponds and puddles, the marbled salamander is an autumn breeder. And rather than seeking a pond already filled, after the terrestrial courtship and fertilization, the female opacum finds a moist depression, one still lacking water but that in some way known to the salamander will (hopefully) soon be filled by the forthcoming late autumn rains, and there it lays its clutch of eggs. Once submerged larval development begins, eggs hatch, larvae grow and metamorphose, and the little salamanders find some nearby moist terrestrial site to dine, grow, and eventually repeat the rather complicated procedure. If the rains fail to materialize, the eggs, waiting patiently, have been known to remain viable for several weeks.

Newly metamorphosed marbled salamanders are dark gray to black with variably busy grayish-white dorsal and lateral patterns of flecks and specks.

This Sonoran Collared Lizard was in the Collection of Will Wells.
Tom had directed me up some rather horrible road that ascended into the mountains in the interior of Organ Pipe National Monument. The Trooper bounced and spun its way upwards. Tom sat there, intermittently singing to himself and complaining about the bumpiness of the ride. We had just gotten some nice photos of chuckwallas on granitic roadside outcrops, and now hoped to add to the collection photos of the Sonoran collared lizard, C. c. nebrius. Somehow, with a memory that often reflects that Tom is in his autumn years, he remembered seeing some specimens of this drab lizard on an earlier trip he had made through these mountains.

Eventually he directed me to park near a boulder-strewn expanse of weakly sloping mountainside, and issued a series of instructions: don't scare the lizards, don't take any pictures until I've taken mine, don't this...don't that...and above all, don't take its picture against a contrived background (this latter referring to my taking photos of difficult species in "naturalistic," as opposed to natural, setups). Tom pointed to a distant rock and stated that it had been there that he had seen the first collared lizard on his previous trip.
"You mean like the one that's sitting there now?" I asked.

And sure enough. There sat an adult male Sonoran collared lizard.

Although this race is second only to the Chihuahuan collared lizard in drabness, actually sighting a specimen was nonetheless exciting. It added a new dimension to our overall picture of this wary and wonderful lizard species.

Although not brightly colored, big-headed turtles were popular with hobbyists.
The chelonian family Platysternidae is represented by a single southeast Asian aquatic turtle species. This is the Big-headed turtle, Platysternon megacephalum. This species is distributed in one or the other of its 3 valid subspecies (megacephalum, shiui, and peguense), in southern China (including Hainan Island), southwest through northern Vietnam, Laos, Kampuchea, and northern Thailand to southern Burma where although it is a weak swimmer it dwells in cool rocky mountain brooks and streams easily climbing up and over submerged and streamedge rocks and logs on its strongly clawed legs.

This is a dusky colored turtle dorsally and yellowish ventrally. Juveniles have a horizontal black edged yellow stripe on each side of the face posterior to the eyes. The jaws and snout may be peach colored. Overall it blends well with the stream bottoms and muddy edges that it calls home.

This medium sized but rather flat turtle attains a shell length of about 7 inches. The carapace of the adults is weakly serrate on the sides and rear. The carapace of a juveniles is more strongly serrated especially on the rear of the carapace. The extremely long tail is nearly as long as the shell and may be curled upwards or to either side. Whether when curled the tail may assist in anchoring the turtle in current seems as yet an ongoing question. The head of this aptly named turtle is huge in all aspects—length, width, and height--- and cannot be withdrawn into the protection of the shell. The skull is enlarged and bony and provides a great amount of protection. The eyes are directed forward. The jaws are strong, the beak is sharp, and the turtle is not at all hesitant to bite. Food includes fish, gastropods, molluscs, aquatic insects, and worms.

This turtle is seldom bred in captivity and its reproductive habits in the wild are not well known. Clutches reportedly consist of 2 eggs and the species is not known to multiclutch.

In bygone years this species was rather readily available in the pet trade.It is now only occasionally so and when available high prices are asked. It is apparently often seen in food shops in the orient and is readily eaten by humans.

Note the tiny eyes and lack of eyecap on this burrowing snake.This primitive snake possesses a vestigial pelvic girdle that is represented externally by a pair of cloacal spurs. It is an ovoviviparous (live-bearing) species. It is non-venomous, and its diet consists mainly of other ectothermic species (caecilians, frogs, burrowing lizards and burrowing snakes). The coral pipesnake is found in the Amazonian rainforests as well as in the Guyanas and Trinidad. It is adult at 22-28 inches in length including the very short tail. Rather than dedicated eyecaps, the small eyes are covered by large translucent scales. Modified ventral scutes are present but are very narrow.

I believe this snake is so seldom seen due to its burrowing propensities, not because it is rare. We seem to find one on the crawl after every torrential rainy season shower. These examples were found in Amazonian Peru.

As you can imagine, the finding of one is always a pleasure.

Daytime green, the polkadot treefrog may have spots of yellow or red.
The Polkadot Treefrog, Hypsiboas (formerly Hyla) punctata, a Kermit lookalike, occurs pretty much throughout South America from Colombia to Argentina and from Bolivia to Brazil’s Caribbean coast. It is also found on Trinidad and Tobago. Swamps, marshes, irrigated gardens, slow-flowing oxbows, and many other moist and wet sites are home to this 1 ½ inch long frog.

In fact, it was about 20 years ago that, in company of several other treefrog species, I met the polkadot species in a water lettuce choked oxbow of Peru’s Rio Orosa. Drawn to the oxbow by the squawks, churrs, and whistles of the frogs, it soon became apparent that the chuckling notes were produced by the little reddish popeyed treefrogs with the Kermit facial expressions. Polkadot treefrogs! I collected a couple to assure that we could all get satisfactory photos (the frogs were returned to the oxbow the next night).

Yes, when found they were reddish with brighter orange dorsal polkadots and a greenish overcast. But they were not that color the next morning! In fact, except for the Kermit-like expression, they looked like different frogs. All were decidedly green, some pale, some bright lime. On some the polkadots had remained orangish, on others the dots were bright yellow. The night to day color change (metachrosis) was remarkable.

But within the last couple of years something more remarkable than mere metachrosis has been accidentally learned. The polkadot treefrog, fluoresces!

As stated in an article by Amanda Ellis: “According to (researcher) Carlos Taboada and colleagues the fluorescence intensity represents about 18−29% of the luminosity under twilight conditions and is suspected to play a possible role in the communication, camouflage and mating of the frog.”

Be this as it may, Patti, Jake, and I have seen hundreds of polkadot treefrogs at dusk and later and we have never noticed any indication of fluorescence under natural light. Now I’m really wondering about my field acumen.

Except fot the 3 obvious rows, all other scales on the Dragon Snake are minute.
Even to those among us who realized that the Dragon Snake, Xenodermus javanicus, existed, it was a species shrouded in mystery. The only detailed account of the species that I had seen were a couple of dozen sentences in John Coburn’s “The Atlas of Snakes of the World” published in 1991 by TFH. But even this was a bit incomplete. And although that volume was replete with photos, a photo of the “Dragon Snake” was sadly lacking.

But now let’s jump forward a couple of decades.

Dragon Snakes are no longer a species known only to a few taxonomists and herpetologists. This strange little nonvenomous snake is now occasionally available in the pet trade. They are still rather high-priced, but they are available. They do not appear to be super-hardy, but that may well be a case of conditions at the collecting and holding facility and/or parasitism. As usual, articles have now been written, some conflicting, but all ostensibly in the best interest of what is now thought of as an interesting snake that requires rather exacting captive conditions. This is my effort. Don’t hesitate to look elsewhere for additional or different information.

A few details here: It is certainly understandable why the dragon snake was overlooked for so many years. It is pretty much a brownish to charcoal snake—a mud-colored snake, if you will---that is nocturnal and that spends the daylight hours in creek-side burrows. They are very slender and seem to be slow moving. There is sexual dimorphism, the males being a slim 16-20 inches long and the females being a bit stouter and adult at 24 to 32 inches.

Most records are from the southeastern Malay Peninsula at elevations from sea level to about 4400 feet. This may account for some articles recommending captive temperatures of 72 to 75F. However, if records are correct, the dragon snakes now available to American hobbyists are being collected and shipped from low elevations in Java where temperatures are warmer. These snakes seem to do well at the higher room temperatures commonly found in North Florida.

Despite the 3 rows of strongly tuberculate scales on the dorsum, the skin of Xenodermus is delicate. The sides are finely scaled with much interstitial skin showing between. This is also so of the skin between the 3 rows of tuberculate dorsal scales. This skin tears easily. Use care when handling. According to keepers this snake is also very prone to moisture blisters and requires a moist subsurface but a dry surface. Success has been had with sphagnum, pads of artificial turf, and treefern trunk substrates. If frightened, including handling, rather than gliding away as most other snakes would do, the little xenoderm often becomes motionless and rigid, then resembling a twig more than a living animal.

Although dragon snakes are known to eat minnows of small size, it seems that they are preferentially a frog eater. This has been shown it seems by the readiness of most (if not all) to accept tiny treefrogs and greenhouse frogs while some refuse minnows. Care must be exercised by the keeper to assure that the prey items are not too large or that the snake is not unduly disturbed after eating, lest regurgitation occur.

If you have the facilities and time this might be a good snake to experiment a bit with. Please keep us posted. We’d all like to know how you attained your success.

A pair of scrub lizards, female at bottom.

Trash was everywhere. Old carpets. Broken furniture. Vegetative debris. Mattresses. Deteriorating wood. Cut trees. All this and more lay atop the sandy substrate that several lizards, one amphisbaenid, anurans, a few snake species, and one tortoise, the gopher tortoise called home.

We flipped, flipped, then flipped some more. The dunes seemed bereft. Only a small gecko and dead ground skink, and lots of roaches were seen. With the trash come the bugs.

But as I stood contemplating the wondrous success of the cockroaches (did you know there are over 4000 species worldwide?!) I heard a scrambling sound in a small oak next to me. I glanced over just in time to see a small grayish lizard leap from the trunk and land running. Scrub lizard, Sceloporus woodi. These small cousins of the fence lizard are not always easy to find. They top out at a length of about 5 ½ inches but are often smaller. They occur in 4 disjunct sandy regions of Florida—one such area being on the southeast and the southwest coasts and 2 in the center of the state.

This wary lizard is adept at evading detection, squirreling around a tree trunk or limb at the slightest sign of disturbance. Both sexes bear a prominent lateral stripe on each side, The male has only vague (if any) dorsal markings between the stripes but has an elongate black edged blue patch on each side of the belly and 2 blue spots on the throat. Females lack the ventral blue markings but have irregular stripes across the back.

These interesting insectivores don’t seem as common today as once. If you get a chance to look them up it may be best to do so now.

A portrait of a canefield king.Time and again Jake and I had mentioned taking a drive to South Florida and trying our luck at locating 1 or 2 of the once common and now much less common Florida peninsula kingsnakes. By today’s genetic standards these are simply eastern kings. By Linnaean standards they are easily differentiated from the eastern kingsnake. Some researchers have simply considered them an intergrade between the eastern and the South Florida kingsnake. Others (and I prefer this designation) have assigned the subspecific designation of Lampropeltis getula floridana to these. With this latter designation Florida would be populated by 4 kingsnake subspecies, the Apalachicola Lowlands, the common, the South Florida (aka Brook’s), and the Florida.

It was early in January 2020 that we finally made the jaunt southward. We beat a southbound cold front by 36 hours. And in those 36 hours we searched hard for the Peninsula (or Florida) kings. Found were garter snakes, a very disfigured yellow rat, some banded and brown water snakes, and some baby American crocodiles. No kings---Florida or otherwise.

The next morning dawned a bit “brrrrrish”—close to 50F. For Floridians that’s brrrrrish. We decided to recheck a few boards just in case a wandering king decided to seek shelter from the cool. Few boards zero kings but one bobcat. We drove 15 miles to a new venue. First several boards, zero. One more board area to recheck and the we’d be heading north again.

Glad we rechecked. 1 yearling king was at home. Quite a thrill, for it was the first one either Jake or I had seen for 10+ years.

Homeward bound!

Desert striped whipsnakles may vary geographically in color intensity but are always busily striped.

Whipsnakes including coachwhips and the closely allied racers are a snake group that is all too often completely ignored by hobbyists. Although as adults many of the racers and coachwhips can be of dark and uniform color, many of the whipsnakes are colorful at hatching and remain so throughout their their lives. For example let’s take a look at the Striped Whipsnakes. The Central Texas subspecies, Masticophis taeniata girardi, ranges southward from Central Texas well into Mexico. In contrast the Desert subspecies, M. t. taeniata, ranges northwestward from western Texas and adjacent New Mexico to central Washington. Both subspecies are snakes of the thornscrub, shrubby western grasslands, rocky and scrubby deserts, and dry open forestlands.

Like all of the racers and whipsnakes, these two are oviparous and produce only a single clutch annually. Hatchlings measure about 15”; adults may attain a length of 5to 6 feet. Their slenderness and the speed with which they disappear between and behind desert shrubs often makes the adults seems smaller.

Of these 2, the Central Texas whipsnake is the darker, usually having only a single light ventrolateral stripe and light, elongate dorsolateral blotches on each side. The latter are most prominent anteriorly. Because it has numerous white stripes on each side the desert subspecies is much the lighter of the 2. Both have whitish chins, cream to yellowish bellies, and coral subcaudal scales. Hatchlings are much like the adults in color and pattern.

It seems probable that lizards are the primary prey of these whipsnakes, but they also eat insects, amphibians, birds, and small rodents.

When taken captive they are often nervous and should e provided with ample secure hiding areas. They soon quiet down but seem to always dislike being physically restrained.

Cannibalism can occur even in axolotls of the same size.

For decades a fully aquatic (neotenic) Mexican relative of the tiger salamander has been laboratory bred for both laboratory and pet purposes. This is a species with the complicated Aztec name of axolotl (axe-o-low-tul). Scientifically it is known as Ambystoma mexicanum. These are permanent and nearly obligate neotenes, never voluntarily metamorphosing into the adult form unless water quality becomes totally untenable. Even then, many simply die, not ever beginning to metamorphose. Most that do metamorphose die a short time later. Although many are full grown at about 7 inches in total length, some attain the impressive length of nearly 10".

In spite of the fact that it comes from a country that we consider tropical, the habitat of the big, bushy-gilled axolotl is cold mountain and plateau lakes. Preferred water temperature is between 65 and 75 F.

Axolotls now occur in many more than the normal olive-brown phase. Among others are the gold, albino (white with pink eyes), leucistic (white with dark eyes), and piebald (olive and white blotched with dark eyes).

Axolotls are able to consume comparatively large food items. Worms, small freshly killed fish, beef heart, and other such items are ravenously accepted and these salamanders are usually not at all reluctant to accept food from your hand. Not uncommonly, during a feeding frenzy, axolotls will grasp, dismember, and consume the leg or a chunk of the tail of a tankmate—or even the tankmate itself. In other words watch out for cannibalism. You may consider this disconcerting, but in an axolotl community it is a fact of life. Axolotls (and most other larval salamanders) are quite able, given time, to regenerate missing limbs and tail parts. And if all else remains normal you will soon see signs of regenerative growth.

Enjoy. These are wonderful salamanders.