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.