This Cuban giant toad was active near our motel.
It was 10PM and I was strolling around the hotel at Playa Giron in Cuba’s Cienega Zapata, wearing a headlamp, just as if I knew what I was doing. In reality I knew only that it was dark and that in this general area there lived a giant toad known to us as Peltophryne peltacephalus (pelta = shield, cephalus = head), that I’ll just refer to as the Cuban giant toad. I was as unsure of even a large bufonid being active in Cuba’s extended drought as I was of the legalities of strolling between the cabins of the hotel. But perseverance paid off. About a half mile from the office eyeshine drew me to a hand-sized toad sitting quietly on a sun-dried lawn. And when I neared the hotel office I lucked into 2 others, an adult and a juvenile. As it turned out this was the only amphibian species found on the trip. But I hope to be returning during the rainy season (July) to look up additional anuran taxa on this friendly, neighboring island. An extensive trip is in the planning. Wish us luck.

This yellow example was found hanging from a low limb only a few meters from camp.
Amazon tree boas! The finding of one of these variably colored snakes was always exciting. More often than not, the color of Corallus hortulanus would be of some shade of brown dorsally and orange to off-white ventrally. But there was always the chance of happening across one clad in scales of yellow or red. Since these primarily nocturnal snakes were almost always found by their eyeshine while rather well obscured high in wateredge trees, there usually was abn animated group discussion about how we could determine the size and color. If we were lucky we would have Segundo with us and he would clamber up the tree, carefully catch the snake (or the boa would less carefully latch on to him) and both would return earthward. At other times the snake was more accessible and we all got good looks, photos aplenty, and the snake was never bothered. But there were those, and they were many, that to us were never more than an eyeshine in the rainforest.

The Amazon. Fond memories were always being made!

The crocodile tegu is a largely aquatic, 2 foot long, Amazonian species.
Kayaking the shallows of the Rio Orosa, a beautiful river in Amazonian Peru, whether by day or night, was always a pleasurable and sometimes an exciting pastime. Finding birds and an occasional caiman, with the possibility of finding such taxa as caiman lizards, anacondas, pink river dolphins, great potoos, and dozens of other taxa, or of doing a little quiet fishing, made the time spent on the water well worthwhile. And there was always the possibility of finding something just a bit different, something not really expected. That was what had happened one morning about 25 years ago. A couple of us, each in a kayak, set out shortly after sunup to check fallen trees and thickets of shrubs along the river. And we got a real surprise!

Quietly basking on one of the snags was a 2 foot long lizard that, except for the throat and the tail, appeared to be an overall bluish gray. The throat was yellow, the tail was orange dorsally and blue gray on the lower sides. This taxon was new to me in the wild, and although I was familiar with the lizard from former years it took some thought to put a name to it—Crocodile Tegu, Crocodilurus amazonicus.

Although we have found many since, the finding of that first example was surprising. I had been told by another researcher that although the taxon was well known in neighboring Brazil, they (with no reasons given) had been extirpated from Peru. That made the finding of example number one all the more memorable.

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.