Drymobius margaritifer, the speckled racer
Thornscrub surrounded us. Every time we started forward it seemed that we had first to move backward to disentangle our clothing (and since we were both wearing shorts, our skin) before we could hope to move forward. I had done this on several previous occasions so I knew that I was going to get nowhere fast. In fact, there were times when 2 steps backward were needed before moving a few inches ahead. It didn’t take Jake long to understand why I referred to the vegetation in this region (collectively, I might add) as “monkey-get-back-bushes,” If it grew here it had thorns. Sometimes the thorns were straight and pointed as a needle and placed strategically to nail you while you were moving ahead. Sometimes they were recurved like a cat’s claw and waiting in patient silence for you to try to back up a bit while you were trying to avoid their needle-like brethren. One thing you could be sure of, they were there. Jake knew this now.

So what drew us to this particular locale in the Lower Rio Grande Valley?

Why, a snake of course. But not just any snake. It was one that was at the extreme norther edge of its mostly Latin American range here on the north side of the Rio Grand (Rio Bravo, if you prefer). It was the beautiful speckled racer, Drymobius m. margaritifer, a species we were not apt to see anywhere else. In fact, we had just seen one, hence our stickery predicament. We were hoping that about 15 feet ahead of us the snake had stopped and that we could get close enough to take photos. The vegetation was vying directly the opposite.

But I’ll shorten an already long story. We won. It was almost a draw but the snake wasn’t unduly perturbed by our thrashing about and we got pix.

So what is Drymobius? It, like many racer type snakes is black with big eyes and a less than amiable disposition. But there the similarities stop. The speckled racer is 4 feet of absolute beauty. In the center of each scale is a yellow spot. And at the rear of each scale is a wash of sky blue. This gives an overall appearance to the moving serpent of an overall wash of green. But if you concentrate on one curve of the moving snake, the outside of the curve will be a beautiful blue, and the inside of the curve is mostly yellow. It’s a beautiful snake of almost magical color changes. Take a trip down and see one for yourself. If you stay on the trails there will be no personal pain involved.

A pair of diminutive Egyptian tortoises, Testudo kleinmanni.
OK, Chris, what are those?

I had ventured over to harass Chris and Mike while they unpacked a shipment of Egyptian imports. I recognized most of the herps, but the critters before now, little tortoises, were something new. They looked a bit like Hermann’s tortoises, but were much smaller, a little more elongate, and these ostensibly came from Egypt and Hermann’s didn’t, so????

And that was my introduction to the little “Egyptian” tortoise, Testudo kleinmanni. It was apparently rare back then and is now even more so. And sadly, as I later learned, those in that first shipment didn’t fare very well.

There seem to be very few of this tortoise species in America but a few are bred in zoos and by private hobbyists each year.

The highly domed carapace varies in color from a variable off-white, through buff, to brown. Reflecting more heat than darker colors, this allows the little tortoise to remain in the open and forage longer. The carapacial scutes often have dark edges or dark anterior blotches. The plastron is off white to buff and carapace is light yellow, often with two dark triangles on each of the two abdominal scutes. The head, neck, and legs are pale. These colors blend well with the light background colors of their desert home. Adult size is about 4”.

This is a chelonian species that I have never worked with. I have been told that although shy, the species does well and breeds readily once acclimated. I’m glad I had an opportunity to meet them so many years ago and hope to see more captive bred examples in the future.

Closeup and personal--a portrait of a hellbender.
Hellbender. Say the word and even herpers who have very little interest in salamanders suddenly perk up their ears. After all, this big aquatic caudatan is not only the biggest caudatan species in the USA, it is one of the 3 or 4 largest in the world. To see one of these, Cryptobranchus alleganiensis by scientific nomenclature, is always wonderful, for not only are they, the salamander, be they baby or adult, unfailingly impressive, but the stream and rivers where they dwell are equally so.

In face, it is the beauty of the surroundings, the solitude, the wading knee-deep in clear rushing waters, the verdancy of the stream-edge laurels, the foggy crispness of the mountain air, as much as the possibility and hope of seeing North America's largest salamander, that keep me returning to certain favored locales.

But there is that hope and, occasionally, persistancy pays. Once in a great while if you flip stream shallows rocks looking for shovel-nosed salamanders you just might turn up a baby ‘bender. Or if you wade enough at night, your headlamp is bright enough, and the water is running clear, you just might be lucky enough to surprise one of the bottom walking big guys while it’s out on a crayfish hunt.

I’ve spent many a night doing just that. I’ve done it in February when the edges were ice-rimmed and the water was so cold that it felt like your toes would drop off. And I’ve done it on July nights when the river ran a whole lot warmer than it had in February. And I’ve seen hellbenders a few times for my efforts. And what wonderful experiences these successes were.

Formerly Seminatrix. Now Lithodytes. Somebody needed a paper! North Florida black swamp snake.
The sun was already low in the sky when Patti and I decided to scoot on over to Sweetwater Wetlands Park for a short walk We figured we had an hour or so before the rangers would shepherd us out for the evening’s closing. A barred owl was already calling in the distance, but our target was actually a fulvous whistling duck that had flown in a couple of hours earlier. We met and chatted with another couple of strollers and rather than birds their comments were almost entirely about the number of snakes that they had “just seen” on the trails. Well, what the heck. We could do a duck AND check out a few snakes as well. Good thing we decided that, because the duck ducked us, but the snakes were active on all of the berms and trails.

There were no rarities, but there was a lot of color variation. The snakes were all natricines—water snakes, ribbon snakes, and red-bellied swamp snakes. The hand’s down winner as far as numbers were the 25 or so Florida banded water snakes, Nerodia fasciata pictiventris. They were present in all sizes from 3 foot long adults to last year’s neonates that had hardly grown an inch during the long winter dormancy. Next in number were the Florida green water snakes, Nerodia floridana. They, too, were seen in many sizes, from 3 ½ foot long adult females (the days of the 6 footers are long gone!) to 1 foot long youngsters. The ribbons numbered 2, both adults of the Peninsula persuasion, Thamnophis sauritus sackenii, the only subspecies found here. And last, but definitely not of the least interest was the single adult female North Florida black swamp snake, Liodytes (formerly Seminatrix) pygaea pygaea. Although only a foot long she was heavily gravid and nearing her parturition date. So the score was ducks zero, natricines about 35. No question about the winner there.

Mussels and crayfish beware. You are being searched for.
Rapids, calm, more rapids then more calm. Kelly and I were on the 7-Point River, now searching for, among other things, common map turtles, Graptemys geographica. Still an hour or so before dusk, robins were already chirruping their evening songs and red bats were flitting in quest of insects just a few feet above the water.

Thanx to Kelly and another AR GFC biologist, both of whom dove deeply to check on Ozark hellbenders, Cryptobranchus bishopi, I had already had an opportunity to see and photo one of these huge salamanders. Throughout that float we had been watched by raccoon, a mink, and taunted by common map turtles that rose from the depths almost, but not quite, in reach from the boat.

But now we had a longer net that I hoped would increase our chance of getting up close and personal with one of these chelonians. It didn’t. They continued to surface but as if divining our intent, all were now even more distant. Well, darn.

While not the largest of the genus, the common map turtle is big. Females attain a 10” carapace length and males are between 4 and 6” in shell length. Females, mollusk and crustacean eaters, develop the enlarged head associated with such a diet. IOW, they are an impressive turtle. And I had just about decided I was going to have to leave with no photo.

But Lady Luck was with us. Just as we beached a big female map turtle came trudging down the sandy bank. Probably returning to the river from a nesting, pix were taken, and we, turtle and humans, went merrily on our individual ways.

Thanx again, Kelly. Yours is a beautiful region.

This is an example of one of the less colorful Rich Mountain salamanders.
If discussions about salamanders come up at all, it is often the big mole salamanders, newts, hellbenders, or the Appalachian group of plethodontids that have brought the discussion about. All too often the caudates of the central states are completely overlooked. This is sad because there are some noteworthy salamander taxa in the montane regions of Missouri and Arkansas. On more than one occasion I’ve hopped in the car and headed westward, photos of the grotto salamander, the ringed salamander, or the beautiful and variable Rich Mountain salamander, Plethodon ouachitae,

As I mentioned above, the Rich Mountain salamander, a very typical plethodontid, is a variable taxon. Adult at a robust 5 to 6 inch length, in some populations this salamander may simply be black and marked dorsally and laterally with a variable number of white and bronze flecks. Elsewhere it may retain the variable flecking on black sides but have a have a beautiful, rich, chestnut dorsum, it too being flecked. On some examples the flecking may be so reduced that it can be overlooked at first glance, and on others, as mentioned, it may be the chestnut coloring that is reduced.

At the eastern end of its range the Rich Mountain salamander may hybridize with the closely related Fourche Mountain salamander, Plethodon fourchensis. This latter was long considered a subspecies of P. ouachitae, and probably should have remained so.

The pretty Rich Mountain salamander occurs in a variety of habitats. Some populations seem to prefer the cover of leaf and moss covered rock slides. Others may be found beneath damp logs or trash.

But one thing is certain. If you like caudates the Rich Mountain salamander is well worth the time you spend in your search, but be certain you do photograph enough to display at least some of the wide variations in color.