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.