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.