Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
7:30pm - calls of Hyla cinerea heard from various parts of the marsh, particularly from a an armadillo emerged from the thicket and began to dig. We hiked for an additional 2 miles
Texas Field Notes
6/29/08 - arrival in Alpine at 8:00pm, approximately sunset. Between Alpine and Mara Hwy 118 - species seen included Rhinocheilus lecontei, AOR adult, one mile south of the bor Several Phrynosoma modestum seen, north of Study Butte, along the right-of-way. Temp A journal of observations and essays regarding wildlife and wild places in Texas
July, 2012 Volume 6, Issue 3 Inside This Issue
Texas Rat Snake Photo: Michael Smith
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Imperfect Solutions
2
Pioneer Herping in Shackelford County
8
Seen In the Field
14
Amazing Invertebrates
17
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Texas Field Notes is © 2012 by Michael Smith & Clint King, All rights reserved. Statement of purpose: Texas Field Notes exists to advance the following purposes: (a) appreciation of wildlife and wild places in Texas; (b) understanding of natural history and biological concepts; and (c) support for conservation of plant and animal communities in Texas. Editors and Principal Writers: Michael Smith & Clint King. Photo credits with the authors unless otherwise noted.
Text & Photos by Michael Smith
Imperfect Solutions and No Solutions at All: Relocating Reptiles to Rescue or Conserve Them By Michael Smith
Rob Denkhaus Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge
Carl Franklin UTA Amphibian & Reptile Diversity Research Center
Dr. Andy Gluesenkamp Texas Parks & Wildlife Department
Dr. Travis LaDuc University of Texas at Austin
Dr. Malcolm McCallum University of Missouri, Kansas City
Dr. John Placyk University of Texas at Tyler
Suzanne Tuttle Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge Texas Field Notes benefits greatly from the input of our advisors, but responsibility for any errors or shortcomings rests with the authors
Some years ago, I was called to catch and remove a large Texas rat snake that was said to be taking a toll on the ducklings at a private school that had a barnyard and some animals. The school backed up to a creek in south Arlington, which almost certainly was the corridor through which this snake had wandered. I came out and poked around through the hay in the little barn, and soon captured public enemy number one, which was a handsome snake about five feet long. Now what would I do with her? Clearly she could not stay; when little kids are losing their ducklings, there is no reprieve for the perpetrator. I decided on relocating this nuisance snake. There’s no telling how many other Texas rat snakes got relocated that year in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, but these snakes turn up very often and property owners often are unwilling to let them stay. I took this snake across the county to a prairie stream with a sizable corridor of trees, pulled it out of the bag and admired it one last time, it bit me one last time (it was, after all, a Texas rat snake) and I released it to climb onto one branch after another, ever upward into the tree canopy. I hope she did well, but there is plenty of reason to think she may not have. Plenty of other relocated snakes may not do well, either. — page 2 —
Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
Imperfect Solutions (continued) As a mature adult, this rat snake may have lived along her previous creek corridor for years, living off mice and nestling birds, and occasionally venturing unnoticed into someone’s yard or into the little barnyard of the school. She would have learned the landmarks and would likely travel within an area that could be called her “home range.” Many studies, in species after species of reptile, have tracked individual animals to see how far they roam, and after being found over and over again (usually by radio tracking) an area can be described within which the animal typically stays. This is the home range. Some reptiles have well-defined locations where they hibernate, and other locations where they forage in the summer. The same snake may travel to the same spot to hibernate every year and then return in the spring to the same area to reproduce and hunt for food. Depending on the species, the home range may be quite small or may be fairly large. Apparently, little is known about home range size for the Texas rat snake, but one study found that the home range size for black rat snakes in Kansas was about 25 to 30 acres. Since the black rat snake is the same species, just a geographically different form, it may be that this is about the size property that Texas rat snakes call home. And so, this snake suddenly found herself in a place that was totally unfamiliar. As she moved around, she would not find any landmarks that she recognized. Perhaps she wandered around, got to know her new surroundings, found adequate food and shelter and developed a home range in this new location. On the other hand, some reptiles have a tendency to search for the previous home when they are displaced. When moved too far away, such animals may continue wandering and expend so much time and energy in the search that they are not able to find adequate food and shelter, and may ultimately die. This tendency to stay put and, if moved, try to find your way home is called “site fidelity.” Tracking of box turtle movements sometimes shows predictable visits to local landmarks such as water sources, fencelines, and sources of shelter. They clearly learn how to get around in familiar areas, and if moved outside their home range, many of them tend to set off in relatively straight lines, as if seeking their old home. If moved only a short distance, they may find their way home, but if moved too far, they may wander into harm’s way or simply fail to settle down and successfully make use of the local resources. By “resources,” biologists mean the things needed for living and reproducing, such as food, water, shelter, mates, and protected areas in winter. By knowing a reptile’s natural history – its habits and needs – we can make good predictions about its movements. If a small habitat patch meets the animal’s needs very well, it will likely have a small home range. Species that actively forage for food that is not easily replenished must cover more ground to “make a living” and will likely have larger home ranges (Pough, et al., 1998). For some, a nomadic existence with no site fidelity may be the most adaptive strategy. On the other hand, if you live in an area with all the needed resources, it makes sense to have high site fidelity and not give up a good thing.
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Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Imperfect Solutions (continued) Why would anyone relocate, or “translocate,” reptiles? In the case of the Texas rat snake, I was interested in keeping the snake from being killed. When a reptile’s location conflicts with human activities, the reptile is a “nuisance” animal and is generally moved or killed, unless the humans can be convinced that there is really no conflict. When animals that are legally protected get in the way of economic development, those animals are typically moved in what is referred to as “mitigation,” meaning that translocating them supposedly mitigates (makes less severe) the damage done to the animals. An additional reason that reptiles may be translocated is for conservation purposes, such as to reintroduce a species into an area where they were once found but have disappeared. The big question is: does it work? Herpetologists have been debating this for some time. It sounds good and it looks good, when the animal is released in a place that looks like suitable habitat and makes its way to freedom. We tend to feel good as we watch this. Whatever happens next, we rarely see or hear about, and so we often assume that it is a “happily ever after” story. Biologists have, however, conducted research to try to discover what happens after the animal is released, and the results are sometimes discouraging. In 1991, Kenneth Dodd and Richard Siegel reviewed the research on translocation for conservation purposes. They defined a successful program as one that results in a population that is self-sustaining (stable and reproducing such that the population will be maintained). Of the projects reviewed, only 19% were classified as successful. All but one of these involved crocodilians, and Dodd & Siegel concluded that, at that point, no translocation program had been able to establish a “self-sustaining population of snakes, turtles, frogs, or salamanders” (Dodd & Siegel, 1991, p. 340). In a rejoinder article, Russell Burke pointed out that there are many examples of “successful” translocations if you consider accidental and ill-advised situations such as the invasion of the brown tree snake on Guam, the introduction of the marine toad into places like Australia, and the proliferation of red-eared sliders in various places around the world (Burke, 1991). He suggested that studying biological invasions might help us learn more about how to successfully translocate animals for conservation purposes. In the 1990s, Erika Nowak and her colleagues studied how translocation of “nuisance” rattlesnakes affected those snakes’ movement and survival (Nowak & van Riper, 1999). Snakes were moved from visitor areas at Montezuma Castle National Monument and released two kilometers outside their home range that had previously been determined by radio tracking. Four of seven translocated snakes eventually returned to their initial home ranges. The rest tended to mov e greater distances in their daily travels, and they also tended to switch hibernacula. During milder winters in places like Arizona (where the study took place), this may be less risky, but translocated snakes in more northern climates have worse outcomes. In one case, released eastern massasaugas froze because the spot they chose did not get them below the
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Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
Imperfect Solutions (continued)
frost line. In another, a timber rattlesnake which evidently followed a conspecific’s scent trail to a hibernaculum did not enter it and was found frozen outside this potential den site. Howard Reinert and his colleagues translocated timber rattlesnakes to distances between 8 to 172 km from their native populations and studied their movement patterns and survival (Reinert & Rupert, 1999). The translocated snakes foraged successfully and maintained adequate weight, but nevertheless six of the eleven snakes died. This is a much higher mortality rate than among the resident snakes at the relocation site (only 2 of the 18 resident snakes died during that time). Three of the translocated snakes died during the winter, despite the availability of hibernation sites, two died from predation, and one from disease. Reinert found that the translocated snakes traveled for much greater distances than did the resident snakes. Box turtles have been studied well enough to show that they have relatively small home ranges and attempt to “go home” when they are moved. Bill Belzer worked on box turtle repatriation in Pennsylvania for a number of years, radio tracking and retrieving turtles that wandered away following release in the area, and found that over 60% of the displaced turtles failed to establish new home ranges (Belzer, 2002). Robert Cook introduced eastern box turtles to a 579 hectare site in Brooklyn, NY (Cook, 2004). This site had once been a salt marsh, and was filled in the 1920s. A total of 337 box turtles were released into this site, and 53 of them were radio tracked for up to seven years. Of the radio tracked turtles, just under half established home ranges. The remainder of the turtles either died before they could establish home ranges or wandered off the site. Cook did begin to find young turtles, indicating that some reproduction was taking place. Cook was encouraged that roughly half the turtles did settle in and some reproductive output was seen, but he concluded that it was too early to be sure that the program was successful. The gopher tortoise is another chelonian species that has been subject to numerous translocation efforts because of development and habitat loss in the southeastern states. Tuberville and colleagues translocated 106 tortoises, but kept a substantial number of them penned at the release site for either 9 or 12 months (Tuberville, et al., 2005). This is called a “soft release,” as the animals are introduced to the site under controlled conditions before being completely released. It is an often-used strategy in wildlife translocation projects. Tortoises released without being penned tended to wander off the release site (only 3 of 13 stayed).
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What may happen if we translocate a reptile? • If the site is not a good match, the reptile will likely die or live a stressed and shortened life • If the animals are not a good genetic match with residents of that species, the genetic fitness of the population will suffer • If the resident population is “saturated,” all will suffer due to competition for resources • If the reptile being moved carries a disease, the resident population may become infected • The translocated animal may not settle into a new home range and may fail to find or use needed resources • The translocated animal may wander away from the release site in a homing attempt • If circumstances are just right, the translocated animal may thrive and do no harm
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Imperfect Solutions (continued) In contrast, those that were first confined at the site mostly stayed on the site during the first year after release (61.5% of those penned for 9 months and 91.7% of those held for 12 months). In an article published in 2008, Jennifer Germano and Phillip Bishop revisited the issue of whether translocating amphibians and reptiles can be an effective conservation strategy (Germano & Bishop, 2008). They reviewed the work done since Dodd & Siegel’s review in 1991, and found that more recent work was more successful. They pointed out that with greater documentation of declines in herpetofauna, proactive conservation strategies are needed more than ever, and captive “assurance colonies” of herp species (for eventual release) play an increasing role in conservation. Using success criteria similar to those of Dodd & Siegel, these authors found that 41% of projects appeared to be successful. They also found that the success of amphibian translocation programs was related to number of animals released, with highest success occurring when a thousand or more individuals were released. For reptiles, success was more related to whether the project was for conservation or for mitigation. Mitigation projects had lower success rates, perhaps due to inadequate monitoring or problems with the habitat into which the animals were released. The article shows that while more is being learned about translocation, over half the projects cannot be considered successes. What does all of this suggest for those of us who may be involved in rescuing and perhaps translocating herps, either for the sake of the individual animal (like my Texas rat snake) or to advance conservation goals? 1. Realize that translocating an animal is an imperfect solution or possibly no solution at all, so if there is another option that does not involve moving the animal, consider it carefully. 2. Releasing a species that is not native to the release site is almost universally considered a terrible idea, and should be avoided at all costs. 3. If a “nuisance” animal must be moved and released, choose the nearest suitable location, to minimize possibility of disease transmission or introducing maladaptive genes. 4. Knowing what might be a suitable location involves a good understanding of the natural history of the species as well as understanding of different habitat types and knowledge of the property where a release may occur (involving an area at least the size of that species’ home range). 5. If we identify a suitable location, permission must be obtained from whoever owns or manages the land (for example, a landowner or refuge manager). 6. An animal that must be moved out of harm’s way must be held only briefly and not exposed to other individuals, to avoid risk of infection and disease transmission. Animals of unknown origin (which includes most captives) should never be released. 7. Projects involving releasing animals to replenish or build a population of herps are complicated and risky, require careful analysis of the release site and surrounding area, determination of the health and genetics of the animals to be released, long-term monitoring of the animals released, and should be left to teams of people with the knowledge, commitment, and resources to do it right. Examples of teams of people who have the resources and skill to do it right include the Orianne Society (http://www.oriannesociety.org/), the Turtle Survival Alliance (http://www.turtlesurvival.org/), and others. Projects often involve a partnership between NGOs, zoos, and agencies.
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Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
Imperfect Solutions (continued)
References Belzer, B. 2002. A nine year study of eastern box turtle courtship with implications for reproductive success and conservation in a translocated population. Turtle & Tortoise Newsletter, 6:17-26. Burke, R.L. 1991. Relocations, repatriations, and translocations of amphibians and reptiles: Taking a broader view. Herpetologica, 47(3), Pp. 350-357. Cook, R.P. 2004. Dispersal, home range establishment, survival, and reproduction of translocated eastern box turtles, Terrapene c. carolina. Applied Herpetology, 1, Pp. 197-228. Dodd, C.K., & R.A. Siegel. 1991. Relocation, repatriation, and translocation of amphibians and reptiles: Are they conservation strategies that work? Herpetologica, 47(3), Pp. 336-350. Germano, J.M., & P.J. Bishop. 2008. Suitability of amphibians and reptiles for translocation. Conservation Biology, 23(1), Pp. 7-15. Nowak, E.M., & C. van Riper. 1999. Effects and effectiveness of rattlesnake relocation at Montezuma Castle National Monument. USGS, Technical Report Series. Pough, F.H., R.M. Andrews, J.E. Cadle, M.L. Crump, A.H. Savitzky, & K.D. Wells. 1998. Herpetology. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Reinert, H.K., & Rupert, R.R. 1999. Impacts of translocation on behavior and survival of timber rattlesnakes (Crotalus horridus). Journal of Herpetology, 33(1), Pp. 45-61. Tuberville, T.D., E.E. Clark, K.A. Buhlmann, & J. W. Gibbons. 2005. Translocation as a conservation tool: site fidelity and movement of repatriated gopher tortoises (Gopherus polyphemus). Animal Conservation, 8, Pp. 349-358.
Texas Herp Naturalists Partners with PARC to Sponsor the “Year of the Lizard” in 2012 This year, various conservation groups working with PARC will contribute to an educational and conservation effort, the “Year of the Lizard.” The website can be found at: www.yearofthelizard.org The website notes, “As 2012 unfolds, we will shine a spotlight on our amazing lizard fauna and highlight the work of researchers, land managers, and the public to develop conservation measures to identify threats and forestall losses at local levels.” — page 7 —
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Pioneer Herping in Shackelford County Gaining access to private land is a field herper’s dream. It is uninterrupted, unbound, and unrestrained. There is no sharing space with other visitors or abiding by rules other that those given by the state. There are no gates that lock at sunset. It is an all-around splendid tract of isolation just waiting to be trekked. So when the man from whom I lease my own little section of private land invited me to come out and herp on his 2,000 acres in Shackelford County, Texas, I readily accepted. Amber and I headed down in mid-May, several days after the area had received a series of light thunderstorms. The property is about two hours to the west of the metroplex. It is a rugged, arid, rocky landscape, replete with limestone hills. Dense thickets of mesquite and honey locust provide dappled shade over impenetrable stands of prickly pear cactus. The stony ground yields little to offer for all but the toughest flora, such as horse-crippler, pincushion, and pencil cactus as well as creosote bush. Small stands of the resilient scrub oak are the only real providers of shade, and even these are scarce, drowned out by the countless mesquites. The Morris Ranch was every bit of 2,000 acres of this. It had been handed down to my friend by his grandfather, who was an avid collector of Native American artifacts and had purchased it because of the large hill that made up the property’s northwest corner. It is a place of rare and true seclusion, located on a dirt county road some thirty miles from the interstate. And we were to be the first people to explore it aside from my friend’s immediate family, who have been hunting deer on it for three decades. In other words, no stone had ever been turned, or at least not in search of anything reptilian, and I felt like some early American herping pioneer. — page 8 —
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Volume 6, Issue 3
Pioneer Herping (continued) We arrived around six in the evening, and the ambient air temperature was in the low nineties. It was a mile-long drive down a primitive dirt path to the back of the property, which ended up at the foot of the hill. The path narrowed as it made a sharp rise in elevation, and soon became impassable except by foot or perhaps an ATV. Being without ATV, we parked the truck and began hoofing it up the incline towards the hilltop, where we could get a good vantage point in which to view the property as a whole. Our plans were to scope out the lay of the land for a suitable place to camp, then find a way to get the truck there and pitch a tent. Of course, being an amateur herpetologist and entomologist, even something as simple as a hike up a hill becomes complicated, and I was soon encumbered with an aerial net, jars, a camera, and my trusty snake hook. Once we had reached the summit, with a jar full of rainbow grasshoppers, which are a beautiful, tri-colored desert biome species, we pushed our way through the dense carpet of dried grass that covered the hilltop like a wild crop of straw-colored hair. The prickly pear grew higher here than on the lowland, and in certain places was well above our heads. But in short time we found a break in the brush, and gazed down on the property in awe. To my surprise, there were four ponds, and I knew these scarce water sources would be perfect places to find an array of thirsty fauna that would be drawn to them like steel fragments to a magnet. There were also several deer stands and feral hog traps set up near these ponds, and I had brought along a .20 gauge shotgun to help whittle away at the nuisance hogs that have been devastating the land all across the state. The best place to set up camp appeared to be a large, open area of sandy ground along the eastern edge of one of the smaller ponds, as it appeared to be devoid of mesquite and cacti, and would provide us with the opportunity to see some nocturnal animals right near the tent if we were lucky. So we hiked back downhill and returned to the truck, then drove to the site. There was still an hour or so of daylight left, and the inquisitive child in me triumphed over my adult reasoning, and I suggested we do a little nature-exploring around the pond prior to throwing the tent up. My wife, long-accustomed to this type of behavior, only nodded in reluctant agreement and without saying a word handed me my snake hook. Immediately I began finding herps, in spite of the heat that was beating down upon us like God’s very own private incandescent lamp. A pair of Texas spotted whiptails (Aspidoscelis gularis) broke up their courtship ritual and headed for a stand of greenbriar, with the male in hot pursuit behind the female. Down at the pond edge, newly metamorphosed eastern cricket frogs (Acris crepitans) and spotted chorus frogs (Pseudacris clarkii) exploded from the mud to the safety of the water like tiny kernels of popping corn. Southern leopard frogs (Lithobates sphenocephala), and bullfrogs (Lithobates catesbeiana) also hit the water with loud ‘ker-plops’, crying out in alarm like squeak toys. Before too long the sun had begun its inevitable descent over the western horizon, and Amber suggested we pitch the tent soon unless we wished to do it by flashlight. On the way back to the campsite we came across our first snake. An adult western diamondback rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) came cruising across the trail in front of us at a leisurely pace. Amber spotted it first, and the proverbial cry of “Snake!” rang out in the air. Our thundering footsteps caused instant ground vibration along the rocky path, and the creature sensed it and picked up the pace from rectilinear movement to serpentine. By the time I had gotten the camera ready it had crossed the trail, and soon disappeared into a dense crop of six foot tall prickly pear. Not long after this, another exciting find added to our good fortune, this one of the invertebrate kind. It was a tarantula hawk (Pepsis sp.) a predatory wasp, the largest species in the U.S. These bold, fearsome insects are solitary hunters, the females seeking out tarantulas and fearlessly overpowering them with a paralyzing sting before poking them down a preexcavated burrow and inserting an egg into the body. The still-living, immobile spider then serves as a host for the larval wasp. It takes a lot of wasp to subdue a fully grown tarantula, and this one was two inches in length, with a wingspan of — page 9 —
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Pioneer Herping (continued)
Massasauga swallowing a skink
over three inches. It flew in from the mesquite thicket like a miniature Cessna, hovering on rusty orange wings for a second before landing on the ground in front of us, its metallic blue-black body scampering along the ground in what could have passed for either excitement of the thrill of the hunt or some type of eager blood-lust. Once the tent had been set up, I stretched a white sheet between two forked branches of a honey locust tree and turned on my portable blacklight in order to attract nocturnal flying insects which are drawn in by the ultraviolet light. Amber commented that I was the only camper she had ever known who purposefully attracted bugs to a campsite. I returned with the wry comment that perhaps she had been camping with the wrong types of people all these years. No sooner had we set up than I was ready to get in the truck and do some night cruising on the dirt trail in search of snakes. Our headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the dirt track ahead, and it didn’t take long before they revealed a second western diamondback, caught in the middle of its nocturnal foray. This one stood its ground boldly in defiance of my intrusion, and I snapped a quick picture of it in its typical defensive posture before moving on. Our next find, a couple of minutes later, was much more exciting. An adult western massasauga (Sistrurus catenatus tergeminus) was stretched across the trail in the process of swallowing a Great Plains skink (Plestiodon obsoleta). Only the robust, smooth-scaled tail of the hapless lizard could be seen protruding from the voracious serpent’s mouth. The remainder of the night revealed two common kingsnakes (Lampropeltis getula splendida X holbrooki) which are intergrade forms between the speckled and desert kingsnakes. We also found a nice adult Texas rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus), as well as a huge centipede of the genus Scolopendra. By eleven o’ clock the activity seemed to have shut down though, so we retired to the tent in an attempt to get some much-needed rest in preparation of the day ahead. We awoke bright and early at sunup (Amber is a trooper), and elected to hit the hill for some rock flipping before it got too hot. We traipsed along at a slow, steady pace, my wife scanning the ground for arrowheads (which is where her principal interests lie) and I tried to look for insects and lizards at the same time. The insect fauna was magnificently diverse, as it is almost anywhere in the world. I found flightless tiger beetles, ornately patterned orange and black checkered beetles, and a pair of jaws that looked like serrated tree loppers. When provoked further, the three-inch long beastie leapt to the ground from its perch on a creosote bush, raised its spiked front legs above its head in a Nixonian — page 10 —
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Volume 6, Issue 3
Pioneer Herping (continued) stance, and did a strange, triballooking dance with its brightlyspotted turquoise and yellow underwings exposed. We investigated around a small pond, where a large yellow mud turtle (Kinosternon flavescens) climbed onto a raised mud bank and proceeded to bask in the rays of the quickly-rising sun. From there we traveled uphill, me flipping rocks like mad and Amber claiming victory at last as she discovered an arrowhead unearthed from the recent rains after several hundred years of burial. On a steep butte under a boulder almost too heavy to lift, I scared up a male eastern collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris), his stocky jade green body taking off like a reptilian rocket across the ground, putting as much distance between him and me as he could get. He was so fast I didn’t get to see where he went, let alone get a picture. These huge, brightly-colored saurians are among my favorites, and I had hoped for the slim chance that I could subdue one long enough to photograph it. We herped the hillside for another two hours. Amber turned up a handful of beads and flint chips, and I discovered a prairie ringneck snake (Diadophis punctatus arnyi), which posed in typical ringneck fashion, flipping over and forming its body into a series of yellow kinks, the vivid scarlet tail curled into a tight corkscrew. I also flipped up another collared lizard, this one a comparatively drab female, but she got up on her hind legs and sprinted uphill for a good ten yards like a tiny dinosaur, and although I was unable to get a picture yet again, this second individual proved that the species was doing well in the area. Ringneck snake (ventral view)
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Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Pioneer Herping (continued)
Western coachwhip
At this point the sun was high, and hot, and I had flipped enough rocks to turn my hands into a raw mess of tender, scraped flesh. So we abandoned the hill and headed back in the direction of the tent. But the herping wasn’t over yet. At the foot of the hill in a creosote bush I found a huge western coachwhip (Coluber flagellum testaceus), its stomach bulging with a large, tube-shaped meal that could have very easily have been a collared lizard. Weighed down by its breakfast and unable to flee, the lithe, wiry diurnal snake bunched its body up into a tight series of loops and faced me. Impressed by its nerve in the face of danger, I snapped a couple of quick shots and then left the coachwhip alone to digest his prize. By this time it was one o’clock in the afternoon, so we went for a drive to survey the surrounding countryside and take advantage of some much-needed water and air conditioning. On the dirt county road we crossed a creek, and three different species of turtles were basking on a fallen mesquite log. Two were common sights, a red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) and Metter’s river cooter (Pseudemys concinna metteri). But the one in the middle was an unexpected find indeed. It was a Midland smooth softshell (Apalone muticus). I had no idea the species ranged this far south. I had the ill luck of having left the backpack containing the camera in the bed of the truck, and although I tried my best to sneak out and retrieve it, the opening of the truck door spooked one of the turtles, which sounded the alarm for the whole lot to abandon ship. They dropped into the rain-swollen muddy creek en masse, and yet another great shot was lost. Eventually we came to the state highway, and we took it in a wide loop back around. On the pavement, we found a couple of DOR snakes, a second western massasauga and a third western diamondback. — page 12 —
Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
Pioneer Herping (continued) Time was running out , and the sun was at its zenith in the sky now, beating down on us relentlessly as we broke down the tent and set up the grill for some hot dogs. We ate at pondside, and afterwards netted dragonflies and damselflies and threw bits of hotdog to the turtles, which devoured them with all the gusto of the human-tolerant chelonian residents at the Fort Worth Botanical Gardens. Yellow mud turtles and red-eared sliders came to our feet as if they were on a feeding schedule, but a giant common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) kept its distance, opting instead to float on top of the water, its massive knobby shell breaking the pond’s surface as it watched its smaller kin chowing down on the hotdog bits. We tried our hand at fishing, and on the first cast I caught a young largemouth bass. But eventually that old thief time caught up with us, and the hour of our departure drew nigh. It had been a wonderful Memorial Day weekend, full of adventure, excitement, and plenty of memories from the field. And if the weekend’s success was any indication of the coming summer’s, we were going to be in for one memorable year.
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Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
What are you seeing when you’re out in the field? We’d love to hear from you about it, and we will print the most interesting observations for each quarter on this page. Just send the species, the month and county in which it was seen, to michael@texasherp.org. If you’ve got a photo of your sighting, include it and maybe we can print it, too!
Reports this quarter are from: Matthew Abernathy (ma); Ruthann Panipinto (rp); Suzanne Tuttle (st); Stuart Tennyson (stn); Clint King (ck); Michael Smith (ms); Thom Marshall (tm); Steve Levey (sl) Cross Timbers & Prairies Green treefrog (Hyla cinerea) - ms Eastern cricket frog (Acris crepitans) - ck Great Plains narrowmouth toad (Gastrophryne olivacea) - ck Southern leopard frog (Lithobates sphenocephalus utricularius) ms, ck American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) - ck Woodhouse’s toad (Anaxyrus woodhousii) - ck Gulf Coast toad (Incilius nebulifer) - ck Red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) - ck River cooter (Pseudemys concinna) - ck, ms Mediterranean gecko (Hemidactylus turcicus) - ck Texas spiny lizard (Sceloporus olivaceus) - ms, ck Texas spotted whiptail (Aspidoscelis gularis) - ck, ms Six-lined racerunner (Aspidoscelis sexlineatus) - ck, ms Texas greater earless lizard (Cophosaurus texanus texanus) - ck Five-lined skink (Plestiodon fasciatus) - st, ms Little brown skink (Scincella lateralis) - ms, ck Broad-headed skink (Plestiodon laticeps) - ms, ck Western ribbon snake (Thamnophis proximus) - ms, ck Rough earth snake (Virginia striatula) - ck Texas brown snake (Storeria dekayi texanum) - ms, ck Blotched water snake (Nerodia erythrogaster transversa) - ms, ck Diamond-backed water snake (Nerodia rhombifer rhombifer) - ms, ck Rough green snake (Opheodrys aestivus) - tm, ck Speckled kingsnake (Lampropeltis getula holbrooki/splendida) - ms Prairie kingsnake (Lampropeltis calligaster calligaster) - ck Texas rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus) - ms, ck Great Plains rat snake (Pantherophis emoryi) - ck Bullsnake (Pituophis catenifer sayi) - ck Eastern yellow-bellied racer (Coluber constrictor flaviventris) - ck Western coachwhip (Coluber flagellum testaceus) - ms, ck
Flat-headed snake (Tantilla gracilis) - ck Western diamond-backed rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) - ms, ck Timber rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus) - ck Broad-banded copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix laticinctus) - ck Western cottonmouth (Agkistrodon piscivorus leucostoma) - ck
Rolling Plains Southern leopard frog (Lithobates sphenocephalus utricularius) - ck American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) - ck Eastern cricket frog (Acris crepitans) - ck Common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) - ck Yellow mud turtle (Kinosternon flavescens) - ck Midland smooth softshell (Apalone mutica mutica) - ck Metter’s river cooter (Pseudemys concinna metteri) - ck Texas spiny lizard (Sceloporus olivaceus) - ck Texas spotted whiptail (Aspidoscelis gularis) - ck Eastern collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris) - ck Speckled kingsnake (Lampropeltis getula holbrooki/splendida) - ck Texas rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus) - ck Prairie ring-necked snake (Diadophis punctatus arnyi) - ck Western coachwhip (Coluber flagellum testaceus) - ck Western diamond-backed rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) - ck Western massasauga (Sistrurus catenatus tergeminus) - ck
— page 14 —
Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
Seen in the Field - April-June 2012 (continued) Post Oak Savannah Eastern cricket frog (Acris crepitans) - ck Gray treefrog (Hyla versicolor) - ck Cope’s gray treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) - ck Eastern narrowmouth toad (Gastrophryne carolinensis) - ck Southern leopard frog (Lithobates sphenocephalus utricularius) - ck American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) - ck Woodhouse’s toad (Anaxyrus woodhousii) - ck Hurter’s spadefoot (Scaphiopus hurterii) - ck Common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) - ck Red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) - ck Texas spotted whiptail (Aspidoscelis gularis) - ck Six-lined racerunner (Aspidoscelis sexlineatus) - ck Green anole (Anolis carolinensis) - ck Little brown skink (Scincella lateralis) - ck Eastern fence lizard (Sceloporus undulatus) - ck Plains blind snake/threadsnake (Rena dulcis dulcis) - ck Texas rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus) - ck Eastern coachwhip (Coluber flagellum flagellum) - ck Glossy snake (Arizona elegans) - ck Western ribbon snake (Thamnophis proximus) - ck Yellow-bellied water snake (Nerodia erythrogaster flavigaster) - ck Diamond-backed water snake (Nerodia rhombifer rhombifer) - ck Rough green snake (Opheodrys aestivus) - ck Broad-banded copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix laticinctus) - ck Western cottonmouth (Agkistrodon piscivorus leucostoma) - ck
Texas diamondback terrapin - Photo: Matthew Abernathy
Gulf Coast American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) - sl Texas diamond-backed terrapin (Malaclemys terrapin littoralis) - ma Red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) - sl Green anole (Anolis carolinensis) - sl Eastern fence lizard (Sceloporus undulatus) - sl Little brown skink (Scincella lateralis) - sl Prairie kingsnake (Lampropeltis calligaster calligaster) - sl Yellow-bellied water snake (Nerodia erythrogaster flavigaster) - sl
Trans Pecos Gray-banded kingsnake (Lampropeltis alterna) - stn
Right: gray-banded kingsnake about to pounce on a crevice spiny lizard - photo: Stuart Tennyson Above: another gray-banded kingsnake
— page 15 —
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Seen in the Field - April-June 2012 (continued) South Texas Plains Western coachwhip (Coluber flagellum testaceus) - ck Bullsnake (Pituophis catenifer sayi) - ck Texas spiny lizard (Sceloporus olivaceus) - ck Mediterranean gecko (Hemidactylus turcicus) - ck Green anole (Anolis carolinensis) - ck Texas spotted whiptail (Aspidoscelis gularis) - ck Six-lined racerunner (Aspidoscelis sexlineatus) - ck Rio Grande cooter (Pseudemys gorzugi) - ck Texas spiny softshell (Apalone spinifera emoryi) - ck American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) - ck Gulf Coast toad (Incilius nebulifer) - ck
Edwards Plateau Texas greater earless lizard (Cophosaurus texanus) - rp Central texas whip snake (Coluber taeniatus girardi) - tm Blotched water snake (Nerodia erythrogaster transversa) - tm Texas rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus) - tm Western coachwhip (Coluber flagellum testaceus) - tm Texas patch-nosed snake (Salvadora grahamiae lineata) - tm Red-striped ribbon snake (Thamnophis proximus rubrilineatus) - tm Western cottonmouth (Agkistrodon piscivorus leucostoma) - tm Eastern hog-nosed snake (Heterodon platirhinos) - tm
Texas greater earless lizard - photo: Ruthann Panipinto
Ÿ Are you interested in herps as wildlife? Ÿ Want to share (or keep up with) conservation news?
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Texas Herp Naturalists For discussion of the natural history and conservation of Texas reptiles & amphibians and other plant and animal species that are the ecological context in which herps live. Come tell us about your latest trip, your favorite place, or your biggest conservation concerns.
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— page 16 —
Texas Field Notes
Volume 6, Issue 3
A Gallery of Amazing Invertebrates Photos and notes by Clint King
Dynastes tityus (eastern hercules beetle) - male
Plinthocoelium suaveoloens (metallic green bumelia borer) male
Mantispa sayi (Mantidfly)
Lichen orbweaver (genus Araneidae) female
Pipevine swallowtail larvae (Battus philenor)
Green lynx spider (Peucutia viridans) female — page 17 —
Texas Field Notes
July, 2012
Subscribe to Texas Field Notes - for Free Texas Field Notes is a quarterly publication, with stories about wildlife, conservation news, and color photos, all focused on Texas reptiles, amphibians, and other wildlife. It can be emailed to you, free, if you subscribe. We ask that you consider supporting us with any donation that seems appropriate to you, to help us keep getting out there to gather experiences and photos. If you choose to send a donation, you could do so by going to the PayPal website, https://www.paypal.com/, and sending the donation to michael@texasherp.org. Any donation is optional, but will be greatly appreciated! Whether or not you donate, you can get Texas Field Notes. Go to http://texasherp.org and enter your information there. Your information is safe with us—we will never sell our mailing list to anyone. (At present, we are not able to mail Texas Field Notes as a print publication.)
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