FL1204p1

FLORIDA & GEORGIA

December 2004

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Although I grew up in south Florida, tromping through the Everglades and Big Cypress Swamp, I spent little time herping other areas of my home state during those formative snake-hunting years. Thanks to an invitation from Bill Love of Blue Chameleon Ventures (author, educator, professional herp photographer, Madagascar herp tour leader, and all around good guy) I had an opportunity to explore new territory during my annual family vacation to Florida.

North of Lake Okeechobee are the land-locked remnants of prehistoric islands, now a series of sand hills covered by scrub forest known as the Lake Wales Ridge. Because of its isolated past, some of the native plants and animals evolved into unique species found nowhere else on earth. (To learn more about this fascinating ecosystem, see Florida’s Ancient Islands.) One of those endemics is the Sand Skink, Neoseps reynoldsi, which I had never even heard of, much less seen, but Bill felt sure he could show me at least one. Happily, he was right.

My brother Ron and I met Bill at his home west of Fort Meyers, a perfect herper’s hideout deep within a hardwood hammock. Before leaving we were treated to a tour of the breeding facility where his wife, Kathy the Cornsnake Queen, raises her outrageously beautiful snakes for CornUtopia. Then it was off to hunt the mighty Sand Skink.

As we drove north towards the Ridge, flat open fields and crowded pinelands gradually gave way to gentle hills sparsely covered by scrub oak and palmetto. Bill guided us to a likely spot and we began our search.

Ron spots a lizard, but it’s not a Neoseps. Instead it’s a different endemic of the Lake Wales Ridge, the Blue-tailed Mole Skink (which sometimes, just to be contrary, sports an all-orange tail).

Blue-tailed Mole Skink

Eumeces egregius lividus

Scratching at the leaves and sand, Bill explains that Neoseps hide just below the surface where they feed on bugs living in the leaf litter. As he gently rakes away, Ron and I watch, searching for any sign of lizard. Of course, in my mind, I’m expecting to see something that looks like an ordinary, brownish skink.

Suddenly a flash of silver wriggles in the wake of uncovered leaves. My mind is confused. Was that bait? Sure looked like a fish, scales shimmering as it breaks the surface. It’s really remarkable. I mean, think about it: How often do you see a silver reptile?

But shiny scales aren’t the only fish-like things about this lizard. The tiny front feet with a single digit have been reduced to pectoral “fins”, and the rear legs fold back into a lateral groove, allowing the skink to “swim” through the sand.

Sand Skink

Neoseps reynoldsi

We make our way through the sandhills, occasionally passing Gopher Tortoise burrows. We stop at one, pull out a mirror, and shine the hole to see if anyone’s at home. Sure enough, there’s the resident reptile staring back, no doubt wondering what the sun is suddenly doing down in its tunnel.

Bill Love flashing

Gopher Tortoise

Gopherus polyphemus

Tortoise burrows in the Lake Wales Ridge are also home to an unusual subterranean amphibian, the Florida Gopher Frog. Besides living underground in sandy burrows, another cool thing about these frogs is their call, which resembles really loud snoring.