The earth creepers

Reptiles and amphibians

The herptiles, as they are sometimes known, are a group of animals that have a hard time in the world of classification. Although both groups are cold-blooded – more accurately poikilothermic, which means that their body temperature varies according to the temperature around them – reptiles and amphibians are not closely related.

The only obvious thing amphibians and reptiles have in common is that they nearly all (and even this is a generalisation) have a secretive and skulking habit. Even the word herptile, derived from the Greek for ‘creeping thing’, seems to back up our centuries-old loathing of creepy creatures. But combining the study of reptiles and amphibians under the heading of herpetology is quite handy, as many of the techniques used can be applied to both.

A highly specialist snake, the Peringuey’s Viper of the Namib Desert puts its simple body design to good use. Minimising contact with the hot shifting sand surface, it moves by side-winding or when the heat is on buries itself in the sand.

What’s the difference?

The 9,850-odd species of reptiles and amphibians that crawl, slide, slither and hop over our planet’s surface can be broken down into a number of smaller, more easily digestible groups. There are three orders of amphibian, numbering 4,550 or so species (see below). What makes these animals collectively amphibians is not easy to define and there are many exceptions to the rule, but most have moist, thin, non-scaly skin and a life cycle that at some point depends on water. The majority lay eggs which hatch into larvae that breathe through gills; as they metamorphose into adults, the larvae develop lungs – a neat trick that would be a useful way of defining them if it wasn’t for the fact that some salamanders never actually ‘grow up’ and develop lungs. But, as a rule of thumb, if it hasn’t got scales, but has four legs, a backbone and no fur, it’s an amphibian.

There are about 6,000 species of reptiles and it is thought that they originated from an amphibian ancestor some 350 million years ago. The vast majority (5,700 species) are snakes, lizards and the worm-like lizards known as amphisbaenians; then there are the tortoises and turtles, the crocodilians, and two species of the lizard-like tuatara, found only in New Zealand. The main difference between reptiles and amphibians is that most reptiles are much less dependent on water. They have also evolved thicker, scaly, impermeable skin that helps them to conquer drier habitats, and either lay hard-shelled eggs or retain their eggs within the body, so are not tied to water for breeding.

Orders of Amphibians:

Orders of Reptiles:

The right handful

handling reptiles and amphibians

The golden rule is not to handle any animal unnecessarily, as you learn so much more if it is undisturbed, and in the case of herptiles, the word ‘handling’ implies any form of physical contact. However, there are times when it is essential if you are to identify an animal or catch it as part of a study. In these circumstances it is important to minimise the amount of discomfort and stress your subject suffers and, in the case of dangerous or venomous herptiles, to handle it as safely as possible.

Frogs are famous for their squirminess and slipperiness, and even a little one can be a real handful. Nets are ideal but still allow the frog to wriggle about or even jump out, making it difficult to establish specific details such as sex or identity. To keep hold of a frog – once you have finally got hold of one – cup your hands around it and then manipulate it so that the head faces out towards the gap created between the forefinger and thumb of one hand. As soon as it sees light and tries to break free, allow it to push most of its body through before clamping down gently but firmly on its hind legs – these are most frogs’ ‘thrusters’, so if you can stop it kicking and at the same time support the front part of its body, you have it secure.

Frogs are slippery, slimy and strong. To hold on to them safely for inspection first make sure your hands are clean of soaps and insect repellent. Firmly but gently make a ring around the frog’s waist with forefinger and thumb, gripping the legs with your closed palm.

Avoid dehydration

If you need to hold on to your specimen for more than a few minutes – and many species do take a while to identify, especially when you are working in the frog-diverse tropics – there is a risk that it may start to dehydrate from the warmth of your hands. So thoughtful herpetologists carry small, clear, freezer or zip-loc bags. Once your frog is inside the bag, you can view its features clearly and easily without either distressing it too much or inadvertently releasing it.

Toxic overload

You may think that amphibians are benign compared to famously dangerous herptiles such as snakes, but they have some surprising talents, especially when they perceive you as a life-threatening predator, and it is worth being aware of these.

Many species of toad and some frogs have noxious chemicals in glands in their skin; these are primarily designed to make them distasteful to a predator, although it has been suggested that the toxins also kill off bacteria and fungi that would presumably thrive in damp, warm conditions favoured by these animals. If ingested, some of these chemicals are very toxic to humans. So, as with all animals, wear gloves or wash your hands thoroughly after handling and do not rub your eyes, nose or mouth with your fingers. Take this warning seriously, as the secretions (bufotoxins) of some species, particularly the Cane Toad (Bufo marinus), have been known to kill humans. I have certainly heard stories from reliable sources of dogs and cats dying after just mouthing one of these animals.

Each bump on a toad’s body is a poison gland. In bufonid toads, like this Cane Toad, they also have a huge parotid gland behind the eye which can eject a toxic fluid.

When stressed, the Cane Toad and other species can eject a toxic creamy white spray from the parotid glands on either side of the head behind the eyes. This can travel for up to a metre (over 3 ft) and once in the eyes, nose or mouth causes a severe burning similar to the sensation of eating raw hot chillies. I speak from experience on this one, as I was once retrieving my pet cane toad from a cosy little spot it had found beneath the television. It treated me as a predator, got me in the eyes – and there was no more watching TV that night!

I also have first-hand information which suggests that prolonged handling of some of the Poison-dart Frogs (Dendrobates pumilio) from South and Central America, even those species formerly thought of as fairly benign, can lead to some of the skin’s toxic alkaloids being absorbed and causing nausea. In some species 0.00001g of these substances can kill a man, making the defences of these amphibians among the most potent in the world.

Some of the large ambush specialists, such as African bull frogs of the genus Pyxicephalus and the horned frogs (Ceratophrys spp.) of South America, have a nasty nip on them, and the fang-like protrusions in the roof of the mouth can make their bites particularly painful. A little horned frog that I once captured bit on to the end of my finger and wouldn’t release its grip – it even started swallowing and making its way up toward my knuckles, despite being only the size of a ping-pong ball!

The Red-backed or Reticulated Poison Frog (Dendrobates reticulatus) from Peru.

Vivariums

studying and keeping reptiles and amphibians

Because of their small size and secretive nature, much of what is witnessed of the lives of reptiles and amphibians in the wild comes down to chance. Although you can substantially increase your luck by understanding your subjects’ habits and being in the right place at the right time, making useful observations of anything from egg laying to mating displays is very hard in the field. The herpetologist can genuinely add to the world’s knowledge by keeping and observing herptiles in captivity, and because of advances in science and a growing awareness of the problems facing these previously unloved denizens of our planet, this is an exciting and burgeoning discipline.

Much of what we know of these animals has been uncovered by herpetologists. Brood care in the Spine-headed Tree Frog (Anotheca spinosa) was systematically worked out in captivity, as was the fact that certain caecilians were loyal to the same tunnel system for long periods of time and not randomly pushing through the soil and leaf litter like earthworms. The most famous ‘birth’ in the amphibian world, that of baby frogs bursting out of the back of a female Surinam Toad (Pipa pipa), was first observed in an aquarium.

The female Surinam Toad carries her developing young beneath the skin on her back.

All these observations can be applied to the wild, helping us to piece together an understanding of herptile ecology and making us better able to preserve these animals in the future. The other positive is that keeping and studying herptiles promotes an appreciation of a group of animals who, at the end of the day, need as many friends as they can get!

The very mention of the word captivity lets a lot of snakes out of the box, so to speak. It raises issues as to whether an amateur naturalist should keep wild animals at all, and brings to the fore concerns about the large international trade in herptiles for the pet industry, some of which involves very questionable practices. This is an area peppered with issues that are too complicated to have a place in this book. I will confine myself to giving some basic background information intended to start you off in the right direction. More specific information is available from books and websites dedicated to herpetoculture (see Further Reading).

The basic piece of kit is called a vivarium – a broad term for any container or enclosure in which animals are kept for study. If you’re keeping amphibians in a vivarium, it is essential that both your hands and the vivarium and its furniture are thoroughly sterilised and cleaned both before and after the release of your study subjects. Of course, the most important consideration when keeping any animal in captivity is what it requires to keep it healthy and happy. This is especially true of reptiles and amphibians, as they are highly sensitive to subtle environmental factors, so do your homework and prepare carefully.

Ultimately for an amateur naturalist, it’s always best to observe various species under natural conditions in the wild. However, sometimes it might be necessary to keep some animals for a short time in captivity to study. If this is the case it’s very important to be aware that some species in some countries are fully protected by law – such as Sand Lizards and Great Crested Newt in the UK – with this in mind where ever you are in the world, it’s worth doing you homework and research first, if in doubt contact a local conservation organisation for help and guidance.

If any animal is taken into captivity – this especially applies to aquatic organisms – it’s important that, they are kept for the minimal amount of time possible to allow your study and then put back exactly where you found them to minimise the spread of diseases, such as Ranavirus and Chytrid fungus, which are responsible for huge losses in wild amphibian populations. This applies as much to spawn and tadpoles as it does to adult amphibians.

The basic piece of kit is called a vivarium – a broad term for any container or enclosure in which animals are kept for study.

Frogging by night

The best time to see amphibians and reptiles in the wild depends, as with all creatures, on your position on the planet, the season and the weather conditions. But there are a few general tips to a happy herping trip.

My best herping moments have always been at night, from the place where it all started for me – watching Common Smooth Newts (Triturus vulgaris) doing their extraordinary aquatic courtship dance in my grandparents’ pond and observing the incredible exodus of hundreds of tiny toadlets from the same pond – to the later experiences of finding the monstrous Goliath Frog (Conraua goliath) in equatorial Africa and Red-eyed Tree Frogs (Agalychnis callidryas) making their foam nests in the branches above a pool in Costa Rica.

The Red-eyed Tree Frog is nocturnal. During the day it sits on a green leaf, eyes shut and feet tucked in, blending with the vegetation.

The smooth, wet-skinned amphibians lose moisture readily, so it makes sense for them to be active primarily in the cool of the night. During daylight hours many hide under debris or in holes or, in the case of some tree frogs, attempt stunningly effective impressions of seemingly uninteresting foliage or bark. This means that your best bet is to go looking when they have relaxed a little and blow their own cover by going out foraging or searching for a mate (more about this later). I find head torches handy for this – they leave your hands free for scrambling and for using other tools and books. In the tropics, where many species are a long way above you in the foliage, I cannot recommend highly enough a halogen head torch. For me the extra range and brighter light far outweigh the disadvantages of having to replace batteries more frequently (I always use rechargeables and take spares with me just in case I end up being out all night).

One of the reasons torches work so well is that much of these creatures’ camouflage depends on light sources coming from the predictable direction of above; at night a torch beam catches them on the hop, so to speak. Also, many frogs and toads have a layer of reflective cells called a tapetum behind their retinas, so when their eyes catch your torchlight they reflect it back at you. This is especially effective when the torch is at the same level as your eyes, and reveals the position of many nocturnal animals, from spiders to elephants!

Third, and this is probably the most important reason, a torch beam focuses your attention. Being visually led primates, we are easily distracted during the day. At night our sense of sight is concentrated on the little pool of artificial light just in front of us.

If only they were all this big. A man in Equatorial Guinea gets to grips with the biggest frog in the world – the aptly named Goliath Frog, which has been reported to get to over 3kg (7lb) in weight and measure 32cm (13in) from nose to vent!

Cracking the croak: the art of triangulation

My frustration at the lack of nocturnal frogging skills I displayed in the Venezuelan llanos will be etched on my mind forever, as will the simple solution. It was the second night I had spent up to my waist in murky, tepid water trying to find what sounded like a herd of chihuahua-sized frogs. I could not imagine how these animals could be so hard to locate when they were quacking and barking in the vegetation all around me, and by the sound of it, there were at least 50 of them scoffing at me. What made it worse was that, as I slowly waded in what I thought was the direction of my quarry, the little perishers would stop, only to start up somewhere else!

I had, it turned out in discussion the next day with a local herpetologist, made both an incorrect assumption and a foolish oversight. Firstly, just because a frog makes a big noise doesn’t mean its body is proportionally large; and secondly, frogs are master ventriloquists. This makes sense if you are a male frog, as your calls advertise your presence not only to the females but also to potential predators (though how the females find the males is a mystery I haven’t yet cracked).

Fortunately, my friendly herpetologist suggested I make herping after dark a social thing. Not only is it a good idea to have someone with you when you are wading around in piranha- and crocodile-populated swamps after dark, but there is also a literally ‘sound’ scientific reason for doing so. So that night there were two of us up to our thighs in the wettest swamp South America had to offer, and when the first frog croaked, I was introduced to the principle of triangulation. When you hear a call, both of you point in the direction you think it came from, then slowly move towards the spot where your bearings would cross if you were to draw a line. You keep moving closer, repeating the exercise every time your frog burps. It is a beautifully simple but effective way of working. By the way, the frog in question was only about 2cm (less than an inch) long and, other than the moment when its throat swelled up like a barrage balloon to utter its disproportionately loud bark, it did a perfect impression of a brown reed!

More often heard than seen, finding a singing frog is often harder than it might at first seem. It’s worth persevering with in order to witness some fascinating behaviour.

Jelly babies

amphibian mating

The water bounces the blazing early morning March sky back at me; things are different in this weedy ditch this morning. The water seems to defy gravity and bulge upwards in the middle, with an odd lumpy texture. Every few seconds the whole reflection wobbles and shivers as something moves in the rushes at the edge, and straining my ears I can just about make out a bizarre purring noise, like a tiny electrical generator. The frogs are back.

Many years ago my 12-year-old heart would have jumped into my mouth on witnessing this scene, and I would have sprinted home to find a leaky bucket to pillage some spawn for a tank, the pond or even a bit of playground bartering. Nowadays not much has changed. I still feel that tingle of spring, but I know better than to interfere. My focus is held not so much by the inanimate spawn as by the activities of the frogs producing it.

Common Frogs (Rana temporaria) are the earliest of British amphibians to emerge from hibernation, occasionally breeding as early as January in the warmer southwest of England. Some spend the winter in the mud or debris at the bottom of the pond in which they will mate, taking in oxygen from the water through their skin, but most hibernate on land and, like all amphibians, head back to their breeding grounds as soon as they wake up. Being in situ when the females return may improve the males’ chances of mating with them, but this is a risky strategy in a shallow pond, when they may be frozen solid if the winter is a harsh one.

A frenetic frenzy of fornication: many species, such as these Common Frogs, spawn en masse.

This stage of the Frog’s mating ritual is an unobtrusive one, mostly carried out under cover of darkness. If you stroll outside on a warm, wet night you are likely to spot Frogs around and in the pond, but not doing much more than bobbing about. Then at some unexplained but presumably hormonally triggered cue, the pond will erupt with Frogs splashing around in a frenzy of sexual activity. Mating will carry on 24 hours a day for the next one to five days, and in full swing is truly spectacular. Very little will distract a mating Frog from its purpose – even if one does notice your approach and either freeze or disappear below the surface for a moment, its surging hormones will soon convince it that you are no threat and it will carry on where it left off.

Even though you will probably be totally enthralled by watching this froggy orgy, you can still practise honing your naturalist’s powers of observation.

Grab a partner

It looks like the male Common Frog has a full nelson wrestling move on his mate, but this is a grip known as amplexus and many male frogs use it to hang on to their chosen ‘love’ and stake their claim to breeding rights.

The mating hug, or amplexus, involves the male frog climbing aboard the female and hanging on with his front limbs. Rough, black swellings on his thumbs, known as nuptial pads, help him to grip. You can tell a male from a female because he is generally darker and smaller, with a bluish throat, while in some populations, the female is reddish. Once the female is ready to spawn (usually at night), the male will shed sperm on the eggs as soon as they leave her body.

Sometimes, when there are more males than females in the pond, you will see piles of males desperately trying to clutch on to a female but in fact clinging on to each other. In extreme cases, their frenzy may be such that they smother the female and she drowns. Even if a male manages to ‘catch’ a female, there is no guarantee that he will be able to mate – there will always be larger rivals eager to displace him.

The jelly that you see in ponds and ditches in the spring isn’t all frog spawn. Common Toads (Bufo bufo) and our three native species of newt can be found breeding at the same time. Toads are fussier than Frogs, requiring deep water, and in any particular location generally emerge from hibernation up to a couple of weeks later. Because of this they breed in fewer ponds (one toad pond to every five used by Frogs). The mating activity of all the males in a colony tends to be triggered off at once, and their migrations are often large and visual affairs. Probably the best way to witness them is to contact your local Wildlife Trust and offer your services to their nocturnal Toad road-crossing scheme, designed to protect the sex-crazed animals from throwing themselves under the wheels of a passing vehicle in their desperation to get to their mating grounds.

Many frogs spawn en masse, here a pair embrace the wrong way around! As they struggle to get into position so the male can fertilise the eggs as the female lays them.

Newts

Investigate a weedy pond in Europe at night, and by the light of your torch you may find any one of a variety of species of newt, Smooth (Triturus vulgaris), Palmate (T. helveticus) and the rare Great Crested (T. cristatus) among them. They return to water in the warm months of spring and, like their more vocal and better known relatives the frogs, they are there to mate and spawn.

What newts lack in noise, they make up for in poise, posture and colour. The males in particular are splendidly bedecked with membranous scalloped crests running the length of their body. With the coming of spring they turn up both the contrast and the colour; the flanks of all species become a rich collage of orange, blue, white and black. If you are lucky, you may witness a newt’s courtship ritual in shallow water as the male fans his tail around the female’s face, flamenco-style, and literally leads her on a merry dance. His choreography has to be precise as he deposits a capsule of sperm and directs her into position to pick it up.

Newts turn up the colour and the contrast for their mating season. This male Alpine Newt is trying to impress a female with his finery and even a little dance.

Newt eggs are laid individually, often wrapped in the folds of a pond weed leaf, like this Italian Crested Newt egg.

Frog farm

growing your own

Watching an amorphous blob of proteinous jelly filled with black dots turn slowly from a collection of dividing cells through animated, wriggling shreds of life to free-swimming larvae and finally four-legged frogs is one of those user-friendly miracles that can occur right before your eyes given just a few square feet of space. But although there is barely a school nature table or a ten-year-old that isn’t trying to witness this miracle, many of these well-meaning attempts fail. At certain stages in the life cycle some of the tadpoles fade and die for no apparent reason.

These eggs of the Red-eyed Leaf Frog are on the underside of a leaf overhanging water, safe from many predators. Soon they will wriggle free and drop with a plop into the pond.

Well, having once been a frog-fanatical schoolboy myself, with many a failed froglet to my name, I have, via a process of trial, error and speaking to others with a similar interest, come up with the magic formula. Follow the steps below for a frog-friendly, foul-up-free and fascinating educational experience. This advice is based on the Common European Frog and the Common Toad, which make up the bulk of my personal experience, but the principles apply equally well to other species of Bufo and Rana found all over the world.

Choose a 9–10 litre (approx. 2 gallon) plastic tank with a vented lid (those manufactured by Hagen are excellent and very suitable for young and/or clumsy people). This a good size, neither too big nor too small and easy to move even when full of water.

If possible, use rainwater collected from a water butt. Failing this, any natural water from a pond or stream will do. If you have to use tap water, let it stand for a couple of days to allow the chlorine used to sterilise our drinking water to dissipate naturally. Many aquarium/pet stores sell dechlorinating water treatments, but check first whether these are suitable for amphibians.

Before collecting your spawn, have your tank set up and stabilised (see here for setting up an aquarium), with a substrate of pre-washed gravel. Add a selection of pond weed to help oxygenate the water and stabilise its pH (acid/alkaline balance). The leaves will also soon become a meadow of microscopic algae plants – useful fodder for tadpoles. Try to use native weeds but, if you are collecting from the wild, screen the weed for ‘predators’ before introducing it to your tank – small specimens of predatory beetle larvae and dragonfly nymphs will soon become big, and with increased size comes a ferocious appetite for your tadpoles. A Great Diving Beetle larva (Dytiscus latissimus) will put away as many as ten tadpoles each day!

One more tadpole down. The reason for so many eggs being laid is that many species find themselves on the menu. Here a Great Diving Beetle larva makes short work of a Common Frog tadpole.

Resist the temptation to collect lots of spawn or tadpoles. Although you often come across huge quantities in the wild, only a few per cent of it will survive. So collect a small quantity of newly laid spawn – it should be quite firm and easy to separate with your finger. Half a cupful is an ideal quantity to achieve a ratio of three to five tadpoles for every litre of water (14–22 per gallon). Remember that the more tadpoles you have, the more work you will have to do. There will be more feeding, and more cleaning out to keep the water fresh, and if you have too many in too small a space they may slow down development and even turn cannibalistic. In nature, larger tadpoles in crowded conditions produce growth inhibitors in their droppings which, when eaten by other tadpoles, stunt their growth, a common cause of failure in rearing tadpoles in captivity.

Take spawn from garden ponds wherever possible – it keeps your impact and disturbance of wild populations to a minimum. It is also good practice not to risk contaminating a habitat by introducing spawn, pond weed or any other form of life that you have collected elsewhere. This is common-sense herpetological hygiene. Frogs in particular suffer from contagious diseases that may be spread unnecessarily in this way.

Collect your spawn with some pond water in a bag. To avoid temperature shock (remember those little black dots are living!), gently acclimatise your catch by suspending the bag at the surface for a couple of hours and gently mixing the warmer water of the tank with that in the bag, before finally tipping the spawn in.

Pond dippers at work.

Tank and tadpole management through the life stages

1. Freshly laid frog spawn.

2. For the first few days of their lives the tadpoles hardly move; they spend most of their time hanging from the sides and vegetation. They are not yet actively eating – they have no mouths – but are ‘feeding’ themselves by absorbing their yolk sacs. Do not disturb them.

3. The embryos hatch and become tadpoles. They will be content micro-grazing algae off the sides of the tank and any vegetation provided.

4. Once the tadpoles have started swimming around, change about half the water by tipping it out, using a net or sieve to catch any tadpoles that stray – they can simply be popped back in the tank. Replace the water with fresh, non-chlorinated water. Do this every week or so to keep a healthy-looking tank. If the water gets cloudy, change it more frequently. Remember not to subject the tadpoles to sudden temperature changes – keep the replacement water in the same room as the tank for a day to allow it to equilibrate. As well as providing a healthy environment for your tadpoles, you will promote strong and fast growth.

5. The head and tail are now more distinctive and the tadpoles begin to grow internal gill chambers for absorbing oxygen. The external feathery gills disappear.

6. After about three weeks they start needing more substantial salad. Every few days, give them a couple of the dry pellets usually intended for herbivorous pets such as rabbits. Observe how much they eat and try not to overfeed – otherwise you will have to increase the frequency of water changes or add other herbivores such as a few pond snails to do some cleaning for you. Introduce variety to your tadpoles' diet by boiling some lettuce for five minutes and suspending it a leaf at a time from the surface.

7. As the tadpoles grow, up their food allowance. Once the rear legs start to develop, they enter their carnivorous phase and suddenly develop voracious appetites. Feed them with flaked fish foods and small pond creatures such as bloodworms and Daphnia, also called water fleas.

8. As they start to develop front legs, your tadpoles' mouths and tongues grow and they will develop eyelids too.

9. As their tails begin to shrink, you need to reduce their food intake. They need a supply of very small hatchling crickets, aphids and other tiny terrestrial insects. At this time, you should also reduce the water level in the tank to just a few centimetres (about 2 inches) and provide plenty of haul-out space such as clean sponges, moss or stones.

10. Congratulations, you have froglets! Release them in the same pond (to avoid spreading disease) from which you collected the spawn. Do this after dark and in long vegetation, not back into the water.

Tails and scales

for the love of lizards

Lizards are fast. Well, that’s the general rule – once warm and charged up by the sun, they become invincible, solar-powered rockets. This makes studying them quite difficult, and if you go for the desirable and uninvasive option of simply watching them, the only equipment that is going to be any use is a pair of close-focusing binoculars: the more distance you can put between yourself and your highly strung subject, the more likely it is that your presence will remain undetected and you will see natural behaviour rather than evasive action!

As a general rule, the bigger the lizard, the bigger its brain, confidence and ability to override natural caution when faced with humans in the wild. How tame and tolerant it is depends on such factors as whether or not it is hunted, persecuted or regularly fed or exposed to people. I have spent days trying to watch and get a good photograph of Water Monitor Lizards (Varanus salvator) in a national park in Borneo, where they were as elusive and wary as you might expect a big cat to be, never giving up much more than a length of tail or a blinking, suspicious eye. But at a resort just around the peninsula, the same species was being fed on buckets of kitchen scraps tipped into the Malaysian equivalent of a duck pond. The place was crawling with humungous, hand-tame lizards lolling about in the open. Some were even making bold approaches, too close for comfort in some cases – one of them lunged at my flip-flopped feet!

Female Sand Lizard sunbathing on a rock.

Solar energy

An essential sunbath. It’s how reptiles get up to speed.

The best time to watch reptiles of any kind is when they are likely to be cold and trying to absorb solar energy. First thing in the morning is perfect, especially if the air temperature is relatively cool, the skies are clear and the sun’s heat is just beginning to warm the ground. In some cases, this is the only time during the day that these animals will be out in the open away from cover.

Turn rustles into reptiles

Smaller lizard species are often overlooked simply because they are small. While the world is aware of the giant crocs and the monitor lizards, the really cool flying lizard (Draco spp.) or basilisk (Basiliscus spp.) is sitting close by, just as wild and beautiful but unnoticed. In fact many of the smaller reptiles catch your eye only when they skip off at your approach. If your senses are alert as you walk along a heathland path or a rainforest trail, you may well become aware of a rustle in the leaf litter a step or two ahead. Rather than ignoring it and striding on, it often pays to stop, make yourself comfortable and wait. Defocus your eyes, look in the direction of the noise and more often than not the perpetrator of the rustle – a lizard or even a small snake – will make a cautious return to its basking spot at the edge of the path, where if you remain stock still, you will be able to observe unnoticed.

Flying dragon, its ribcage providing struts for its ‘gliding’ wings.

Lasso me a lizard!

Whereas I really must stress that as with any living animal direct physical contact should be avoided unless strictly necessary, in some situations it is, however, a very handy way of obtaining information unavailable any other way. Just recently I was exploring among the aromatic creosote bushes and the rocky crevices of a gulley in the Sonoran Desert, in Arizona. This place is a herpetologist’s dream; everywhere you look the place has a heartbeat, despite the seemingly impossible heat.

Now, stumble across a Rattlesnake or a Gila Monster and it is relatively easy to identify – as readily identifiable to the herpetologist as an Ostrich or a Kiwi would be to a birdwatcher – but the challenge comes with the reptile equivalent of the ornithologist’s Little Brown Job or LBJ. All about small lizards skipped and scuttled between the boulders; with a little practice you could identify and separate different families but with some species, according to my field guide, I had to see the ridges running down their back, count their scales or even observe directly the colour of their belly scales! Tasks that are next to impossible with the use of eyes even with the aid of nice close-focus binoculars. For these you have to embrace another technique, known as noosing.

Many lizards (and some snakes) engage in a somewhat distressing, self-mutilating survival strategy known as autotomy. When attacked, the lizard ‘throws’ its own tail, which will writhe in a rather gruesome way for some minutes, holding the predator’s gaze long enough for the tail’s former owner to slink off under cover and live to grow another. A lizard with a blunt, shiny-ended tail or different colours to portions of it has probably survived such an encounter. The reason for the different appearance is that when the tail regrows the bones inside do not, so once a tail has been lost once it cannot be shed again. When you are working with nervous lizards, autotomy can happen almost instantly with little provocation, but it is more likely to be avoided if you minimise stress to the animal, handle it as gently as possible and do not grasp the tail directly.

~ THE USE OF A NOOSE ~

The idea is simple – catching a lizard, but it is easy to spook a lizard with your shadow or by getting your noose snagged. A word of caution though: only use a noose on lizards (not on snakes or legless lizards) and only when you really need to. Some reptiles are fully protected by law, such as Sand Lizards and Great Crested Newts in the UK, so it is important to check the latest regulations before embarking upon such an activity.

To make a lizard lasso you will need:

The top end of an old fishing pole, or a hollow rod. You can get telescopic travel fishing poles which are quite useful too; and some kind of cord – nylon fishing line is fine but I prefer dental floss (and no it doesn’t matter what flavour!); it is heavy enough not to blow around to much and holds its shape, which is handy when trying to slip it over the head of a lizard.

1 First you’ll need to construct your noosing pole.

2 If necessary, you can distract your subject by attaching a tissue or rag to the end of another stick and ‘twitching’ it nearby. This should hold the lizard’s attention long enough for you to position and tighten your noose.

3 Slip the noose over the lizard’s head, carefully avoiding all the pitfalls mentioned above.

4 Once you’ve got the noose over the lizard’s head, with a gentle tug on the loop at the base of your stick, close the noose around the lizards head; you need to be quick. Hold the cord tight while you transfer the lizard to a bag, hand (watch out they’ll bite) or container and then let the cord go and the lizard will wiggle its own way out. When you’ve studied it all you need, release it back where you found it.

When alarmed or grasped by a predator or clumsy naturalist the tail of some species, in this case a Viviparous or Common Lizard, will come off and keep wriggling, a disturbing but effective survival strategy.

Tickling lizards: getting them down

This capture technique works particularly well with small tree-living lizards, especially those tricky, colour-changing, lightning-reflexed geckos that frequent hotel rooms throughout the tropics. It is also a handy little trick for performing the service that is often required of a naturalist – removing the said geckos from the apartments of less tolerant people! Often the act itself takes so long that you have plenty of time to persuade the occupants that leaving the animal in position will be better for all concerned. You can catch your lizard in a butterfly net, or similar.

Tickling requires nothing more than a long, thin piece of wire or even a length of robust grass or palm leaf and a small ball of kapok or cotton wool. Twizzle and tease the wool fibre around the tip of the ‘tickling stick’ so that it is firmly attached; then wiggle this conspicuous bit of fluff on the ceiling, trunk or wall your gecko is frequenting. Try to exploit natural cover, using corners and other obstacles to your advantage.

The skill in this bizarre puppet show is to make the fluff look like an insect target. You will find that your gecko’s greed is much greater than any fears or doubts it may have. More often than not it will grasp the bait in its mouth and get its teeth temporarily tangled, so you can, if you are quick, bring it down or flick it into a hand net.

You can apply the same principle by tying a small insect such as a mealworm or even a recently dead fly to some thin fishing line. The lizards can literally be fished for – a great alternative to noosing!

Many species of lizard are adapted to live high in trees and on rock faces. Frustrating to get close to – but there are a few tricks that can be deployed to help.

Road Riding’

There are limited ways in which automobiles can be used in a positive way – as opposed to causing undue disturbance – when watching wildlife, so you may be surprised to learn that they can be very useful when looking for reptiles, and snakes in particular, at night. In hot countries where most animal activity takes place after dark, our asphalt runways become a focal point. Why is a good question, and I have heard many theories. Some say that snake food such as mice and other small mammals occurs in higher concentrations here, perhaps because better marginal vegetation or edible scraps thrown out of cars attract it; others say the heat radiated back from the black surface of the highway raises a reptile’s body temperature and therefore hunting ability. Whatever the reason, any self-respecting snake enthusiast should try road riding!

The best approach is to find a few quiet back roads that go through good habitat. Drive slowly along them a couple of hours after dusk, using the light of the headlamps to watch for animals at the side of the road or on the road itself. Keep a head torch on your brow and your handling tools (see here) at the ready, because you do not know what is literally around the next corner.

Obviously if the roads you have chosen are public highways, you are going to have to make some compromises. Just because you have seen a coral snake on the verge and jammed on your anchors, do not assume the car behind you will do the same!

A safe alternative and something I have done in Tucson, Arizona, is to befriend the local golf-course owner and persuade him to let you borrow a golf cart. The roads on golf courses are fantastic places to pick up nocturnal animals, as by nature they contain or adjoin semi-wild habitat and are often a source of unseasonal water and productivity. Here you can safely and at your own speed go whizzing about to your heart’s content.

Roads and tracks are a good place to spot reptiles and amphibians at night. Partly they show up better in the open, but also some are attracted to the warmth radiating from the surface.

Golden rules

I have heard of some horrific near-death experiences caused by the sort of behaviour described above, so here are a few more golden rules:

Always be aware of other road users.

Give way to other cars.

Do not make sudden manoeuvres.

Always pull over in a safe place, avoid stopping on corners or bends and avoid busy times.

Use your blinkers when stopped.

Don’t point torches directly at other drivers.

Snakes that pack a punch

All snakes, from an angry cobra to a Grass Snake you have just hooked out of the pond, are capable of inflicting a bite that will at best be painful, and at worst can lead to agony and even death. I tend to treat all wild snakes in the same way – with oodles of respect and caution. A friend and experienced herpetologist who was bitten by his pet python had fragments of the snake’s teeth stuck in his hand for months afterwards and the wound was slow to heal due to infection. Even small, seemingly inoffensive species such as rat snakes (Elaphe spp.) could have been eating rodents that themselves were carrying a nasty disease. So the way you secure, hold and support a snake is pretty much the same whether it is venomous or non-venomous.

There is a worrying trend in the popular media to show and glamorise the activities of ‘reptile wrestlers’ and ‘fang fiends’. These people are certainly very knowledgeable and skilled at what they do – well, obviously; if they weren’t they’d be dead! If you are tempted to emulate these iconic figures, remember that you may be putting yourself, and more importantly the animals, at risk. Having said that, my stance is to give as much responsible information as possible and let people make up their own minds – after all, it was early exciting experiences with Adders and Grass Snakes that led to my life long fascination with snakes in general.

Indian Cobra (Naja naja). Carefully does it... never handle reptiles unless you are certain you know what you are doing! A mistake could be your last.

Notes on handling the small and the venomous

Nearly all snakebite-caused fatalities are the result of people trying to handle venomous snakes and underestimating the animal’s capabilities. No-one, whether amateur or professional herpetologist, should ever handle a venomous snake without the correct equipment– anyone who does needs their head testing. The best herpetologists are the ones who live longest and get to shout out loud to the world what fantastic animals herptiles are. To prolong your life expectancy, it is wise to follow some golden rules.

Never, ever touch a venomous snake. Even recently dead ones need to be treated with caution.

With large and strong species, be aware that the animal may try to loop its body around itself and form a slip knot which it will use to push your hand off its head. Pay attention and be ready to twist away before this becomes a problem.

Avoid complacency at all costs. Do not lose concentration or ease up your firm pressure, as however subdued a snake may seem it can suddenly spring into action and catch an unwary handler out.

For normal study there is no need to touch a snake’s body. You can purchase numerous tools from specialist dealers on the internet or simply manufacture them at home: these include all manner of hooks, grips and tongs and are designed to maximise the safety of both animal and handler. I really recommend using these, although they can be expensive.

Hooks and snake sticks

Hooks and snake sticks tend to be more gentle and sensitive if used correctly and are among the most useful and wonderfully simple tools a herpetologist can have. But in the hands of an excitable and inexperienced person they may grip the snake too tightly and cause internal damage, breaking ribs and damaging nerves. To reduce this risk, glue foam-rubber pads to the inside of the jaws of the tongs, or purchase one of the more expensive ‘gentle’ types. Whenever possible, grasp the snake halfway down the length of its body and never grab it behind the head or even support it like this for the briefest time, as you may kill it.

I recently spent some time with the Irula tribe in India who, for the purpose of venom extraction, handled kraits, cobras and saw-scaled vipers on a daily basis. These masters of snake work used nothing but their bare hands and an iron pole to dig the animals out of their holes. Working alongside them with all my specialised tongs and hooks made me feel a bit stupid, but having said that it is better to stick with what you are used to.

Hooks and sticks come in a variety of sizes from telescopic, pen-sized ones (which frankly are of limited use, but are handy for poking around in dark crevices if you are looking for scorpions and spiders to huge unwieldy poles that need two hands to operate them and are designed for use with large pythons and constrictors in captivity. Hooks with a longer ‘flat’ at 90 degrees to the handle are the most useful for pinning and tailing. If you are going to be lifting snakes up, you need a hook with a ‘neck’ that bends away from the main shaft at approximately a 45-degree angle.

A species not for the amateur; fortunately most venomous species are not quite so ‘in your face’. Even this spitting cobra would rather flee than face you.

Commercial snake sticks consist of a length of tempered steel with a golfing grip at the other end; and for the travelling naturalist collapsible telescopic ones are very useful. The type and size you need depends on what you are going to use it for and what species you are likely to encounter. The stick should be at least 30cm (12in) longer than the longest strike range of the snake you are dealing with (that is at least half the body length for most species, although some can launch themselves almost the entire length of their body, so as always expect the worse and be super cautious). Longer sticks can be awkward to manoeuvre, especially in the close confines of vegetation. Using two at the same time, like a kind of simplified Edward Scissorhands, is often the way round this problem, and with faster, non-venomous species a hook can also be used in conjunction with the ‘tailing’ technique shown below.

Lighter snakes such as this arboreal green viper can be lifted with one well-placed hook – just be careful it doesn’t climb up the handle – a good reason for using a good length one.

~ MAKING YOUR OWN SNAKE STICK ~

If you are on a budget, you can create a very workable and usable set of snake hooks by bending and modifying various diameters of welding rods, or even a section of a thick wire coat-hanger. Note, however, that handmade snake sticks are too flimsy for pinning or lifting heavy species. For such purposes use a thick gauge wire instead.

You will need:

a suitable piece of metal

a length of wooden dowel

1 Hammer the tip of your metal flat and round it to make it easier to slide under the animal’s body.

2 For smaller hooks use a bit of coat-hanger (one of the straight bits, not the hook itself) and secure it firmly to a length of wooden dowel.

Using a snake hook or stick

There is no substitute for experience when it comes to using a snake hook, so practise on the smaller, slower, non-venomous species. For terrestrial species, those that live most of their lives with their bellies hugging the ground, slide the hook under the snake’s body at the halfway point and gently lift it up. This is usually all you need to do, as most snakes have a reflex response to height and the possibility of falling; they will freeze and grip the hook as best they can. As long as you keep the hook high enough for the snake to feel it cannot crawl down, it will stay put. Be careful not to lift the snake higher than your gripping hand, as this encourages it to move towards you; and be aware that although the snake isn’t going anywhere, it may well feel threatened and strike out – keep a sphere of safety around the snake and be aware of the position of any other people, too. Heavier snakes, particularly Gabon Vipers (Bitis gabonica), Puff Adders (B. arietans) and other big-bodied vipers, can be injured by their own weight pressing on the hook; supporting them with two hooks distributes the weight better.

For faster colubrids and other non-venomous snakes, using a snake stick is an art form akin to juggling spaghetti with chopsticks! At the same time as you pin the snake with the stick, you want to make a confident grab at the tail. This is known as ‘tailing’ and it relies on holding the snake by the rear end of its body while supporting and/or controlling the front end, which in most cases will be either trying to get away at all costs or coming back at you. Those that crawl up the sticks (particularly arboreal species) or try to get away are best dealt with by using two sticks. These ‘runny’ snakes usually settle down after they have passed back and forth several times; those that don’t need to be restrained by being ‘tailed’. Pinning sticks are something you shouldn’t need to use. Pinning is a way of restraining an animal so that it can be picked up while gentle pressure is exerted on its jaws to prevent it from biting. This technique is mostly used in laboratories where snakes are manipulated in order to extract venom. For the amateur, it is just asking to be bitten.

A researcher uses a snake hook to catch a Forest Cobra in Cameroon, carefully keeping his distance.

A quick word on transporting snakes

For everything from big anacondas to the tiniest of colubrids, the best way of transporting a snake is in a cloth bag of an appropriate size – those cloth laundry bags available from the top drawer in posh hotels are great because they come with a built-in drawstring, but a pillow case or cloth sack will do fine. Place or drop the snake into the bag, use your hook to squeeze it gently towards the closed end, twist the neck of the bag together and tie it back on itself. The snake is now safely trapped in the dark, soft confines of the bag. Do not be complacent, though: just because the snake is out of your sight doesn’t mean that you are out of its sight or bite! It may be able to see you through the weave. Long-fanged species especially can and will strike out at shadows, and being bitten through a bag is no laughing matter. Cloth bags don’t give their occupants much physical protection, so place the bag in a bucket, tub or more robust bag while the snake is in transit.

Showing a snake a dark bolt hole, in the form of a pipe leading to a bag, is one of the safest ways to persuade them to go in and then transport them.

Rules of engagement

If you have doubts about the identity of the animal or your ability to handle it, leave well alone.

Never handle large or venomous reptiles if under the influence of intoxicating substances. Always have your wits about you.

Never directly handle or pin a venomous snake.

Know your limits and do not be afraid of admitting them – when it comes to safety, leave your ego at home.

Never work with potentially dangerous reptiles alone. Always ‘buddy’ up with someone reliable.

Be aware of the current laws before engaging with any reptile for the country you are in, see codes of conduct here.

Don’t catch reptiles unless you need to move, study or identify them.

Shark skin detail.