Here’s a disturbing photo that came across Facebook the other day. And I always thought these katydids seemed like delightful, gentle forest nymphs. Who knew they could be vicious killers. This comes from The Biodiversity Group’s Facebook page, but I couldn’t locate the image on their website, though I didn’t look that hard. They identify the anole as A. princeps but don’t provide any further information.
Author: Jonathan Losos Page 76 of 130
Professor of Biology and Director of the Living Earth Collaborative at Washington University in Saint Louis. I've spent my entire professional career studying anoles and have discovered that the more I learn about anoles, the more I realize I don't know.
Anolis tigrinus. Photo by J. Losos.
I’ve previously posted on the surprising behavior of the Venezuelan A. tigrinus. We found them in astonishing abundance in the town of Colonia Tovar, in the mountains above Caracas. Despite their twig anole appearance and their twig anole habitat use–on twigs and other narrow surfaces–they don’t behave like twig anoles. Rather, they move rapidly and often, and seem to display a lot as well. Some Caribbean twig anoles move frequently, albeit slowly, and some display a lot, but none zip around like these guys. Moreover, we’ve seen a number of other mainland twig anoles, and they live life in the slow, slow, slow lane. So, our first day of tigrinus-watching was full of surprises. But that night, things got even more surprising, as I recently recounted in my most recent post in the Scientist at Work blog of the New York Times..
The tell-tale banded tail.
Anolis tigrinus sleeping on a stem. Photo by J. Losos.
As we walked down to the local brewhaus to grab a pizza, we casually scanned our surroundings. And as we walked by a weed patch, there was the tell-tale white blob hanging on to the end of a grass blade. It could be only one thing–an anole. In the Caribbean, this would be primo grass-bush anole habitat, but there were no grass-bush anoles here. Quick examination confirmed that it was an A. tigrinus. That’s right, a twig anole in the grass. And then as we looked around, there were more and more of them–the lot was silly with twig anoles.
The next two days, I came back during the day to look for twig anoles. Unlike in the woods where we had found them initially, the twig anoles here were hard to find during the day, even though the place was full of them at night. The few I saw were deep in the vegetation–my conclusion is that this guys are moving through the vegetation, navigating along narrow branches, stems, and grass-blades.
Which leads, of course, to the question of why in the Caribbean, grass-bush anoles use low-lying narrow vegetation in grassy, bushy areas, while twig anoles use narrow twigs and branches up in the trees. Perhaps A. tigrinus is just being opportunistic, taking advantage of an unoccupied habitat and moving in? Certainly a plausible explanation, but I’ve never, ever heard of a twig anole in the grass in the Caribbean. Has anyone? Not even in Jamaica, where there are no grass-bush anoles.
This in turn reminds me of the trunk-crown anoles, A. allisoni, I observed in the grass in Roatan, Honduras. If nothing else, it’s important to remember that anoles are very behaviorally flexible and adaptable. Even though they’ve specialized to different microhabitats, they aren’t so specialized that they can’t use other microhabitats when they get the chance. Crown-giant anoles on the ground are one example, but that’s another story.
In any case, A. tigrinus is a very interesting anole, and it’s great abundance would make it an excellent choice for behavioral and ecological studies.
Sweet dreams, little tiger anole. Photo by J. Losos
Anole perch height depending on whether it was raining and whether curly-tailed lizards (Leiocephalus carinatus) were observed on the plot.
Do you like standing out in the rain, especially when it’s cold? Me, neither. But that’s what the dastardly curly-tailed lizard forces brown anoles to do. Any sensible, semi-arboreal lizard would come down from the heights and seek shelter when it starts to rain, and that’s exactly what brown anoles do. Except when they’re in areas of high curly-tailed lizard activity, in which case they suck up and stay up high, shivering and being pelted by rain drops. That’s what research by Marta Lopez-Darias and colleagues (among which, yours truly) reported in a recent paper in Ecology. As the figure below illustrates, pretty much the only time the brown anoles drop down is when the weather goes to pot and curlies aren’t around: cool, windy, and very humid–in other words, when it’s raining. But if big boys have been cruising around on the ground, the anoles maintain their high perches.
Brown anole perch height as a function of a variety of weather variables and of curly-tailed lizard activity (in this figure, instead of presence/absence as in the figure above, predator activity was measured as the time-standardized number of active curly-tailed lizards observed on the plot).
All kidding aside, it’s not clear why they come down when it’s raining, but presumably there’s a benefit to it. One can only speculate what that is; my first guess: when it’s wet and cold, anoles are less able to notice approaching predators and less able to get away quickly because of their lower body temperature, hence they seek safer environs. Or perhaps there’s simply no potential prey afoot, and thus no reason to hang out in a high vantage point looking for them. Whatever the reason for doing so, it appears to be overruled by the threat of marauding curly tails.
As for details of the study: ten study plots were set up in various parts of Great Abaco. Plots were regularly censused, tabulating the number of curly-tailed lizards observed, the perch position of each anole observed, and a battery of meteorological variables.
Your intrepid correspond is currently in West Palm Beach, Florida, about to embark on a meandering trip north in quest of yellow-dewlapped brown anoles and other anole curiosities (speaking of which, anyone know a good site to find A. sagrei with a lot of yellow in their dewlaps? Like half or more?). In any case, today’s curiosity occurred as I was walking through a large condo development. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something double surprising. The first surprise was that it was a knight anole–I wasn’t aware that they had spread so far from Miami, although a subsequent google search revealed that, in fact, they are not only known from West Palm, but also from considerably further to the north (see map above).
The second surprise was where the lizard was. It was on the ground. Well, from the corner of my eye, it seemed like it had hopped from the ground, but when I actually turned to look, it was on a tree trunk, about 10 cm off the ground. Still, quite low, not where you expect to find a crown-giant. Sean Giery coincidentally wrote a post about female knight anoles laying their eggs in holes on the ground, so that’s a possible explanation, though this was a little knight, more of a knightlet, at ca. 130 mm svl.
Excited by the spotting of such a noble beast, I forsook the brown anoles and began looking for the big greens. And they were remarkably abundant! In about an hour of meandering, I found 13! Some were high up in the tree, right where they should be (you can see the silhouette of one in the photo to the left), but others were much lower (photo on right), and one was on a shuffleboard court (below)! In addition, as I posted recently, evidence of terrestrial habitat use was also found post-mortem by the discovery of a two-dimensional equestris on the one-lane road running through the complex.
Site of the terrestrial knight anole spotting. A careful look will reveal that Anolis equestris isn’t the only terrestrial lizard in this habitat.
Why is it that these lizards are on the ground? Well, for one thing, this is not a forest, but a condo subdivsion. There are plenty of trees, but most have been planted and they are spaced out. Many of the knight anoles I found were in trees there were completely isolated, such as the one in the photo on the left. In other words, to get from one tree to another, or to colonize a tree in the first place, the big lizards have to move on the ground. There’s been very little work on knight anole ecology and habitat use–it would be really interesting to see how often they move from one isolated tree to another.
But these low-riding knights (in the Jansonian sense) are only half of the reason that I’ve titled this post “World Turned Upside Down.”
Here’s something you don’t see every day. More on these guys soon.
- Anolis annectens. Photo by J. Losos.
No flies on you guys–this remarkably obscure anole was quickly identified. So, what’s its claim to fame?
Well, we have to backtrack to Anolis onca for a minute. Faithful AA readers will recall that A. onca is the only anole lacking a subdigital toepad. For this reason, at one point it was placed in its own genus, Tropidodactylus. However, in 1974 Ernest Williams described a new species in Breviora based on a single specimen found in a jar of A. onca in the Field Museum in Chicago. At that time, Anolis was characterized by having expanded scales under phalanxes ii and iii of the toe, whereas Tropidodactylus, of course, had none (phalanxes are the bones in a toe–humans have three per finger, for example). What was remarkable was that the new specimen had expanded scales under phalanx ii, the Anolis condition, but only keeled scales under phalanx iii–it was intermediate between the two, hence the specific name annectens. Here’s an image from Williams’ paper and a photograph of an annectens toe.
From Williams (1974).
Anolis annectens foot. Note the lamellae under only one toe bone. Photo by J. Losos.
The term “retrograde” comes from Williams’ paper and refers to the idea that A. annectens and A. onca illustrate a morphocline in toepad reduction–halfway gone, then all the way gone. Incidentally, recent molecular studies confirm that the two species are sister taxa.
Amazingly enough, A. annectens occurs in the same general region as A. onca, near Lake Maracaibo in Venezuela. In 2007, Tito Barros and colleagues reported in Tropical Zoology on the collection of an additional 22 specimens of A. annectens, confirming that the one individual wasn’t a freak. They also provided information on coloration, geographic distribution (it still hasn’t been found in sympatry with A. onca) and some data on ecology.
Since we were in the area any way, we decided to go and look for them after collecting data on A. onca. By “we,” I mean Tito Barros, Gilson Rivas, several students of theirs, and Rosario Castañeda. Anthony Herrel was busy back at the field lab conducting performance trials (sprint speed, bite force), and I was on assignment finding discarded cardboard boxes to make a proper racetrack.
The weather was beastly hot, about 110 degrees Fahrenheit, with no wind. Here’s what Rosario had to say:
Read all about in Janson Jones’ latest anole post over on Dust tracks on the web and more on the ever dangerous broad-headed skinks at this recent post.
Better Janson than a brown anole
Rob Heathcote posted this photo as a comment on Sean Giery’s post on bird predation on anoles, but the photo is so spectacular that we need to make sure everyone sees it.
Anolis tigrinus. Photo by Anthony Herrel
The last leg of our Little Known Mainland Anole Tour took us to the mountains above Caracas, in quest of Anolis tigrinus. A “mystery anole” photo of that species was put up on AA in December, and savvy readers quickly pegged it as a mainland species, noting it’s twig anole-like appearance. Moreover, the only publication on the natural history of this species, by Ugueto, Rivas, Barros, and Smith, suggested it was a twig anole as well. Given our previous work that had identified the twig anolishness of A. proboscis in Ecuador and A. (Phenacosaurus) heterodermus in Colombia (earlier in this trip), we’re beginning to see a trend: twig anoles seem to be the one kind of West Indian ecomorph that has evolved many times on the mainland (the A. pentaprion clade is another candidate).
Colonia Tovar
So, fresh from the beaches of Maracaibo, we headed to the mountains in quest of the tiger anole. A last minute change in plan led us to the little town of Colonia Tovar at about 7000 feet in elevation. We didn’t know what to expect from TC, but Wikipedia describes it as “Germany in the Caribbean.” Established by settlers from Baden (now part of Germany) in the 1850’s, the town gradually declined for a century, before reinventing itself as a kitschy tourist trap in the 1960s, and now it’s booming. And it was delightful. All of the buildings seemed straight out of Bavaria, there were brewhauses and wienerschnitzel (see photo at bottom of post), the waitresses wearing their fraulein get-ups.
The friendly locals in Colonia Tovar
We stayed at a delightful little hotel, Cabañas Heidelberg. And for no extra charge, we were able to go lizard hunting in the little patch of woods out back.
Those of you who noticed when the answer was briefly revealed, please don’t spill the beans. Very few AA readers, or anyone else, have seen this one!