In a previous post, I reviewed the diversity of Anolis lizards north of the Andes in South America. In this post I continue on that theme with a review of the diversity of anoles in the Amazon and south of the Amazon throughout South America. Much of this review must include the caveat that this understanding is ever-changing as new taxa are described.
I start with a list of native anoles south of the Andes in South America, which is a surprisingly short list considering the large area included and that this list also includes the Amazon basin.
Widespread throughout both Amazon and Atlantic rainforests
A. punctatus, A. fuscoauratus, A. ortonii
Widespread, but limited to the Amazon
A. trachyderma, A. transversalis, A. chrysolepis, A. tandai, A. bombiceps
Occurs in Amazon and/or llanos northwest of Amazon
A. scypheus, A. inderenae, A. vanzolinii, A. huilae, A. ruizii
Limited distribution in northern llanos/Amazon and north of Andes
A. planiceps, A. auratus
Range restricted in western and southwestern Amazon
A. phyllorhinus, A. cuscoensis, A. dissimilis, A. lososi, A. boettgeri, A. soinii, A. fitchi, A. podocarpus, A. orcesi
Widespread in sub-Amazonian (southeastern) dry forests of South America
A. meridionalis, A. brasiliensis
Limited distribution in sub-Amazonian (southeastern) Atlantic rainforests of South America
A. nasofrontalis, A. pseudotigrinus. A. neglectus
There are roughly 102 anole species that occur in all of South America. However, 67 or so of these occur north and west of the Andes (the so-called trans-Andean region) leaving perhaps 35-40 species south of the Andes (cis-Andean). The numbers don’t quite add up because a small handful of species (e.g., A. planiceps, A. auratus) occur in both regions depending on how these regions are defined geographically. So, despite the great diversity of anoles in the Caribbean and Central America, or even the respectable diversity of anoles north of the Andes, the cis-Andean region is relatively diversity poor. Causes for this lack of cis-Andean anole diversity includes the lack of meaningful geographic barriers that may make speciation less common in anoles. Alternatively, these animals are less commonly used as study subjects so subtle molecular diversity may not yet have been identified in these lineages. Either way, despite occurring throughout the Amazon basin, the llanos of Colombia and Venezuela to the northwest of the Amazon, the dry transitional forests and grasslands of Brazil to the southeast of the Amazon, as well as in the coastal rainforests of Brazil along the Atlantic coast, only several dozens of species of anoles occurn south of the Andes mountains, many of which are range restricted in a few small areas up against the mountains themselves.
Most of the anoles in this area of South America are found in the Amazon region, which makes sense given the vast extent of the rainforest ecosystem in the northern half of the continent. Despite this, there are currently only 28 or so species of anoles in the entire Amazon observed on iNaturalist.org, all but three of which are considered native (non-introduced) species. Over half of these species (16 or so) are endemic to the Amazon region (broadly defined) and found nowhere else [note, in this context, I use iNaturalist’s definition of “Amazon region” which includes the dry edges [llanos in the northwest, cerrado in the southeast] and not just the rainforest ecosystem proper, including extending all the way to the Orinoco in the north). So, clearly the Amazon is the center of diversity for cis-Andean anoles even as the number of species (25 or so native species) is not especially impressive given that there are currently over 300 species of lizards described from the Amazon. Perhaps it is this lizard diversity itself that accounts for the lack of species richness in anoles in that many of the niches occupied by anoles elsewhere (e.g., crown giants) are likely occupied by competing species (e.g. Tropiduridae, Polychrotidae). Or if not competitors, perhaps the great diversity of predators is what accounts for the lack of anole diversity (iNaturalist currently includes observations of over 300 species of snakes in the Amazon alone). Either way, anoles are clearly not the dominant taxon south of the Andes that they appear to be elsewhere. However, they do still occur nearly everywhere in South America.
The natural distribution of anoles in South America reaches south to about the latitude of São Paulo (23.6°S), or just outside the Tropic of Capricorn. This corresponds roughly to the latitude of Miami just outside the Tropic of Cancer in the northern hemisphere. However, the native Anolis carolinensis in the north has a natural range at higher latitudes, suggesting the southern extent of the anole radiation is not as great as it is in the north. As with that northern range margin for the clade, the diversity of anoles dwindles greatly along the Atlantic coast near the range edges with only perhaps one native species occurring south of Rio de Janeiro (22.9°S) (Anolis porcatus is introduced in São Paulo, but introduced species will be discussed in a future post). Even inland, there is only perhaps one species of anole that ranges as far south as Paraguay or far northern Argentina. So, even though widespread, the pattern of diversity is such that anoles appear less widespread in southern hemisphere than in the northern hemisphere.
Perhaps, one of the more interesting patterns to emerge when considering anole diversity in South America is the slow, but steady description of new species, many of which are range limited to small areas in the southern and western parts of the Amazon. The greatest number of species in the Amazon can be described as range restricted with perhaps nine species occurring in small local enclaves or areas. These include some of the more enigmatic species such as Anolis phyllorhinus with the long fleshy proboscis in the males. Thus, as with the trans-Andean anoles, the geographic complexity of the Andes has likely created conditions for some version of allopatric species to take place, whether it be true allopatry or some type of peripatry on a range’s periphery. I fully expect that additional species will be described from the Andean foothills or the western and southwestern Amazon.
Finally, it is interesting to consider the near complete replacement of species on either side of the Andes with very little crossover; clearly the Andes are a fairly effective barrier to gene flow for anoles. A few species appear to occur on both side of the Andes in the area south and east of Bogotá, Colombia. However, this crossover appears to be limited in terms of diversity and extent of species. Instead, the biggest exchange of species appears to have occurred around the northern terminus of the Andes in Venezuela where two species in particular span the cis- and trans-Andean regions: Anolis planiceps and A. auratus. Anolis planiceps occurs along the Caribbean coast of Venezuela as well as south into Colombia, Guyana, and Roraima, Brazil. However, Anolis auratus as currently defined occurs much more broadly ranging from Costa Rica and Panama, throughout cis- and trans-Andean regions of Colombia and Venezuela, along the Atlantic coast to at least Amapá, Brazil, and south into the states of Roraima and Pará, Brazil. In Brazil in particular A. auratus seems to be limited to areas of geologic uplift that have created the grassland habitat with which this species is associated. The highlands to the north and south of the Amazon river were created when the Guiana Shield and Brazilian Shield, respectively, were forced upward by geologic uplifting. Hence, the Amazon river roughly runs in the low areas in-between the uplift of these two large blocks on the South American continent. Just south of the Amazon River, an isolated population of Anolis auratus occurs in a place called Alter do Chão (translation from Portuguese is literally ‘altar of ground’) where a small piece of the raised uplift creates savanna-like grassland/forest habitat surrounded by lowland Amazon rainforest to the south and east and bordered by the Amazon and Tapajós Rivers to the north and west, respectively. The presence of these lizards in as a small and isolated enclave 1000 km from their nearest neighbors generates more questions than answers. How long have they been there? How did they get there? How distinct are they? How stable is this population? These are all good and unresolved questions remaining to be addressed biologically.
I saved the above observation for last to make the point that on the surface the Amazon may appear to be a vast tract of uniform habitat with little barriers to gene flow leading to biological uniformity, but the reality is that this view is overly simplistic in the context of how species are actually distributed on the landscape. Rather, it is likely the lack of available data that prevent us from truly understanding the biogeography of lizards in the Amazon and other areas of South America. This makes the continual addition of new species and biogeographic patterns useful and exciting given the advances in molecular biology that continue to further our understanding. Hence, even in the relatively anole-poor regions of South America, anoles continue as a model system for understanding patterns of biological diversity.
Category: All Posts Page 1 of 146
How many anoles can you find?
from the front page of the South Florida Sun Sentinel, above the fold!
The lizard wars of South Florida help reveal how evolution works
CORAL GABLES — Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden may look serene at first glance, but beneath the resplendent orchids and majestic banyans, two invasive lizards are waging a turf war.
The war started a few years ago when Cuban brown anoles, who have called South Florida home for about 100 years, came face to face for the first time with a new rival: crested anoles from Puerto Rico.
As the two species, which look almost identical and occupy the same ecological niche, faced off, biologists were able to document who was winning, and more importantly, how quickly the losers were adapting to survive on new turf.
A new study reveals that the losing species is adapting at a rapid pace, changing their behavior, but also their bodies. This fast adaptation is altering what we know about how evolution works.
Nearly identical invaders
Brown and crested anoles are almost identical — lanky, 4 to 8 inches long, splotchy brown and skittish (lots of animals eat them). But the cresteds are slightly bigger, and the males grow a crest on their tails.
Both lizards evolved on separate Caribbean islands to perch on tree trunks where they can scan the forest floor dart into leaf little to snag meals such as spiders and roaches.
But they’ve never had to compete against each other. “They’re convergently evolved,” said Georgia Tech evolutionary biologist James Stroud, who led the team of researchers on the study.
“They evolved completely independently. … Their last common ancestor is probably around 60 million years ago. To put that in perspective, humans and chimps, their last common ancestor was 13 to 16 million years ago. So the lizards are deeply deeply diverged.”
Stroud said that in 2018, crested anoles showed up at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, where he’d already been studying survival rates and evolutionary adaptation of the brown anoles.
The arrival provided Stroud and his team the opportunity to study, in real time, how quickly species can adapt under pressure.
They used a fishing pole with a tiny lasso on the end to catch every lizard on an island at Fairchild the size of a football field. They then measured their physical traits, tagged them with ID numbers, released them exactly where they caught them, and spent months observing them. They then recaptured the survivors several months later.
“What we saw was when they came into contact, the cresteds, which are a little bit bigger, can dominate behaviorally, so they pushed the browns to the ground,” said Stroud. In other words, the crested anoles won the turf war, and the browns moved to a more dangerous place with a lousy view.
The territory change showed behavioral elasticity, but Stroud was also interested in physical adaptation. His team found that over time, brown anoles with longer legs had higher survival rates after the crested anoles showed up.
Researchers also tested the finding at other lizard hot spots around South Florida. They discovered that wherever brown and crested anoles had to compete for territory, the browns became more land-based, and those with longer legs lived longer. If there were no crested anoles present, long legs did not correlate with better survival.
“Before the cresteds arrived, when the browns were not living on the ground much, leg length didn’t really matter to survival,” Stroud said. “But as soon as the crested anoles arrived, brown anoles with relatively longer legs survived better. … Now that brown anoles have shifted where they’re living — suddenly there’s an adaptive benefit to having longer legs.”
Stroud suspects that the longer legs helped the browns run faster to escape predators such as herons, egrets, mocking birds and larger invasive brown basilisk lizards from Central America.
From that survival rate, he and other evolutionary biologists can gain a clearer understanding of how natural selection, and thus evolution, is operating in the world.
“This is called microevolutionary dynamics,” Stroud said. Over the past 40 or 50 years, evolutionary biologists have begun to realize that evolution might actually happen quickly enough to record in something as short as a 10-year field study. “We never thought it was possible,” Stroud said.
This bucks against one of main tenants of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution, that evolution happens very, very slowly over time.
Darwin’s notion of slow evolution made sense at the time, Stroud said. Some fossil records don’t change at all for 50 million years. “Slow gradual change through the fossil records was the evidence Darwin used to think that evolution moved at a really, really slow pace,” Stroud said.
But Stroud’s lizards in this study, as well as previous ones, show rapid changes almost constantly. Anoles live short, fast lives. Males rarely survive longer than a year, and females sometimes eke out two years of life. And they’re constantly laying eggs.
Their generations compile quickly compared to humans and other large mammals. “We think these sorts of evolutionary dynamics play out in all organisms, it just changes relative to the organism’s life history,” Stroud said.
If brown anoles at Fairchild evolve to have longer legs, that doesn’t mean they’ll change the species globally. These blips in traits can fade. But if the pressure is right, if natural selection is strong and widespread, “it can lead to rapid evolutionary change,” Stroud said.
The Lizard Olympics
Stroud isn’t done with South Florida’s invasive lizards. He’s currently conducting a study that he’s dubbed the “Lizard Olympics.”
This past spring, he and the team tested the hundreds of lizards they’ve caught on the island for various physical skills. They tested their speed on a race track; they tested their bite strength with a highly sensitive bite meter; and they tested their grip strength by placing them on leaves and bark surfaces and pulling them off.
They then tagged them and let them go on the island, and will later recapture them to see if those skills correlate to better survival for different species.
Stroud said they’ve already inferred longer legs mean faster speed and thus better survival for brown anoles, but now they’re testing it directly.
He anticipates that each species will have different skill-survival correlations: running speed might be irrelevant to the tree-dwelling green anoles, but grip strength might be important, while brown anoles might need more speed.
The lizards are being put to the test, but so are the researchers. “My students are hating me, because we just finished processing 2.5 thousand slo-mo videos of lizards running.”
Quick localized evolution, and what it means for the bigger picture of a species, is something Stroud and his peers are trying to understand — how these micro events fit into the macro story of a species.
“We now know that evolution can happen on really rapid evolutionary time scales, but what does that mean for the creation of new species?”
South Florida, with its menagerie of invasive species, gives them a unique opportunity to cast a bit more light on the mystery.
When I started my blog, The Adventures of a Young Naturalist, I was just 10 years old, writing about whatever captured my curiosity. Fast forward to today, and here I am, celebrating the 50th post on my site. That’s 50 topics explored, countless late-night edits, and more than a few moments of panic over whether anyone would actually read what I wrote. But it’s also 50 chances to learn, connect, and (hopefully) inspire. Here’s the wild part: for this milestone post, I got to interview someone whose work was published in Biology Letters, a rigorous, peer-reviewed Royal Society journal, and featured in a news blurb in Nature—one of the most prestigious scientific journals in the world.
Reaching this milestone got me thinking about what drives curiosity. For me, it’s the joy of uncovering something unexpected—like a lizard that breathes underwater. Yes, you read that right. My fascination with the natural world recently led me to interview Lindsey Swierk, a scientist whose research on bubble-breathing water anoles is so fascinating it belongs in a sci-fi novel. But it’s not sci-fi—it’s real, and it’s as innovative as it is weird.
It’s not just the research that’s impressive. Getting an article published and featured is a huge deal in the science world, so having the chance to talk with Lindsey about her work, her journey, and the cutting-edge tech her research is inspiring feels like an honor.
Before we dive into the fascinating world of bubble-breathing lizards and the incredible scientist who studies them, I just want to say how grateful I am—for the readers who’ve followed me on this journey, the people who’ve inspired me along the way, and to the tiny anoles of Costa Rica for being delightfully strange. Here’s to curiosity, hard work, and chasing big dreams—no matter your age.
The Article That Popped My Bubble
I leaned closer to my computer screen, captivated by the shimmering creature I saw. I was reading an article about a water anole, perched on a submerged rock, the thin layer of air on its scales glinting like silver. Suddenly, a bubble formed on the lizard’s snout, growing until it seemed it would float away. But nope, the lizard inhaled it again like, “What? You thought I’d waste this?” The lizard hadn’t exhaled; it re-breathed, drawing oxygen from the bubble like a diver using an air tank.
Was this real? Could a lizard truly breathe underwater? Amazingly, yes. The semi-aquatic anole is the only vertebrate known to use bubbles for underwater respiration, staying submerged for up to 16 minutes and reusing the air it carries—an ingenious survival strategy meant to keep it safe from predators.
At this point, I’m hooked. I have questions. How does it do that? Can I do that? (Spoiler: no, I cannot.) As I read, I couldn’t help but imagine how bubble-breathing could inspire futuristic gadgets. Water anole-inspired scuba-diving gear, anyone? I’d buy it.
After learning about these creatures while reading Anole Annals, I wanted to know even more! Lindsey’s dynamic writing and research captivated me, and after some research of my own, I found her email and asked for an interview. To my excitement, Lindsey responded enthusiastically, even sharing a draft of her upcoming article, now published in Biology Letters.
Despite her packed schedule, Lindsey graciously made time for me, which I am very thankful for. Today, I’m excited to share some of Lindsey’s insights, publishing process and her plans for future research with you.
What It Takes to Study Bubble-Breathing Lizards
Lindsey Swierk is a behavioral ecologist, herpetologist, and assistant research professor at Binghamton University. Her research focuses on things like reproductive strategies and animal communication—which basically means she probably knows more about lizard dating habits than most lizards do. Lindsey’s path to studying bubble-breathing anoles wasn’t exactly a straight line.
Initially, she was focused on studying wood frogs, but in 2014, an opportunity to mentor college students in Costa Rica led her to the Las Cruces Biological Station. Hiking through the misty, high-altitude environment, Lindsey encountered her first water anole, a creature that would change her research path.
The water anole wasn’t a new discovery, but it was new to Lindsey. Its color-changing ability fascinated her, and its unusual behavior set it apart. One misty hike, one flashy lizard, and Lindsey’s research plans flipped faster than a water anole diving for cover. I can relate—when I first moved to Georgia, the local anoles immediately piqued my curiosity. They’re not the bubble-breathing variety, but with their quirky side-eyes and bold personalities, they’ve completely charmed me.
An Inside Look at Publishing in Biology Letters
After deciding that water anoles were worth studying, Lindsey returned to Costa Rica with a team to dive into her research—both figuratively and literally. She immersed herself in the lizard’s bubble-breathing ability and couldn’t wait to share her findings. When asked whether she knew her discovery was groundbreaking enough for a journal as prestigious as Biology Letters, she said:
“Honestly, I didn’t [know]. I just thought people would find it cool. What I did know, is that I had never heard of another anole doing something like this. And anoles are super cool because they have adapted to so many different types of habitats… [Researchers already] knew that there was a group of anoles called semi-aquatic anoles and we all thought that they just adapted to hanging out near streams, but I had never heard of this [bubble breathing] behavior before.” – Lindsey Swierk
I loved her answer. It’s such a refreshing reminder that you don’t have to set out to solve world hunger or cure a disease to make an impact—sometimes, chasing what you think is cool can lead to extraordinary discoveries. Lindsey didn’t overcomplicate it; she thought, “Bubble-breathing lizards? Yes, please!” And yet, getting published in Biology Letters is no simple task. She had to turn her observations into a convincing scientific story that appealed to experts and readers who might struggle to understand what an anole even is.
As I learned more about these bubble-breathing reptiles and Lindsey’s journey, I couldn’t help but feel her enthusiasm jump off the page. It’s not just the discovery that’s amazing—it’s the way she turned it into something the world couldn’t ignore. I’ve caught myself thinking, Okay, this is wild—tell me everything!
Turning Science Into Storytelling
A part of Lindsey’s story that really stuck with me was her unique approach to writing scientific papers. For Lindsey, these papers aren’t just a way to present data—they’re stories designed to captivate and engage readers, and her method of building that narrative is as fascinating as the discoveries themselves.
Lindsey starts by diving into the nitty-gritty: documenting her methods and results. This step isn’t just about ticking boxes—it’s the backbone of her work, ensuring other researchers can replicate her findings and bolstering the credibility of her study. From there, she tackles the statistics and results sections, where she analyzes and presents her data in a way that’s clear, precise, and leaves no room for doubt.
But here’s where her process takes a creative turn. Instead of starting with the introduction, Lindsey saves it for later. She calls this the “investigative part” of her writing process, where she crafts an introduction that doesn’t just explain why her research matters but ties it into the broader scientific context like the opening chapter of a thrilling mystery. This backwards-seeming approach lets her build the introduction around a story that’s already complete and cohesive.
The final hurdle is submitting her draft for publication and navigating the revision process. Lindsey’s experience publishing in Biology Letters was impressively smooth—she submitted in June and had her article accepted with only minor edits by August. It’s a testament to her skill in turning raw research into a polished, compelling narrative.
Hearing Lindsey describe her writing process felt like a lightbulb moment for me. Lately, I’ve been starting my own writing projects in the middle, working my way to the end, and then finishing with the introduction. It’s messy, but it works—and now I know I’m in good company. Listening to her made me want to write my own scientific paper. All I need is a good research subject—or maybe a collaborator who’s as excited about quirky reptiles as I am!
How Water Anoles Are Inspiring Future Tech
Here’s where things get even cooler: Lindsey’s research is inspiring cutting-edge technology. Yep, bubble-breathing lizards might one day revolutionize everything from water-repellent clothing to oxygenation systems for lakes. Take that, science fiction!
She’s already collaborating with researchers in Germany to uncover what makes the water anole’s skin so effective at repelling water. They’re exploring whether a waxy coating or unique surface structures play a role. This research could inspire potential applications in everything from water-repellent clothing to electronics that need protection from moisture.
But that’s not all. Lindsey is also investigating how the shape of the water anole’s head keeps the bubbles firmly attached, even underwater. This discovery has inspired a collaboration with researchers at UMass Amherst to explore how similar principles could be used to pump oxygen into bodies of water, such as lakes with low oxygen levels, by allowing oxygen to diffuse from bubbles into the water. Such technology could help restore damaged ecosystems.
These projects, while still in their early stages, are a fascinating glimpse into how biology can inspire innovative solutions to real-world challenges. While it might be a while before you can wear a rain jacket designed with water anole-inspired technology, the possibilities are thrilling. For me, learning about Lindsey’s research reminds me of how interconnected the world is—how a tiny lizard’s adaptations could lead to solutions for challenges humans face every day. It’s a reminder that innovation can come from unexpected places, and it makes me wonder what other secrets the natural world is waiting to share with us.
Final Thoughts
Here we are—50 blog posts later, and I’m still amazed by where this journey has taken me. From writing about backyard discoveries to interviewing a scientist whose work was published in Biology Letters, it’s been an unforgettable ride. I’m deeply grateful for every reader who’s joined me along the way. Whether you’ve been here since post #1 or just stumbled across this on Anole Annals, your support means the world to me.
This Thanksgiving, I’m especially thankful for the chance to share stories that spark curiosity and celebrate the wonders of the natural world. Lindsey’s research on bubble-breathing water anoles is a perfect reminder that science isn’t just about answering big questions—it’s about uncovering small, unexpected marvels that connect us to the world (and sometimes inspire futuristic scuba gear).
As I reflect on this milestone, I realize that The Adventures of a Young Naturalist wouldn’t be what it is without you—my readers. Your comments, questions, and enthusiasm have turned this from a solitary project into a shared adventure. So, here’s to all of us—embracing curiosity, chasing big dreams, and maybe discovering a teleporting lizard for my 100th post.
Let’s make these bubble-breathing anoles famous! Share this blog on your socials and with your favorite science-loving friends. And don’t forget to join the fun in the comments—what’s the most fascinating thing you’ve read lately? I’m ready for some epic suggestions!
Check out my blog at https://buymeacoffee.com/naturalistadventures/posts
Collecting reptile names is one thing, but it’s a different thing to figure out what these names actually mean. At the Reptile Database we have collected the etymologies of more than 11,000 reptile species, but there are still a lot of gaps for subspecies and synonyms. I wonder if anyone in the Anole community is interested in that subject.
More specifically, there are 434 species of anoles with a total of 109 subspecies (excluding nominate subspecies), that is, a total of 543 names. Of those, we do have the etymologies of over 500 taxa, but there are at least 32 missing (all Caribbean subspecies). Here is the list:
- Anolis allogus BARBOUR & RAMSDEN 1919
- Anolis confusus ESTRADA & GARRIDO 1991
- Anolis homolechis (COPE 1864)
- Anolis loysiana (COCTEAU 1836)
- Anolis lucius DUMÉRIL & BIBRON 1837
In addition, we need the etymology of the following subspecies:
species | ssp etymology wanted |
Anolis equestris | potior |
Anolis strahmi | abditus |
Anolis lineatopus | ahenobarbus, merope, neckeri |
Anolis olssoni | alienus, domingonis, extentus, ferrugicauda, insulanus, montivagus, palloris |
Anolis baleatus | altager, lineatacervix |
Anolis grahami | aquarum |
Anolis porcatus | aracelyae |
Anolis distichus | distichoides, ignigularis, juliae |
Anolis barahonae | ininquinatus, mulitus |
Anolis saxatilis | lapidosus |
Anolis scriptus | leucophaeus, mariguanae, sularum |
Anolis monticola | quadrisartus |
Anolis longitibialis | specuum |
The technology-minded among you may say, sure, that’s easy, just ask ChatGPT what these names mean. Here is what ChatGPT says about the first 3 of them:
- Anolis equestris potior:
- potior: Latin for “better,” “superior,” or “more important.” This could suggest that this subspecies is seen as a more distinctive or notable form compared to others.
- Anolis strahmi abditus:
- abditus: Latin for “hidden” or “concealed.” This might indicate a subspecies that is difficult to find, perhaps due to a cryptic lifestyle or remote habitat.
- Anolis lineatopus ahenobarbus:
- ahenobarbus: Latin for “bronze-bearded” (ahenus meaning “bronze” and barba meaning “beard”). This likely refers to a feature such as a bronze or reddish coloration on the chin or throat.
You can see that ChatGPT has a pretty good grasp of Latin, and it can make good educated guesses, but it is often not quite sure about the finer details behind species names.
When it comes to eponyms, it’s much worse. Here is an example for some of the eponyms of Pholidoscelis auberi (apologies, not an anole, but a Caribbean Teiid with currently 39 subspecies, of which at least 10 are eponyms, so it’s a good example). Let’s take a look at these 10, namely
- Pholidoscelis auberi auberi (COCTEAU 1838)
- Pholidoscelis auberi garridoi (SCHWARTZ 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi granti (SCHWARTZ 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi hardyi (SCHWARTZ 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi kingi (MCCOY 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi orlandoi (SCHWARTZ & MCCOY 1975)
- Pholidoscelis auberi paulsoni (SCHWARTZ in SCHWARTZ & MCCOY 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi richmondi (MCCOY in SCHWARTZ & MCCOY 1970)
- Pholidoscelis auberi schwartzi (GALI & GARRIDO 1987)
- Pholidoscelis auberi zugi (SCHWARTZ in SCHWARTZ & MCCOY 1970)
Here is what ChatGPT says:
- auberi: Named after Paul Aubert, a naturalist or explorer, as many species are named in honor of individuals. It was first described by Jean Theodore Cocteau in 1838, hence the name Pholidoscelis auberi auberi.
- garridoi: Likely named after a person with the surname Garrido, honoring their contribution to science.
- orlandoi: Likely named after an individual named Orlando, possibly in honor of a person or place associated with the subspecies’ discovery or description.
I save you the remaining ones, because you get the gist: ChatGPT has no idea who these people are, including the namesake of P. a. auberi, which was not named after Paul Aubert, as ChatGPT claims, but rather after Pedro Alejandro Auber (1786-1843), a Cuban botanist and naturalist of French origin (née Pierre Alexandre Auber). The only eponym ChatGPT got right was Pholidoscelis auberi schwartzi, named after Albert Schwartz (1923-1992), the doyen of Caribbean herpetology — one out of ten. Ouch!
So, if you are interested in etymology, of Anolis or otherwise, please let me know. As said, we have about 100o reptile names in need of clarification.
Thanks 🙂
Although anoles are much more well studied and understood in the Caribbean and United States, there is a decent amount of diversity of these lizards throughout South America as well. In consultation with Jonathan Losos, I have agreed to write a series of posts outlining the South American diversity (parts 1 and 2), invasives (part 3), and conservation (part 4) of these animals. This post (diversity part 1) will describe the species that occur in the regions of South America north and west of the Andes along the Caribbean and Pacific Coasts, respectively, while diversity part 2 will focus on the Amazon and everything south and east of the Amazon.
In case you don’t know me, I had experience as a graduate student studying lizard functional morphology of toes and tails in North, Central, and South America. More recently, I have become way too involved in identifying lizards on iNaturalist.org, with a focus on lizards of the New World. To satisfy my own particular obsessiveness, I have tried to identify every lizard observed in the Amazon (all 300+ species of them!) and have expanded those lizard-identifying efforts into other areas as well. It was these efforts that gave me the idea that perhaps the AnoleAnnals might be interested in what I’ve noticed from this relatively understudied part of the world. As such, I will draw liberally from data available on iNaturalist to illustrate my points.
Anole diversity along Caribbean and Pacific Coasts
As of this writing, there are currently nearly 12,000 observations on iNaturalist of 102 species Anolis in South America (“research grade” observations filtered by “wild” and “has photos”). Compare this to the 238,000 observations of 270 species from North America (on iNat this region includes all of Central America, Mexico, the United States, and the Caribbean). Only eight of the species of South American anoles are introduced non-native species (more on this in part 3). This suggests that there are nearly 100 species of Anolis endemic to South America. Clearly, the anoles from South America are not as diverse and not as well observed as those from other areas.
Anoles along the Pacific Coast range from southern Ecuador (and perhaps northern Peru, but not well documented) north to the junction with Central America and continue along the Caribbean Coast east to the mouth of the Orinoco River in Venezuela (note: according to iNaturalist, Guyana, Suriname, and French Guiana are part of the Amazon region even though they may not be part of the Amazon watershed). This region is separated from the Amazon by the Andes Mountains and Orinoco River and very few species cross these particular barriers. Hence, many of the anoles of northern South America still have some degree of endemism and it is this endemism (and the resulting beta diversity) that I highlight below. Keep in mind that new species are being described on a regular basis, so the list below is almost certainly incomplete, but still illustrates my general point.
The species of Anolis that occur in north and west of the Andes include (organized by their geographic distribution):
Western (non-Amazonian) Ecuador (n=9)
A. bionotatus, A. bitectus, A. fasciatus, A. festae, A. lyra, A. neomonteae, A. parilis, A. peraccae, A. proboscis
Western (non-Amazonian) Colombia (n=18)
A. anchicayae, A. antioquiae, A. antonii, A. calimae, A. danieli, A. eulaemus, A. gorgonae, A. heterodermus, A. maculigula, A. macrolepis, A. mariarum, A. medemi, A. quimbaya, A. solitarius, A. sulcifrons, A. tolimensis, A. urraoi, A. ventrimaculatus
Western Ecuador/Colombia (n=13)
A. aequatorialis, A. anchicayae, A. chloris, A. dracula, A. fraseri, A. gemmosus, A. gracilipes, A. granuliceps, A. limon, A. lynchi, A. maculiventris, A. parvauritus, A. princeps
Northern Colombia/Venezuela (n=3)
A. jacare, A. onca, A. tetarii
Northern Venezuela (n=4)
A. anatoloros, A. annectans, A. squamulatus, A. tigrinus
Aruba, Bonaire, and/or Curaçao (A-B-C islands) (n=2)
A. bonairensis, A. lineatus
Found in western Colombia as well as crossing the Darién Gap into Central America (n=8)
A. biporcatus, A. gaigei, A. latifrons, A. poecilopus, A. purpurescens, A. triumphalis, A. tropidogaster, A. vittigerus
Along Caribbean Coast as well as crossing into the Amazon (n=2)
A. auratus, A. planiceps
Non-native anoles (n=8)
A. aeneus, A. cristatellus, A. marmoratus, A. porcatus, A. richardii, A. sagrei, A. trinitatis, A. wattsii
Several things become apparent when considering the above diversity.
—First, there are roughly 67 species of anoles that occur north of the Amazon. Given that there are only about 102 anole species that occur in all of South America, perhaps 2/3 occur in the area adjacent to the speciose Caribbean. That leaves only 1/3 of the South American anole species occurring south and east of the Andes Mountains.
—Second, of the 67 anole species found north of the Amazon, 47 species (70%) are endemic to this region of mainland South America, two species (3%) are endemic to the A-B-C islands, eight species (12%) cross from mainland South America into Central America, and two species (3%) are found extensively in the Amazon as well. So, not as diverse as North America, but with outstanding regional endemism. This regional endemism translates into an impressive beta diversity with geographic replacement probably the rule rather than the exception. In other words, when travelling from one valley to the next, species replacement (beta diversity) occurs at a relatively high rate so that nearly an entirely different set of species may be present in adjacent areas, depending on the nature of the barrier between them. Making this even more of a challenge, in some instances the barrier appears to be the low-lying valley instead of a mountain ridge. For example, in Colombia, Anolis heterodermus Duméril 1851 was recently split into eight distinct species (Morena-Arias et al. 2023). Both the various mountain ranges (Cordillera) as well as the Magdalena River valley appear to act as barriers isolating the various lineages into distinct species. Hence, in terms of trying to identify the Anolis in some of these areas, accurate geographic location is a must.
—Third, there are only eight species (12%) of non-native anoles in all of South America (including the A-B-C islands and Trinidad and Tobago). All eight occur in northern South America and only one or two (A. porcatus and perhaps A. sagrei) occur elsewhere in South America. Contrast this with the 16 or so species of introduced anoles in North America, which have made extensive inroads in places like the southeastern United States, southern Mexico, and certain of the Caribbean Islands. These eight introduced species will be the focus on part 3 of this series.
One of the interesting things about the high degree of endemism of the anoles of northern South America is how quickly it probably occurred. Andean orogeny began perhaps 20 million years ago (mya) and lasted until about 8 mya. Hence, the diversity differences between the occidental (western) and oriental (eastern) regions of countries such as Ecuador, Colombia, and Venezuela are notable for their near completeness. For comparison, the Laramide orogeny that created the Rocky Mountains occurred between 80-55 mya; the Alleghanian orogeny that created the Appalachian Mountains occurred between 325-260 mya. Hence, the temporal arrival of the Andes created spatial barriers to gene flow and geographic complexity that is reflected in the high beta diversity of Anolis both within and between regions of South America.
In conclusion, northern South America is the diversity hotspot for anoles. The anole species north of the Amazon are dominated by native, highly endemic species that often have geographic ranges limited to a single country, a single valley, or even one slope of a single mountain ridge. Moreover, there are relatively few introduced anoles in South America with most of those introduced to the A-B-C islands and Trinidad and Tobago. Given that almost no species of anoles cross the Orinoco River or Andes Mountains and very few species occur extensively in the Carribean or Central America, the anoles of northern South America represent a fairly separate and distinct fauna when compared to other geographic regions within the distribution of Anolis.
Literature cited:
Moreno-Arias, R. A., Méndez-Galeano, M. A., Beltrán, I., & Vargas-Ramírez, M. 2023. Revealing anole diversity in the highlands of the Northern Andes: New and resurrected species of the Anolis heterodermus species group. Vertebrate Zoology, 73, 161-188
Hello fellow anole enthusiasts!
I’m reaching out because I’m in need of some specific anole photos for my research. I’m currently wrapping up my dissertation on the diversification of the Anolis carolinensis subgroup, and I would like to include head profile photos of male anoles in their light phase with the dewlap fully extended (see figure).
I’m specifically looking for images of the following species:
Anolis brunneus
Anolis carolinensis
Anolis longiceps
Anolis maynardi
Anolis smaragdinus
If you have high-quality photos of any of these species, I would greatly appreciate your contribution. All photos will be fully credited to their respective authors, and I’d be happy to share a PDF copy of the published article once it’s completed. Please contact me at javiertorres@ku.edu.
Thank you in advance for your support!
Best regards,
Javier
Written by Wagner Chaves-Acuña and Diego Salas-Solano
Recent fieldwork at the stunning Veragua Rainforest Reserve in Costa Rica’s Caribbean region has brought to light fascinating new insights about Anolis biporcatus, a vibrant green lizard that spends much of its life hidden high in the forest canopy, far from human observation. Through the combined efforts of dedicated scientists and the invaluable local guides and staff at Veragua, we’ve managed to document behaviors never before recorded in this species (see Chaves-Acuña & Salas-Solano, 2024).
Collaboration is Key.
This work wasn’t accomplished by scientists alone. Our collaboration with the naturalist guides and community members at Veragua has been a key part of the process. What might seem like a groundbreaking revelation for us is often part of the daily lives of these dedicated people who live alongside these and many other forest species. Guides such as Kenneth Gonzales Najera, Francisco Araya, Mónica Rojas Rodríguez, and Junior Calderón Villalobos have contributed enormously by observing and capturing footage of the lizards’ behavior, helping us document crucial moments. Thanks to the proximity of the research station to the field sites, we are able to quickly validate and build on this information, creating a dynamic exchange of knowledge, where both science and local expertise come together to unveil nature’s mysteries.
This connection with the local community not only enhances our research but also turns them into passionate guardians of the rainforest. By participating in these projects, they become advocates for conservation and sustainable practices, helping protect the unique biodiversity of this incredible region.
Observing a Miniature World Where Every Detail Counts in the Delicate Dance of Attraction.
Visual displays are a fascinating form of lizard communication, especially during courtship and mating. Males, with their striking blue-centered, red-bordered dewlaps and females with their uniformly white dewlaps both engaged in frequent dewlap extensions during courtship. When a male flares his dewlap, he’s sending important signals about his strength, health, and even genetic fitness, helping females make informed choices about their potential mates. On the other hand, the female’s dewlap display may signal her receptivity to courtship or convey her status to other lizards of the same species. In some cases, it may even function as a way to deter unwanted advances or to assert her presence in a particular area.
The Magic of Color Change.
These lizards normally remain bright green to blend in with the leaves and branches around them. But during courtship, the males undergo rapid color transformations, shifting to darker tones with bold stripes or patches. This color dance may be a visual signal to the females or perhaps a warning to other males in the area. In one particularly dramatic moment, we witnessed a male change color just after biting the female’s neck, a gesture that often precedes mating.
Mating isn’t Easy When You Live in a Forest of Towering Trees.
Most of the time, we observed the lizards mating head-down on vertical tree trunks. The male would hold on tightly to the female with one arm and leg, wrapping the others around her midsection to ensure they stayed in contact. Sometimes, the male’s tail even helped him maintain balance. It’s amazing to see how well they’ve adapted to life in the forest’s complex, vertical world.
What’s particularly surprising is that, although Anolis biporcatus is usually found high up in the canopy, most of our observations happened at just 2 meters above the ground, with only one at 3 meters. This suggests these lizards are more flexible than we thought, using a range of heights in the forest to suit their needs.
Hard to imagine a more important service than this! Miami resident Julie Katz provides the details: “When I walked out of my condo building one night this past spring to walk my dog I encountered a first – a small lizard feasting on a roach.”
Go anoles!