Blog

I previously shared my favorite herping finds of 2021 – #5 through #3. This post will round out the list and offer a little bonus! As a reminder, this list emphasizes the experience along with the animals themselves.

2. Mexican Burrowing Toad – Rhinophrynus dorsalis

When you think of South Texas herping, your mind inevitably wanders to a suite of range-restricted species better associated with tropical influences of Mexico rather than the temperate US. The Mexican Burrowing Toad is one of these animals and it is also one of the most difficult amphibians to see in Texas. There are a couple of big problems when it comes to observing this animal: 

• They are limited to only two South Texas counties along the Rio Grande.
• They remain inactive and buried belowground throughout much of the year.
• The habitat is nearly inaccessible and protected behind ranch gates, barbed wire fences, and no trespassing signs.

When you are working on a Big Year, you’re regularly forced to solve something like an algebraic equation with variables like RTS (remaining target species), EN (the effort necessary to get into proper habitat), SW (season/weather), and PD (probability of detection). One evening in May, while already working in South Texas, the equation finally worked out in my favor. It was spring, a big rain had come, and I could catch up on sleep later – it was “go time.”

Gilbert is a friend of mine that studies rare South Texas frogs as part of his Master’s project at the University of Texas-San Antonio. Gilbert has some survey sites sprinkled within Starr County and graciously provided me with some coaching on where I might listen and look for target frogs. At the first stop, I was immediately listening to a wonderful chorus that included Sheep Frog and White-lipped Frogs, among others – both big South Texas specialty species I was hoping for. However, just as wonderful and incredibly serendipitous, was my first in-person meeting with a fellow naturalist, Andrew Austin. 

At the time, Andrew – @thetexasnaturlist – was wrapping up his college work at Texas A&M. I’d gotten to know him and shared a few notes with Andrew through social media over the years. I knew Andrew as a thirsty naturalist that seemed to ramble the state as much I do, maybe more – and that is impressive! That night, roadside beside a smalltown church, Andrew and I linked up for an adventure that would not end until nearly 4:00 in the morning. We caravanned around the countryside, stopping to listen intently from roadside points, and we heard a handful of Mexican Burrowing Toads calling across the inaccessible rangelands and thorn scrub. However, hearing and seeing are two different things, and I knew that we would commit the EN (effort necessary) to hold one of these animals in our hands. 

That night, I learned that the call of these frogs could carry a surprisingly long way. At one point, we thought we were just a few hundred yards away from a pair of calling frogs. After a few repetitions of driving, pulling over, and re-triangulating – we realized that the calling frogs were almost a mile away, but after getting perilously close to tapping out, Andrew was able to secure a roadside frog for us. There were congratulatory hugs and high fives, lots of photographs, and a shared memory I’ll long remember. 

Andrew and I have become closer friends since this chance encounter. I admire the heck out of him, and I’m grateful we were able to connect several times during my big year effort. As I mentioned above, Andrew is a thinking naturalist and thirsty for knowledge and experience – these character traits create strong kinship within our community. 

1. Western Pygmy Rattlesnake – Sistrurus miliarius

This is one of the animals I’ve most coveted seeing in Texas – an uncommon, secretive, and almost diminutive rattlesnake. These little rattlesnakes are spotty across their Texas range outside of a couple of strongholds. I have herping friends that have searched in habitat for years and have not been able to turn one up. The attraction of this animal (for me, at least) has something to do with its beautiful patterning, small size, and the challenge in finding them – all of which decidedly make the Pygmy Rattlesnake an East Texas “grail” species. 

A few years ago, Erin and I started working with the National Park Service to conduct bird surveys at Big Thicket National Preserve. These surveys prompted us to get to know a new and unique region of the state. The survey protocols also afforded plenty of time to explore the woods and make day trips (and night trips) naturalizing after the morning bird surveys concluded. Like the birds and birding, the herps and herping introduced me to the distinctively different assemblages of wildlife from my regular haunts of West Texas, the Hill Country, and the Rio Grande Valley. Eventually, the work became too much for just Erin and me to handle, and I began including my best friend, brother, and fellow naturalist, Lee Kothmann, on these surveys. 

Together and over the years, the three of us have made wonderful landowner connections, seen a lot of the quiet corners of the Preserve, and marveled at what all the Big Thicket offers. We’ve also left gallons of sweat and an alarming amount of blood out there. These shared experiences – glory and pain – among friends only deepen the connection and affirms the durable bond.

Like the Reticulated Gecko I described previously, we would make regular forrays out road-cruising at night. On a couple of occasions, we would make a trek up to the National Forest land north of our study sites in hopes of observing some new herp species for my big year – especially Timber Rattlesnake. We had enjoyed hiking this forest habitat on a few occasions during the day – it is beautiful habitat – but we’d never had much luck finding snakes. That all changed at dusk in mid-June. 

An amazing sequence of events began with me saying, “We’ll never find the Pygmy Rattlesnake that we don’t get out and look for.” I had just flipped on the LED light bar on my truck. It was that weird time of transition when it was getting dark and difficult to see, but the remaining ambient light drowned out the effect of the light bar. Complaining about this in my head, I almost didn’t notice the slender snake stretched out on the margin of the forest road. However, I saw the snake and recognition set at the same moment that I stepped out of my truck to investigate. I was completely overwhelmed. The Barred Owls were first silenced and then answered my excited yells and “WOOO!!!”s. Erin knew immediately by my response. The three of us sat staring at that animal in complete wonder. I don’t know that I could have asked for a more perfect introduction to this animal than to be in a special place, doing special work, with my wife and best friend, whom I love so much. Above all, this is the moment, the observation, and the animal that will always bring a smile to my face and that I will point out at the most meaningful experience during my herping Texas big year.

Bonus – Panhandle Herping during an Active Monsoon Season!

2021 was a great year for the Texas Panhandle. I made a brief run up there to see and hear lekking Lesser Prairie-Chickens during early spring. The conditions were incredibly dry, and I didn’t see much herp activity outside Plains Leopard Frog (#55). Fast forward a few months, and the region had been completely transformed by summer monsoons and the accompanying rain. It looked like a once-in-a-decade year of rain, and I couldn’t miss it.

That is where another one of my best friends comes in. Greg was probably my biggest cheerleader and supporter during this big year effort outside of my wife, Erin. He regularly checked in for status updates, brainstormed new spots and species to target, and even joined me on a couple of memorable trips. One of these trips was a July hotshot (one full day of herping) to the southern Panhandle or High Plains ecoregion, where we hoped to see a handful of specialty herps – especially amphibians. 

Greg and I have a lot of fun, dumb, and fantastic stories that begin the same way this trip started – with a full tank of gas, plenty of coffee, and two dudes who want to see some wildlife. Almost all of these trips have high hopes of herping bliss – a lot have met that expectation, others not so much – but it is almost always the mundane tasks, like feeding ourselves, that become most memorable. Like when I warmed up cold brew coffee in a cast-iron skillet that the night before had been used for cooking hot dogs – without cleaning. That experience provided interesting flavor profiles to accompany our needed morning caffeine dose. (In my defense, I didn’t realize that cold-brewed coffee was meant to be consumed cold!). On this trip, I was cooking hot dogs over a propane stove. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that sentence until I mention that I had forgotten my pan and cooking utensils and had to settle on slowly turning the hotdogs over the direct flame, rotisserie-style, with my bare hands while sitting cross-legged in the back of a Kroger’s parking lot. The worst part was when Greg questioned how sanitary my process was, considering I had been holding various frogs and lizards throughout the day. We had no problem scarfing down three hotdogs each. 

This trip was made excellent by the expert guidance that another great friend, Drew Harvey, provided us. Drew picked us up from the Kroger’s parking lot and put us on just about every species on the hit list that evening, including Prairie Rattlesnake (#129), Woodhouse’s Toad (#131), Western Tiger Salamander (#132), and ended a very late night with Plains Spadefoot (#133). 

I don’t think you can say enough good things about friends that support your interests and hobbies. I recognize that some of these folks are our friends because of our shared interests, but their character and quality make these friendships deep and meaningful. My herping big year effort spotlighted this concept: my closest friends and family are composed of people of incredible quality and have only made me better and more enriched, whatever the pursuit. Thank you all.