Batrachoseps Or Bust
Posted: April 27th, 2024, 1:44 pm
YouTube companion videos for this post (2):
1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnQvmP7 ... e=youtu.be
2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydB3xkBEVmE&t=45s
When a young man asked legendary newspaper editor Horace Greeley in the 1800s what he should do with his life, Greeley replied, "Go West young man, go west and see as many Batrachoseps as you can in as little time as possible." Okay, so he didn't say that. He allegedly said "Go West and grow up with the rest of the country." But I took a trip late this February the speed and intensity of which followed the first fictitious line much more closely.
The past two times I have visited California, I have fallen in love, at least inasmuch as it is possible to apply this phrasing to a place rather than a person. The incredible diversity of habitats (rain-drenched redwoods, simmering deserts, shimmering, snow-capped Sierras, chapparal hills, sycamore canyons and eucalyptus groves, rushing rivers, etc.), the foliage (California poppies, green grass everywhere covering the hills after the winter rains), the sense of freedom and wide-open spaces, the realization that you're at the western edge of Western civilization (no offense, Hawaii), have blown me away every time. This third foray to the Golden State continued that trend.
I had this on my calendar for a while: February 2024, time to hit Southern California for the first time, to get south of Monterey and try for my three remaining Ensatinas, a boatload of Slenders and a few snakes. The trip started inauspiciously, as I left my wallet at my place of work in a coat that I had placed on the back of my door and didn't think to take in the afternoon, as the temperature had climbed considerably. The TSA would probably be nonplussed with my answers to "why don't you have an ID!!" Luckily, I noticed the mistake 45 minutes into my drive rather than an hour and a half, and called to get a coworker to bring me my wallet, then speeding on to the Kansas City airport, making my flight by about 15 minutes. Trip-wrecking blunder narrowly avoided.
Once landed at LAX, I picked up my rental car, thew on the radio as I started north toward the mountains, and nearly bust out laughing as Jason Aldean's "Big Green Tractor" came blaring through the radio incongruously, contrasting hilariously with the scenery around me: the illuminated Getty Art museum, the haunting black shadows of palm trees, the whir and growl of other cars doing 100mph+ on the nearly empty freeway at midnight. I had just played that song on guitar the day before leaving for California! The drive north toward Bakersfield (I had decided to camp out near my first Kern/Tulare County Batrachoseps spot rather than try for B. gabrieli first thing in the morning) was lovely, with the snow-capped Tehachapi Mountains towering in the distance, the moon shining brilliantly off the snow while classic country and warm air filled the cabin and my ears popped just before Fort Tejon, where I-5 then drops into the more semiarid plateau that becomes the San Joaquin Valley. I could see the lights of Bakersfield well over 30 miles away and was awestruck at the expansiveness of the terrain into which I was dropping. Around 1:30am, I stopped for some refreshments at a travel station just south of Bakersfield, and splurged on some late night/early morning dried fruits (dried kiwi and mango, both of which were fantastic) and an Arnold Palmer iced tea to keep me going for the last hour and change of the ride into the Lake Isabella area.
Even at night, the majesty and imposing nature of the Kern River Canyon were evident while driving CA 178 from Bakersfield to the lake. The action would start the next morning. With the Golden State having received several inches of rain over the last 10 days and temperatures forecast to stay in the 60-75 range, I felt optimistic.
After a fitful few hours of sleep, I set out on Thursday for my first endemic Batrachoseps and found it after about a half hour under a small piece of roadside talus: B. bramei, the Fairview Slender Salamander. I was surprised by the dry conditions that surrounded this species' microhabitat--it was obvious that at any other time of year, even this little salamander's slightly wetter, cooler domain would be blazing hot, in direct sunlight. I was mind-blown to find one, and I was glad that my freezing hands (it was 37F, very cold to flip rocks even with gloves)!
Fairview Slender Salamander, Tulare County, CA
After photographing and videoing some of the absolutely magisterial scenery of the Kern River Canyon on the way out and a quick judgment that from the snowline, it was WAY too early to try for B. altasierrae, I headed into the Kern Canyon in search of Yellow-blotched Ensatinas at several pull-offs along stream ravines and oak woods, but saw nothing in the way of herps whatsoever despite the wonderful sights (including seeing Lake Isabella in the daytime surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and re-driving the Kern Canyon in full daylight in awe of the canyon's depth and beauty).
Heading further south, I tried a spot after lunch for B. stebbinsi and Yellow-blotched Ensatinas, hiking to the top of a huge, grassy hill that looked out on the oak woodlands and hills, but again found nothing. Heading further south again toward B. gabrieli, I discovered two things: most LA radio stations are in Spanish (which allowed me to practice my Spanish while listening to evangelists (who speak slowly no matter the language apparently) discuss the nature of Mary and the "iglesia modernista"), and when people from LA complain about the traffic, they aren't kidding. The stories of it taking an hour to advance ten miles at non-rush hour are true! Upon reaching my high-elevation talus slopes to look for San Gabriels, it was 45 degrees instead of the 70+ degrees now prevailing on the valley floor. The rushing waters, the steepness of the mountains around me, the weird prevalence of yuccas at such high elevation, it was all surreal. I spent about an hour hunting, but did not see any salamanders, and as nightfall would soon be closing in (as my appetite already was), I made my way down the mountain and toward the next day's spots for Monterey and Large-blotched Ensatinas.
Stopping at a motel in Temecula, I had only one lifer under my belt for day one, but it was still an amazing day, filled with some of the most beautiful country I had ever seen, and with a few bonus critters (there were some odd turkey-shaped birds crossing the road near Lake Isabella). Chatting that night with my girlfriend back in Missouri, I heard a Baja California treefrog calling from a palm tree outside my motel room, but couldn't pin it down and instead slumped into bed, exhausted after a long but good day and a dinner of granola bars and apples from walmart, along with the last of my dried kiwi.
Friday started with a bang and didn't end with a whimper, to paraphrase T.S. Elliot. First thing after having breakfast at the motel, I went up on a well-known mountain for Ensatinas, passing a beautiful procession of orange groves, fog-covered mountains between the valley Indian reservations dotting northern San Diego County and slowly ascending the mountain to, again, Spanish radio (this time, it was a Mexican government radio station broadcasting out of nearby Tijuana, including a talk show making jokes about Lent, advertisements for maintaining tariffs against Venezuelan and Columbian bananas and encouraging Mexicans to buy their own country's produce, and a children's show on animal noises). On the mountaintop, some snow still dotted the hillsides here and there, and it took me the better part of an hour to turn up a juvenile of my most-wanted salamander for the trip: the lovely Large-blotched Ensatina!!
Large-blotched Ensatina, San Diego County, CA
Down the mountain, it was now hitting the high 60s, and I got some more dried mangoes at a local Indian reservation supply store (across the street from a casino, of course) before meeting up with Blaine, a fellow who runs a YT channel for his finds like I do and lives on one of the local Indian reservations. Due to the fact that none of the sites we visited that day to flip and hike are my own, I don't want to even give descriptions of them (over-herping is a serious problem in California, much more than other parts of the country), but suffice it to say we had a wonderful day together herping and chatting about myriad subjects (history of his tribe, the herping in each region, favorite species, etc.), and the snake, lizard, and frog lifers we found made the trip. I am extremely grateful he was willing to meet and hope he can visit the Ozarks to get some Lampropeltis lifers of his own sometime! Herping is never more fun than when you're with a fellow hobbyist, with whom you have an instant connection. The results of that day are as follow in pictures:
California Striped Racer, or "Chapparal Whipsnake," San Diego County, CA
Red Diamond Rattler, San Diego County, CA
Same Rattler, San Diego County, CA
California Kingsnake, San Diego County, CA
Coastal Rosy Boa, San Diego County, CA
Me with Rosy Boa
San Diego Alligator Lizard, San Diego County, CA
San Diego Banded Gecko, San Diego County, CA
Striped California Kingsnake, San Diego County, CA
San Diego Gophersnake, San Diego County, CA
California Glossy Snake, San Diego County, CA
Gilbert's Skink, San Diego County, CA
Not a bad 6-8 hours of herping!! Surprisingly, we didn't turn up a Garden Slender Salamander, but that is small reason to complain when the reptile haul above just happened!! With that, I drove back north through Corona and the inland valleys of San Bernadino/Riverside County, back past Tejon Pass, and all the way to the outskirts of Sequioa National Park, at the margin of the San Joaquin Valley at a little Airbnb that looked out toward the towering foothills and Sierras behind them.
The next morning, I got up early and started in toward the national park, again marveling at the sight of the almond, orange, and lemon trees I passed en route to the treeless foothills and the towering, lush mountains beyond, snow still well down their slopes. At a trail paralleling a river, I struck out after going a little ways but deciding to try again some other March or April rather than continue hiking alone in bear and mountain lion country when I was already a mile from the car (the cold didn't help either!). But slightly lower in elevation, I scored a neat little salamander, the third new salamander of the trip, in a Sycamore grove along a stream through otherwise open habitat:
Gregarious Slender Salamander, Tulare County, CA
After stopping for some chocolate-covered oreos, almonds, and some postcards from a store in Three Rivers, I headed back out to the Valley, now foggy from the high humidity and rising temperatures, and sent some postcards back East from a post office in Selma, CA. I cannot emphasize how breathtaking the San Joaquin Valley in spring is, despite the often depressing nature of the towns and mid-size cities within it. The drive up from Frenso to the vicinity of my next spot was dazzling, but I had a feeling this next shot was (while necessary) a fool's errand, as it hadn't rained in several days now on the limestone talus that I planned to try for H. brunus. The raven ominously cawing from behind me and circling didn't help my mood or estimation of my chances. WRONG!!!
Limestone Salamander, Mariposa County, CA
I flipped this stunning juvenile Limestone Sally, my first Hydromantes specimen, under a surprisingly small stone about a half hour in, and after almost sliding down an embankment of talus despite my vastly improved balance over the last couple years (losing 80 lb. will do that!). I was euphoric, in disbelief that this long-shot of a salamander was actually out on the surface after a few days in the 70s and low 80s since the last rain!
Ten minutes after a LONG photo shoot and video session with the Limestone Salamander, I then flipped this next Batrachoseps, the Hell Hollow Slender Salamander, frequently found alongside the Limestone Salamanders in similar environs. Though it was a three-hour drive to come hit this spot from Three Rivers, it was well worth it!! With the exception of the Large-blotched Ensatina, these were the two best salamanders of the trip!
Hell Hollow Slender Salamander, Mariposa County, CA
Another three-hour stunner of a secluded drive away while listening to 105.5 Cat Country and hearing Mariah Carey's "Always Be My Baby" for the first time (I normally hate pop, but this song seemed to fit California well), to wrap up the day, I flipped this little guy in a shaded little oasis at roadside where water seeps through after torrents (again, like the Fairview Slender, the habitat surrounding its little oasis is shockingly dry for a salamander):
Kings River Slender Salamander, Fresno County, CA
What a day! I came down out of the Sierras slowly, agonizingly slowly, into the flatter, cultivated lemon and orange ground just east of Fresno, then threw on the Eagles and Julio Iglesias's "Moonlight Lady," watched the prettiest moonrise I have ever seen over the Sierra Nevada in the eastern distance, had dinner in Visalia, and slept soundly at my Bakersfield Airbnb after the trip's best day of salamander-hunting. What a day.
Day four, Sunday, was a shortened one, as I had to be back at the airport just past noon and started out from Bakersfield. I started with a 4:30am PCT/7:30am EST chat with a friend living on the East Coast, as we both had time and I couldn't sleep anyway, then I gave the Kern Canyon another try at first daylight around 6am to try for Yellow-blotched Ensatina, but again came up empty-handed and headed back into the valley, down I-5, past Tejon Pass, Pyramid Lake and the majestic Tehachapis one more time, and made one last stop in an open-terrained Pasadena City Park (the "bougie"-est place I have EVER herped). Under the second small downed oak log, there sat my quarry, and the last herp of the trip, as the joggers and immaculately-dressed park-goers went about their business, probably completely unaware of this little amphibian in their presence every day, under almost every log in the park:
Black-bellied Slender Salamander, Los Angeles County, CA
After lunch at a Jack in the Box (there was no In-N-Out in convenient range), I headed back to LAX, got an Uber to the terminal after dropping off the rental car (the Uber driver was listening to, fittingly, "Want to Go Home" by Blake Shelton, but some sort of Euro cover of it), and slept easily on the flight back to KC. Seven salamanders and a gaggle of reptiles to kick of 2024--not too shabby!
So long for now, California. It won't be long until I am back again to see those other Ensatinas and Batrachoseps.
Thanks for reading, and happy herping you all!
1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnQvmP7 ... e=youtu.be
2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydB3xkBEVmE&t=45s
When a young man asked legendary newspaper editor Horace Greeley in the 1800s what he should do with his life, Greeley replied, "Go West young man, go west and see as many Batrachoseps as you can in as little time as possible." Okay, so he didn't say that. He allegedly said "Go West and grow up with the rest of the country." But I took a trip late this February the speed and intensity of which followed the first fictitious line much more closely.
The past two times I have visited California, I have fallen in love, at least inasmuch as it is possible to apply this phrasing to a place rather than a person. The incredible diversity of habitats (rain-drenched redwoods, simmering deserts, shimmering, snow-capped Sierras, chapparal hills, sycamore canyons and eucalyptus groves, rushing rivers, etc.), the foliage (California poppies, green grass everywhere covering the hills after the winter rains), the sense of freedom and wide-open spaces, the realization that you're at the western edge of Western civilization (no offense, Hawaii), have blown me away every time. This third foray to the Golden State continued that trend.
I had this on my calendar for a while: February 2024, time to hit Southern California for the first time, to get south of Monterey and try for my three remaining Ensatinas, a boatload of Slenders and a few snakes. The trip started inauspiciously, as I left my wallet at my place of work in a coat that I had placed on the back of my door and didn't think to take in the afternoon, as the temperature had climbed considerably. The TSA would probably be nonplussed with my answers to "why don't you have an ID!!" Luckily, I noticed the mistake 45 minutes into my drive rather than an hour and a half, and called to get a coworker to bring me my wallet, then speeding on to the Kansas City airport, making my flight by about 15 minutes. Trip-wrecking blunder narrowly avoided.
Once landed at LAX, I picked up my rental car, thew on the radio as I started north toward the mountains, and nearly bust out laughing as Jason Aldean's "Big Green Tractor" came blaring through the radio incongruously, contrasting hilariously with the scenery around me: the illuminated Getty Art museum, the haunting black shadows of palm trees, the whir and growl of other cars doing 100mph+ on the nearly empty freeway at midnight. I had just played that song on guitar the day before leaving for California! The drive north toward Bakersfield (I had decided to camp out near my first Kern/Tulare County Batrachoseps spot rather than try for B. gabrieli first thing in the morning) was lovely, with the snow-capped Tehachapi Mountains towering in the distance, the moon shining brilliantly off the snow while classic country and warm air filled the cabin and my ears popped just before Fort Tejon, where I-5 then drops into the more semiarid plateau that becomes the San Joaquin Valley. I could see the lights of Bakersfield well over 30 miles away and was awestruck at the expansiveness of the terrain into which I was dropping. Around 1:30am, I stopped for some refreshments at a travel station just south of Bakersfield, and splurged on some late night/early morning dried fruits (dried kiwi and mango, both of which were fantastic) and an Arnold Palmer iced tea to keep me going for the last hour and change of the ride into the Lake Isabella area.
Even at night, the majesty and imposing nature of the Kern River Canyon were evident while driving CA 178 from Bakersfield to the lake. The action would start the next morning. With the Golden State having received several inches of rain over the last 10 days and temperatures forecast to stay in the 60-75 range, I felt optimistic.
After a fitful few hours of sleep, I set out on Thursday for my first endemic Batrachoseps and found it after about a half hour under a small piece of roadside talus: B. bramei, the Fairview Slender Salamander. I was surprised by the dry conditions that surrounded this species' microhabitat--it was obvious that at any other time of year, even this little salamander's slightly wetter, cooler domain would be blazing hot, in direct sunlight. I was mind-blown to find one, and I was glad that my freezing hands (it was 37F, very cold to flip rocks even with gloves)!
Fairview Slender Salamander, Tulare County, CA
After photographing and videoing some of the absolutely magisterial scenery of the Kern River Canyon on the way out and a quick judgment that from the snowline, it was WAY too early to try for B. altasierrae, I headed into the Kern Canyon in search of Yellow-blotched Ensatinas at several pull-offs along stream ravines and oak woods, but saw nothing in the way of herps whatsoever despite the wonderful sights (including seeing Lake Isabella in the daytime surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and re-driving the Kern Canyon in full daylight in awe of the canyon's depth and beauty).
Heading further south, I tried a spot after lunch for B. stebbinsi and Yellow-blotched Ensatinas, hiking to the top of a huge, grassy hill that looked out on the oak woodlands and hills, but again found nothing. Heading further south again toward B. gabrieli, I discovered two things: most LA radio stations are in Spanish (which allowed me to practice my Spanish while listening to evangelists (who speak slowly no matter the language apparently) discuss the nature of Mary and the "iglesia modernista"), and when people from LA complain about the traffic, they aren't kidding. The stories of it taking an hour to advance ten miles at non-rush hour are true! Upon reaching my high-elevation talus slopes to look for San Gabriels, it was 45 degrees instead of the 70+ degrees now prevailing on the valley floor. The rushing waters, the steepness of the mountains around me, the weird prevalence of yuccas at such high elevation, it was all surreal. I spent about an hour hunting, but did not see any salamanders, and as nightfall would soon be closing in (as my appetite already was), I made my way down the mountain and toward the next day's spots for Monterey and Large-blotched Ensatinas.
Stopping at a motel in Temecula, I had only one lifer under my belt for day one, but it was still an amazing day, filled with some of the most beautiful country I had ever seen, and with a few bonus critters (there were some odd turkey-shaped birds crossing the road near Lake Isabella). Chatting that night with my girlfriend back in Missouri, I heard a Baja California treefrog calling from a palm tree outside my motel room, but couldn't pin it down and instead slumped into bed, exhausted after a long but good day and a dinner of granola bars and apples from walmart, along with the last of my dried kiwi.
Friday started with a bang and didn't end with a whimper, to paraphrase T.S. Elliot. First thing after having breakfast at the motel, I went up on a well-known mountain for Ensatinas, passing a beautiful procession of orange groves, fog-covered mountains between the valley Indian reservations dotting northern San Diego County and slowly ascending the mountain to, again, Spanish radio (this time, it was a Mexican government radio station broadcasting out of nearby Tijuana, including a talk show making jokes about Lent, advertisements for maintaining tariffs against Venezuelan and Columbian bananas and encouraging Mexicans to buy their own country's produce, and a children's show on animal noises). On the mountaintop, some snow still dotted the hillsides here and there, and it took me the better part of an hour to turn up a juvenile of my most-wanted salamander for the trip: the lovely Large-blotched Ensatina!!
Large-blotched Ensatina, San Diego County, CA
Down the mountain, it was now hitting the high 60s, and I got some more dried mangoes at a local Indian reservation supply store (across the street from a casino, of course) before meeting up with Blaine, a fellow who runs a YT channel for his finds like I do and lives on one of the local Indian reservations. Due to the fact that none of the sites we visited that day to flip and hike are my own, I don't want to even give descriptions of them (over-herping is a serious problem in California, much more than other parts of the country), but suffice it to say we had a wonderful day together herping and chatting about myriad subjects (history of his tribe, the herping in each region, favorite species, etc.), and the snake, lizard, and frog lifers we found made the trip. I am extremely grateful he was willing to meet and hope he can visit the Ozarks to get some Lampropeltis lifers of his own sometime! Herping is never more fun than when you're with a fellow hobbyist, with whom you have an instant connection. The results of that day are as follow in pictures:
California Striped Racer, or "Chapparal Whipsnake," San Diego County, CA
Red Diamond Rattler, San Diego County, CA
Same Rattler, San Diego County, CA
California Kingsnake, San Diego County, CA
Coastal Rosy Boa, San Diego County, CA
Me with Rosy Boa
San Diego Alligator Lizard, San Diego County, CA
San Diego Banded Gecko, San Diego County, CA
Striped California Kingsnake, San Diego County, CA
San Diego Gophersnake, San Diego County, CA
California Glossy Snake, San Diego County, CA
Gilbert's Skink, San Diego County, CA
Not a bad 6-8 hours of herping!! Surprisingly, we didn't turn up a Garden Slender Salamander, but that is small reason to complain when the reptile haul above just happened!! With that, I drove back north through Corona and the inland valleys of San Bernadino/Riverside County, back past Tejon Pass, and all the way to the outskirts of Sequioa National Park, at the margin of the San Joaquin Valley at a little Airbnb that looked out toward the towering foothills and Sierras behind them.
The next morning, I got up early and started in toward the national park, again marveling at the sight of the almond, orange, and lemon trees I passed en route to the treeless foothills and the towering, lush mountains beyond, snow still well down their slopes. At a trail paralleling a river, I struck out after going a little ways but deciding to try again some other March or April rather than continue hiking alone in bear and mountain lion country when I was already a mile from the car (the cold didn't help either!). But slightly lower in elevation, I scored a neat little salamander, the third new salamander of the trip, in a Sycamore grove along a stream through otherwise open habitat:
Gregarious Slender Salamander, Tulare County, CA
After stopping for some chocolate-covered oreos, almonds, and some postcards from a store in Three Rivers, I headed back out to the Valley, now foggy from the high humidity and rising temperatures, and sent some postcards back East from a post office in Selma, CA. I cannot emphasize how breathtaking the San Joaquin Valley in spring is, despite the often depressing nature of the towns and mid-size cities within it. The drive up from Frenso to the vicinity of my next spot was dazzling, but I had a feeling this next shot was (while necessary) a fool's errand, as it hadn't rained in several days now on the limestone talus that I planned to try for H. brunus. The raven ominously cawing from behind me and circling didn't help my mood or estimation of my chances. WRONG!!!
Limestone Salamander, Mariposa County, CA
I flipped this stunning juvenile Limestone Sally, my first Hydromantes specimen, under a surprisingly small stone about a half hour in, and after almost sliding down an embankment of talus despite my vastly improved balance over the last couple years (losing 80 lb. will do that!). I was euphoric, in disbelief that this long-shot of a salamander was actually out on the surface after a few days in the 70s and low 80s since the last rain!
Ten minutes after a LONG photo shoot and video session with the Limestone Salamander, I then flipped this next Batrachoseps, the Hell Hollow Slender Salamander, frequently found alongside the Limestone Salamanders in similar environs. Though it was a three-hour drive to come hit this spot from Three Rivers, it was well worth it!! With the exception of the Large-blotched Ensatina, these were the two best salamanders of the trip!
Hell Hollow Slender Salamander, Mariposa County, CA
Another three-hour stunner of a secluded drive away while listening to 105.5 Cat Country and hearing Mariah Carey's "Always Be My Baby" for the first time (I normally hate pop, but this song seemed to fit California well), to wrap up the day, I flipped this little guy in a shaded little oasis at roadside where water seeps through after torrents (again, like the Fairview Slender, the habitat surrounding its little oasis is shockingly dry for a salamander):
Kings River Slender Salamander, Fresno County, CA
What a day! I came down out of the Sierras slowly, agonizingly slowly, into the flatter, cultivated lemon and orange ground just east of Fresno, then threw on the Eagles and Julio Iglesias's "Moonlight Lady," watched the prettiest moonrise I have ever seen over the Sierra Nevada in the eastern distance, had dinner in Visalia, and slept soundly at my Bakersfield Airbnb after the trip's best day of salamander-hunting. What a day.
Day four, Sunday, was a shortened one, as I had to be back at the airport just past noon and started out from Bakersfield. I started with a 4:30am PCT/7:30am EST chat with a friend living on the East Coast, as we both had time and I couldn't sleep anyway, then I gave the Kern Canyon another try at first daylight around 6am to try for Yellow-blotched Ensatina, but again came up empty-handed and headed back into the valley, down I-5, past Tejon Pass, Pyramid Lake and the majestic Tehachapis one more time, and made one last stop in an open-terrained Pasadena City Park (the "bougie"-est place I have EVER herped). Under the second small downed oak log, there sat my quarry, and the last herp of the trip, as the joggers and immaculately-dressed park-goers went about their business, probably completely unaware of this little amphibian in their presence every day, under almost every log in the park:
Black-bellied Slender Salamander, Los Angeles County, CA
After lunch at a Jack in the Box (there was no In-N-Out in convenient range), I headed back to LAX, got an Uber to the terminal after dropping off the rental car (the Uber driver was listening to, fittingly, "Want to Go Home" by Blake Shelton, but some sort of Euro cover of it), and slept easily on the flight back to KC. Seven salamanders and a gaggle of reptiles to kick of 2024--not too shabby!
So long for now, California. It won't be long until I am back again to see those other Ensatinas and Batrachoseps.
Thanks for reading, and happy herping you all!