Photograph by April Brown
Anole Annals has featured a series of posts on three-legged lizards over the years (e.g., here and here). Now we need help. Some time around 2017, April Brown contributed a photo of a brown anole missing both of its forelegs. The photo was taken in Winter Park, FL. We’d like to contact April, but can’t locate her. Can anyone solve the mystery?
A clip of a much longer video:
Two anoles, the ubiquitous Jamaican (Graham’s, Anolis grahami), which adorns every wall in Bermuda, and the seldom seen Barbados (A. extremus), just an occasional shadow in the shade, somehow finding themselves on the desirable territory of my bedroom window. They never came to blows, but the latter was definitely the winner, the Jamaican eventually retreating with his tail between his legs (metaphorically) after 8 minutes of posturing.
For more on the introduced anoles of Bermuda, see previous AA posts (here and here).
Photo by Wendy Frith
I live in Bermuda.
Many years ago, my daughter and I witnessed a large male Graham’s anole devour a small female, same species. We were horrified as we had watched these particular individuals so often we’d named them…the male was Pat Rafter as he spent much of his time up by the porch ceiling light catching bugs there; the victim was Porsche, because she was always on the porch wall railing.
One day, I heard a scream from the porch…not from the lizard, but from my daughter: “Pat is eating Porsche!” and I arrived in time to see him sitting in her favorite spot with her back-half still protruding from his mouth. After the final gulp, he sat basking in the sun for a long time, then waddled off leaving an extra-long turd behind. My daughter and I went over and addressed it, with many apologies. We hadn’t known he was not just merely blue (and turquoise and purple) but was a reptilian Bluebeard…in fact, even worse: a Cannibal Bluebeard!
On the other side of the house there was a male I named Brown (because a friend of mine had a brown dog he’d named Purple). I taught him to accept food from my finger, and to come to the bathroom window when I whistled Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto #3 in G. He’s the one pictured at the top and bottom of this post.
Drawing by Wendy Frith.
I dislike textbooks. I still remember the dismay as an undergraduate student of spending all that money to buy hugely expensive textbooks. And if there was any sense of excitement on cracking the cover of a textbook for a new course, it was soon scuttled by pages and pages of dense, dry text.
Now, as an educator, the cost of textbooks is still concerning but it’s their dubious pedagogical value that has led me to ditch them entirely from the courses I teach. Textbooks are great reference sources, but poor learning aids. They cover far too much material, often lack real-world context, and rarely illustrate the scientific process that led to a discovery.
There’s quite a bit of research in education showing that textbooks are not only considered boring by students, but students often struggle to recall and synthesize information obtained from them. Today’s students don’t read compulsory textbooks because the information they are more used to accessing is visually-based, focussed pieces of content online. So it isn’t really surprising that students have an aversion to reading course texts. This aversion is considered by many educators as one of the most critical issues plaguing higher education today.
Maybe you couldn’t care less about what undergraduates get up to (or not get up to). Maybe you’re just interested in learning cool things about animals, like anoles (obviously, and fair enough!). In any case, check out the soft release of the free graphic novel, Understanding Animal Behaviour.
Anolis winstoni from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anolis_oculatus_at_Coulibistrie-b01.jpg
Peter Mudde writes:
I am chairman of Lacerta, the Dutch Herpetological society. I also am a regular contributor to the magazine Lacerta. Lacerta recently made an “Anolis special.” We are preparing a printed English version and we have an internal discussion about the matter below.
In 1962 the late Skip Lazell, a regular contributor to Anole Annals described Anolis oculatus winstoni, stating: “This subspecies is named for Charles A. Winston, Manager of Woodford Hill Estate, and his family.” In recent years, the epithet “winstoni” has been changed to “winstonorum” as that would be he proper grammatical form if the subspecies was indeed named after Winston and his family (Michels and Bauer, 2004). This was critisized by Dubois (2007).
Now I am not familiar with the latest in zoological taxonomy, but I was under the impression that a name once given could not be corrected afterwards. That’s why the American alligator still misses a character in it’s scientific name.
Indeed, the combination Anolis occulatus winstonorum has emerged several times, mainly in non-scientific literature. Now my question is: how do those working with anole taxonomy refer to this subspecies? Your verdicts please.
Anolis trinitatis (https://reptile-database.reptarium.cz/species?genus=Anolis&species=trinitatis)
A couple of my REU students from 2008 “rediscovered” their field notes and want to finish what they didn’t get done that summer. We were on St. Vincent and their project involved time allotment throughout the day by the anoles (Anolis trinitatis and A. griseus) at their study site on the grounds of the botanical gardens in Kingstown. They had done a solid literature review but now need to update it. We have had a hard time finding anything on time budgets published since then. We have found a number of papers on how activity is affected in urban environments but our study site really wasn’t urban (despite the location). So, in brief, I’m wondering if anyone is aware of any studies published since 2009 that examined time budgets in anoles?
From the pages of The Straits Times:
SINGAPORE – In many areas across Singapore, one may find small, slender lizards – sometimes displaying a yellow or reddish orange flap under their throats – if one looks intently enough.
These lizards, which can be found on the ground or trees, are called brown anoles (Anolis sagrei), and they have been spotted at an increasing frequency across the island.
The catch is: They are not supposed to be here.
The brown anole is found naturally in the Bahamas, Cuba and the Swan Islands.
It is one of two introduced species – the other being the greenhouse frog (Eleutherodactylus planirostris) – that have been seen here more often, and in more places.
The greenhouse frog is native to the Bahamas, Cuba and the Cayman Islands.
In March, two brown anoles were spotted on the balcony of a residential unit in Sembawang.
Introduced species are plants or animals that are not naturally found in Singapore.
They can be considered invasive when their presence causes harmful impacts on the local environment. This could happen if, for instance, they outcompete native species due to a lack of natural predators, high reproductive rates and adaptability to different environmental conditions.
The National Parks Board (NParks) told The Straits Times that it is aware of the presence of the brown anole and greenhouse frog in Singapore, and that it is monitoring the situation.
Dr Karenne Tun, group director for NParks’ National Biodiversity Centre, said the brown anole has outcompeted the native green anole in the US state of Florida, and in Taiwan it has impacted local arthropod – invertebrate animals with an exoskeleton – communities in betelnut palm plantations. In Hawaii and other parts of the US, the greenhouse frog has also been documented as invasive, she added.
However, there is no evidence that these species have significantly impacted local ecosystems so far, said Dr Tun.
Observers believe the two Caribbean species came into Singapore by “piggybacking” on exotic plants that were brought in by the horticultural sector.
Dr Alex Figueroa, executive secretary of the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature based at Lee Kong Chian Natural History Museum at NUS, said brown anoles continue to be introduced throughout the island, via plants imported by nurseries.
“At this moment, brown anoles do not appear to be invasive in Singapore,” said the reptile and amphibian researcher.
He said that most of the lizards found here are bigger than the brown anole – which is usually about 12cm to 21cm long – and either live on the ground or high in the trees. Meanwhile, brown anoles prefer warm, open grassy areas and the lower parts of trees and shrubs.
According to a report by Nature in Singapore, an online journal of the Lee Kong Chian Natural History Museum, brown anoles were observed and recorded in Singapore for the first time in 2012, when they were sighted at Gardens by the Bay.
“The many individuals, hatchlings and courtship activities observed at the Gardens by the Bay strongly suggest that the brown anole has already established a population in Singapore, at least within Marina Bay,” said the report, adding that it is the first reptile from the Americas that has done so there.
Years later, they continue to be spotted in different parts of the island, such as in Bishan in 2015, Jurong Lake Gardens in 2020 and Chua Chu Kang in 2022.
When The Straits Times visited Gardens by the Bay in March, a brown anole was spotted perched on a tree trunk near the Bayfront MRT station. Subsequently, 11 more were spotted in less than 1½ hours.
As for the greenhouse frog, the first sighting of the small amphibian – its length ranges from about 12mm to 30mm – was recorded in Sembawang in 2015. These creatures were also spotted in Clementi Woods and Dairy Farm Nature Park in 2017.
While a population study has yet to be done on the greenhouse frog in Singapore, Mr Robbin Tan, a scientific officer at the Herpetological Society of Singapore (HSS), said: “Today, the greenhouse frog is widespread across Singapore, including within our Central Catchment Nature Reserve… We can ascertain that there are plenty of breeding populations established in Singapore.”
Mr Tan said the greenhouse frog has successfully established populations throughout Hawaii, Hong Kong and the Philippines. Its global spread has been primarily driven by the plant trade, he added.
Dr Figueroa said that while it is hard to estimate their population without properly studying the frog, it is “safe to say” that they can be found throughout Singapore, and in some areas, they can be found in large numbers, although this is difficult to tell given how tiny they are.
While the frog can be found widely across the island, it remains to be seen if they are harmful to the native species due to lack of evidence, experts said.
However, Associate Professor Darren Yeo, head of the Lee Kong Chian Natural History Museum at NUS, said they may be considered potentially invasive, as they are already widespread in Singapore, and can spread rapidly.
Greenhouse frogs skip the tadpole stage entirely, and their eggs develop into frogs. This also means that, unlike other frogs, they do not need water bodies to breed, which enhances their ability to spread, he said.
HSS’ Mr Tan added that due to its small size, habitat and diet, the greenhouse frog may also compete with native chorus frog species, especially since both can be found in similar places, like secondary forests and leaf litter.
Ms Tricia Cho, a research assistant at Lee Kong Chian Natural History Museum at NUS, who has done research on greenhouse frogs, said more research and monitoring could be done to assess their population status and quantify any negative effects they might bring to the local ecosystem.
HSS’ Mr Tan said that public education campaigns and citizen science programmes encourage people to report sightings, avoid releasing non-native pets, and support conservation efforts.
Besides regular monitoring and early detection, he said that restoring native habitats and reducing human disturbances strengthen ecosystem resilience, making it harder for non-native and invasive species to establish.
Prof Yeo said that most invasive and non-native species in Singapore tend to be found in more urban or artificial habitat areas and less in more forested and natural habitat areas.
“This could reflect a preference for urban or artificial systems or a resistance by the native communities in natural systems,” he said. “If it’s the latter, we can help prevent invasive species from affecting the ecosystems by keeping as much of the ecosystems and their faunal and floral communities as intact as possible.”
Anolis carolinensis (Green Anole) in the City of Norfolk (photo by Zachary Steele).
Growing up in Florida, I was used to seeing Green Anoles, so when I moved to Virginia to start my PhD at Old Dominion University, I wasn’t surprised to see Green Anoles venturing around Norfolk. If anything, seeing the familiar anoles for the first time in the Summer of 2021 gave me a warm feeling of home. However, several months later, I began to realize that I was only seeing these anoles in one specific location. When my friends and colleagues (such as my coauthors Antonella Panebianco and Karen Caceres) would join me on trips to a nearby public beach, we’d always see the anoles as we parked and made our way to the beach, but we never saw the anoles anywhere else. At this point, I began to realize that I’d never really looked closely at the native range of the Green Anole; I knew it extended into North Carolina, and I assumed Virginia as well based off our sightings, but I had never confirmed this. As a result, one day, after returning home from this beach, I found myself researching the native range of the Green Anole…and was shocked to uncover that the anole was not native to Virginia. Instead, I learned that while the anole population had been spreading north towards the North Carolina-Virginia border (although it’s unclear whether this was natural or expansion through introductions) over the last 60 years, the range had not yet expanded into Virginia. I also quickly determined that there was another non-native population of these anoles in Virginia Beach, roughly 20 miles east of the population that we had located.
After gathering this information, we began to put more effort into documenting this population via iNaturalist. This led to us realizing that the extent of this anole population (~ 35 acres) was larger than we previously perceived, and we also observed juvenile anoles which revealed that this was likely a breeding population. Additionally, through these efforts, we also realized other users had reported anoles from this introduced population on iNaturalist, with reports dating back to 2019. All this evidence suggested that this anole population had likely endured several winters and indicated that this was an established non-native population. While Norfolk can have some relatively harsh winters, these winters aren’t very different from the northernmost native range of the anole in Tennessee and North Carolina. Our observations also indicated that there wasn’t much potential for predation and competition for these introduced anoles, which suggested that this population has the potential to continue to grow.
Through this process, what we gathered was that it’s always a good idea to confirm the extent of a species’ native range. Documenting both natural range expansion and range expansion through human introductions is critical, and anyone can contribute to these efforts using platforms like iNaturalist and EDDMapS. Quickly uploading an observation to these types of platforms can really benefit the research community!
Check out the publication in Northeastern Naturalist for more information!
Hello Anole Annals community,
We apologize for any strange or unexpected posts you may have received via email in the last hour or so. We’re currently looking into the issue, but it appears that either WordPress or the Anole Annals blog may have been hacked. We have taken down these confusing posts and hope to get to the bottom of the issue soon.
Thank you for your understanding.
from the pages of The Washington Post:
Scientists are studying natural selection in real time on a small Florida island.
Our research takes place on a South Florida island roughly the size of an American football field — assuming we are successful in sidestepping the American crocodiles that bask in the surrounding lake. We call it Lizard Island, and it’s a special place.
Since 2015, we have been conducting evolutionary research here on five species of remarkable lizards called anoles. Our team is working to understand one of biology’s most fundamental questions: How does natural selection drive evolution in real time?
Each May, coinciding with the start of the breeding season, we visit Lizard Island to capture, study and release all adult anoles — a population that fluctuates between 600 to 1,000. Through the summer, female anoles lay a single egg every seven to 10 days. By October, a whole new generation has emerged.
Anoles aren’t early risers, so we don’t expect much activity until the sun strengthens about 9:30 a.m., giving us time to prepare our equipment. Our team catches anoles with telescopic fishing poles fitted with little lassos, which we use to gently pluck the lizards off branches and tree trunks.
Picture yourself as an anole on Lizard Island. Your life is short — typically one year — and filled with daily challenges. You need to warm up in the sun, find enough food to survive, search for a mate, guard your favorite branch from other lizards and avoid being eaten by a predator.
Like human beings, each lizard is unique. Some have longer legs, others stronger jaws, and all behave slightly differently. These differences could determine who survives and who doesn’t, as well as who has the most babies and who doesn’t.
These outcomes drive evolution by natural selection, the process in which organisms with traits better suited to their environment tend to survive and reproduce more. These advantageous traits are then passed on to future generations, gradually changing the species over time. However, scientists have an incomplete understanding of exactly how each of these features predicts life’s winners and losers in the wild.
To understand how species evolve, researchers need to crack open this black box of evolution and investigate natural selection in wild populations. My colleagues and I are doing this by studying the anoles in exquisite detail. Last year was especially exciting: We ran what we called the Lizard Olympics.
As the morning heat builds, we spot our first lizards: Cuban brown anoles near to the ground, and the mottled scales of Hispaniolan bark anoles just above them. Farther up, in the leafy tree canopies, are American green anoles and the largest species, the Cuban knight anole, about the size of a newborn kitten.
In 2018, a new challenger entered the arena — the Puerto Rican crested anole, a species present in Miami that hadn’t yet made it to Lizard Island. Its arrival provided us with an unexpected opportunity to study how species may evolve in real time in response to a new neighbor.
Catching these agile athletes requires patience and precision. With our modified fishing poles, we carefully loop dental floss over their heads. Each capture site is marked with bright pink tape and a unique ID number; all lizards are then transported to our field laboratory a short walk away.
Here, the real Olympic trials begin. Every athlete goes through a comprehensive evaluation. Our portable X-ray machine reveals their skeletal structure, and high-resolution scans capture the intricate details of their feet. This is particularly critical: Like their gecko cousins, anoles possess sticky toes that allow them to cling to smooth surfaces such as leaves and maybe even to survive hurricanes.
We also measure the shape and sharpness of their claws, as both features are crucial for these tree climbers. DNA samples provide a genetic fingerprint for each individual, allowing us to map family relationships across the island and see which is the most reproductively successful.
The performance trials are where things get interesting. Imagine a tiny track meet for lizards. Using high-speed video cameras, we test how fast each lizard runs, and using specialist equipment, we measure how hard it bites and how strong it grips rough branches and smooth leaves.
These aren’t arbitrary measurements — each represents a potential evolutionary advantage. Fast lizards might better escape predators. Strong bites might determine winners in territorial disputes. Excellent grip is crucial for tree canopy acrobatics.
Each measurement helps us answer fundamental questions about evolution: Do faster lizards live longer? Do stronger biters produce more offspring? These are the essential metrics of evolution by natural selection.
As afternoon approaches, the team relocates each piece of bright pink tape and returns the corresponding lizard to the exact branch on which it was caught. The anoles now sport two 3-millimeter tags with a unique code that lets us identify it when we recapture it in future research trips, along with a small dot of white nail polish so we know not to catch it immediately after we let it go.
At 8:30 p.m., with the Lizard Olympics done for the day, we return to the island with headlamps. Night brings a different perspective. Some of the most wily lizards are difficult to catch when fully charged by the midday sun, so our nocturnal jaunts allow us to find them while they sleep. However, it’s often a race against time. Lizard-eating corn snakes are also out hunting, trying to find the anoles before we do. As we wrap up another 16-hour day at about 11:30 p.m., the team shares stories of the night.
Now spanning 10 years, 10 generations and five species, our Lizard Island dataset represents one of the longest-running active studies of its kind in evolutionary biology. Such long-term studies are fundamental to our understanding of evolution. By tracking which individuals survive and reproduce, and linking their success to specific physical traits and performance abilities, we are documenting natural selection with unprecedented detail.
So far we have uncovered two fascinating patterns. Initially, it did not pay to be different on Lizard Island. Anoles with very average shapes and sizes lived longer than those with features that are slightly different. But when the crested anoles arrived, everything changed: Suddenly, brown anoles with longer legs had a survival advantage.
The Lizard Olympics is helping us understand why. The larger, more aggressive crested anoles are forcing brown anoles to spend more time on the ground, where those with longer legs might run faster to escape predators — allowing them to better survive and pass on their long-leg genes, while shorter-legged anoles might be eaten before they can reproduce.
By watching natural selection unfold in response to environmental changes, rather than inferring it from fossil records, we are providing cutting-edge evidence for evolutionary processes about which Charles Darwin could only theorize.
These long days of observation are slowly revealing one of biology’s most fundamental processes. Every lizard we catch, every measurement we take adds another piece to our understanding of how species adapt and evolve in an ever-changing world.
James T. Stroud is an assistant professor of ecology and evolution at the Georgia Institute of Technology.
This article was produced in collaboration with theconversation.com.
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