Caribbean anoles are renowned for the repeated evolution of ecomorphs, the same set of habitat specialists evolving independently on each island in the Greater Antilles. But what about in mainland Central or South America, where the majority of anole species occur? Mainland anoles have received relatively little research attention, particularly with regard to questions of ecomorphology (but see Alan Pounds’ fabulous paper from 1988), primarily because mainland species are both less abundant than Caribbean taxa as well as more cryptic, making data collection much more difficult. Mainland anoles are, as a first approximation, as diverse ecologically and morphologically as Caribbean anoles, and a preliminary study found that most mainland anoles do not fit neatly into any of the Caribbean ecomorph classes. Now, in a much broader study, Schaad and Poe compared the morphology of 255 species for seven morphological characters: snout-vent length, sexual size dimorphism, femur length, head length, lamella number, snout scale number, and the ratio of tail to snout-vent length. They found that very few species are, on morphological grounds, similar to Caribbean ecomorphs. Most of the species that do have similarity are, surprisingly enough, categorized as grass-bush anoles, although ecologically most of these species do not seem to use grass-bush habitats, from what we know of their ecology. This paper represents a good step forward in our understanding of the evolutionary diversification of mainland anoles, and how it compares to what has occurred in the Caribbean. The next step will not be so simple, however—getting habitat data for all these species.
Author: Jonathan Losos Page 129 of 130
Professor of Biology and Director of the Living Earth Collaborative at Washington University in Saint Louis. I've spent my entire professional career studying anoles and have discovered that the more I learn about anoles, the more I realize I don't know.
In the mid-1980’s, Guyer and Savage proposed dividing Anolis into five genera. This proposal has mostly been rejected by the anole community, for reasons detailed in Poe (2004), Lizards in an Evolutionary Tree and the Wikipedia Norops page. The main reason is that although Guyer and Savage’s proposed genus Norops is monophyletic, all of the other proposed genera are not. Moreover, given the uncertainty that still exists about relationships at the base of the anole tree, sundering anoles into well-supported monophyletic subclades is still not possible. Finally, in Guyer and Savage’s initial paper, Anolis sensu lato was found to be monophyletic—so why bother? Even though we now know that Chamaeleolis, Chamaelinorops, and Phenacosaurus arose from within Anolis, it is much simpler to sink these genera into Anolis rather than to try to break anoles into umpteen different genera—many poorly supported.
Despite these points, and the general support for retention of an unsullied Anolis, support for Norops has one last redoubt, in Central America, and with particular strength in Costa Rica. There, the use of Norops is nearly ubiquitous, as evident in the Reptiles of Costa Rica flashcard pictured above (and for sale throughout the country).
I’ve completed the brief survey of the distribution of A. cristatellus in Costa Rica (see previous post for explanation). The work was hampered by rainy and cool weather. Nonetheless, several new localities were identified. In particular, we found cristatellus in Bribri, very close to the Panamanian border. We actually went to the border town of Sixaolo, and even walked across the bridge, setting foot in Panama for a full 90 seconds (border officials apparently routinely allow tourists across the border to take a photo). However, by that time, the weather was very overcast and cool, and no lizards were out. Were I a betting man, I’d wager that cristatellus is already in the land of the canal.
I’ve just arrived in Limon, a port town on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, to track the spread of the introduced species A. cristatellus. Several realizations occurred to me as we wended our way down the mostly beautiful road from San Jose. First, I realized that not only have I seen cristatellus in its native range of Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, but I’ve also seen introduced populations in Miami and the Dominican Republic, as well as here. This species gets around!
I report from Quepos, near Manuel Antonio National Park, one of the most popular tourist destinations in Costa Rica. As you might imagine, the place is silly with vendors and shops selling all manner of trinkets and tchotkes: t-shirts, postcards, carvings, you name it. And befitting Costa Rica’s ecotourist slant, much of this merchandise has a wildlife theme. Red-eyed tree frogs, sea turtles, toucans, geckoniform lizards—I’m sick of them all. I’ve searched high and low, through every shop and stall, here and elsewhere, and there is not a single anole-themed product to be found. Imagine the money to be made: slender anole postcards, elegant painted carvings of A. biporcatus. I’m sure I’m not the only ecotourist here thirsting after a little anoline piece of Costa Rica to take home as a beloved keepsake. Herpetological entrepeneurs, get to it!
My name is John Phillips. I am an undergraduate in Kirsten Nicholson’s lab at Central Michigan. Kirsten and I were discussing some interesting behavior I observed by A. laeviventris and A. cupreus during our Nicaragua trip last summer. Multiple individuals upon capture appeared to ‘play dead’ until I stopped holding them securely, whence they suddenly sprang to life and escaped. Kirsten thought you may know of any related instances of such behavior in anoles, and she has encouraged me to write this observation up in Herp Review so I was wondering if anyone knew of related instances in other anoles. If so, could you email me at: phill1jg@cmich.edu?
Larger islands have more species. Why? MacArthur and Wilson’s theory explains island species richness as an equilibrium between the input of new species (a function of island isolation) and extinction (inversely related to island area). Although certainly one of the most influential ideas in biology in the 20th century, the theory had its limitations, most specifically, that it relied solely on ecological phenomena—colonization and extinction—to explain species richness. Yet, that can’t be the whole story, because islands are renowned for their evolutionary exuberance—witness the adaptive flowering of lemurs on Madagascar, finches in the Galápagos, honeycreepers on Hawaii and so on. MacArthur and Wilson were, of course, well aware of the evolutionary component of island diversity and discussed the need to incorporate evolutionary issues into their theory at the end of their monograph.
Research on the escape behavior of lizards has become somewhat of a cottage industry in the last two decades, with scores, if not hundreds, of papers examining the effect of factors such as temperature, concealment, and crypticity. Probably the most important early paper in this area (and perhaps the first period) was Stan Rand’s study of the effect of body temperature on flight initiation distance of Anolis lineatopus. This work—conducted on the grounds of the University of the West Indies in Mona (a suburb of Kingston), Jamaica—reported that lizards with lower body temperatures fled at greater distances from an approaching predator. Rand speculated that this pattern resulted because warmer lizards could run faster, setting the stage for the pioneering work on the effect of temperature on sprint locomotion by Ray Huey, Al Bennett, and others.
More than four decades later, Bill Cooper returned to the scene of Rand’s work to further study the escape behavior of A. lineatopus and its relative A. grahami. Following the method used by Rand and many since, Cooper walked directly toward lizards at a constant pace and noted how far away he was when they fled, as well as the manner in which they escaped. Although the two species differ in habitat use, A. grahami being more arboreal, escape behavior was very similar. In both species, lizards tended to escape by running up trees, often by moving to the far side of the tree (termed “squirreling” by many anole aficionados); lizards initially perched lower in the vegetation tended to initiate escape at greater distances; and lizards in areas with greater human activity appeared to be habituated to the presence of people and delayed escape until the faux predator was relatively close.
None of these results is surprising; rather, they agree quite closely with work on other anoles and other types of lizards. Cooper makes an interesting observation that anoles that flee to the ground, such as grass-bush anoles, show an opposite pattern, fleeing at greater distances when they are perched higher in the vegetation. This, of course, makes sense because the higher they are, the further they are from safety, the opposite of the relationship that occurs in species that flee upward. As Cooper notes, more comparative work on other species, both more types of ecomorphs and species from other islands, could prove instructive. In addition, studies using non-human predators would also be welcome to establish the extent to which behavior elicited in response to approaching humans is representative of how anoles respond to their natural predators. Other studies have used snake or bird models to study anole escape behavior. In this paper, Cooper explains why he and others use humans for these tests—ease and repeatability of methods are certainly major advantages. Nonetheless, research on other types of predators would be an interesting avenue for future work.
Finally, Anole Annals awards a booby prize to the copy editor of this journal for the unique distinction of having a typo in the first line of the abstract (“fight” instead of “flight”) and what appears to be a sentence fragment that was supposed to have been deleted as the first words of the article itself.
Darwin’s finches are the iconic example of adaptive radiation. Some researchers, including me, have had the temerity to suggest that the diversification of Caribbean anoles may join the finches as an exemplar case study. But just how similar are these two radiations, in terms of evolutionary pattern and process? And can we learn anything from a two-clade comparison? I explore these questions in a chapter in a recently released book that resulted from a symposium held two years ago to honor Peter and Rosemary Grant. My chapter concludes:
“Overall, adaptive radiation in Darwin’s finches and Greater Antillean anoles has occurred in very much the same way. Interspecific competition appears to have been the driving force leading to resource partitioning and subsequently adaptation to different niches, and speciation is probably primarily allopatric and may be promoted as an incidental consequence of adaptation to different environments. Differences exist as well, such as the extent of hybridization and of independent evolution on different islands; many of these differences probably result because the radiations differ in age and aspects of natural history.”
If you want to read the whole thing, it’s available here.
Incidentally, the book, In Search of the Causes of Evolution: From Field Observations to Mechanisms, presents a nice overview of the breadth of evolutionary biology, with chapters by workers as diverse as Dolph Schluter, Andy Knoll, Cliff Tabin, David Jablonski, Scott Edwards, David Wake and Hopi Hoekstra, among others.