Sequencing of the Anolis genome holds great promise for unlocking the genetic basis of anole phenotypic variation – such as dewlap coloration and limb length differences – and it also makes for a nifty way to discover new molecular markers, such as microsatellites. Wordley et al. report in a recent article on mining A. carolinensis expressed sequence tags (ESTs) for repeats and then blasting the EST-derived sequences against the genome to obtain the genomic sequence and its location on assembled chromosomes. From these sequences, they designed primers, tested them out in A. carolinensis, and, importantly, attempted to amplify them in multiple, phylogenetically diverse species. They identified 8-25 new variable markers for apletophallus, carolinensis, distichus, porcatus, and sagrei, which can be added to the existing resources designed for carolinensis, cristatellus, distichus, luciae, roquet, oculatus, and sagrei, which also work for some related species. Happy genotyping!
from Michele Johnson:
Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to join one of my colleagues, mammalogist David Ribble, in the data collection for a vertebrate biodiversity survey he’s working on at Bamberger Ranch in Johnson City, Texas. (Incidentally, David is a grad school pal of Jonathan Losos – it’s always a small world.) We trapped rodents, checked pitfall traps, lifted cover boards, and jumped out of the truck when we saw snakes in the road. This was my first experience trapping mammals, and I was impressed by the many similarities, and the important differences, between field studies of rodents and anoles.
This is not an anole. It’s a Peromyscus pectoralis from Bamberger Ranch, with a fresh ear tag.
The similarities:
1. When you grab an animal, it pees on you.
2. If you don’t hold on tight, the animal gets away. (The perils of working with students…)
3. If you don’t hold on right, you get bitten.
4. When you catch males, you confirm the sex by everting the penes.
5. Tails can come off – oops!
6. We all pose our specimens in unnatural positions. (Mice get a “Superman flying” pose; anoles a “mid-jumping jack” pose.)
7. Field work is better with beer.
The differences:
1. You can lure mice into little traps using food. It would be awfully convenient if anoles fell for such a trick.
2. If an anole bites your finger, you can blow on its face until it lets go. If a mouse bites your finger, you bleed all over everything.
3. Male mice only have one penis, poor guys.
4. If takes way more work to make a mouse specimen than an anole specimen – you have to skin it, stuff it, and pin it. I prefer fixation with nasty chemicals.
Assuming my lists are exhaustive, it’s clear that the study of anoles has more similarities than differences with the study of their amniotic brethren. Still, I think I’ll stick with anoles.
PS – For those of you wondering, the rodents we trapped were Sigmodon hispidus (cotton rat) and Peromyscus pectoralis (white-ankled mouse), and the herps we caught were Sceloporus undulatus, Acris crepitans blanchardi, and Thamnophis proximus. It was very cold that weekend.
This shot was taken by anole biologist Todd Jackman on Main St. USA during a recent trip to Disney World. Can you spot the anole?
Anolis princeps sawing logs in Ecuador.
There have been a number of posts recently discussing various aspects of the sleeping biology of anoles (e.g., here, here, and here). Anoles spend 1/3 to 1/2 of their lives asleep, so it is not surprising that there is a small cottage industry of research papers describing where they sleep, in what position, and with whom. The most recent addition to this genre is a very nice paper on A. uniformis in Mexico, which reveals that this species is typical in sleeping on leaves with its body in line with the long axis of the leaf. The paper includes a brief, but thorough review of the literature on anole sleeping and thus is a good entrée to the literature.
A somewhat less brief review of the literature might go something like this
Evolution of species in a two-dimensional morphospace. Axes are from a principal components analysis of morphology; symbols represent different ecomorph classes.
Over on the Phytools blog, anole biologist and comparative methods guru Liam Revell provides a program to visualize the evolution of traits in multivariate space, termed a “phylomorphospace.” This method plots species’ values and connects the points to portray their phylogenetic relationships. Most imporantly, the example he uses is none other than Greater Antillean anole ecomorphs, using a figure developed by Luke Mahler and pictured above. The diagram above illustrates convergence of the ecomorphs by showing that members of the same ecomorph class occur in the same parts of morphological space, even though many members of each ecomorph are not closely related to each other. Each large dot represents an extant ecomorph and the color indicates ecomorph class; small dots are internal nodes of the phylogeny. Admittedly, these spaghetti-grams can be hard to follow for large phylogenies, but they do give a sense of how traits have evolved and the extent to which convergence occurs.
In the Western Andes of Colombia one of the most common bird species is the Black-billed Thrush (Turdus ignobilis, known as Mirla).
In the picture, a Mirla is eating an anole and although it is hard to see what anole species it has in its beak, it is possible to say what species it is not. In this particular locality (vereda Chicoral, Valle del Cauca, Colombia, 1700 m) three anole species occur sympatrically –Anolis ventrimaculatus, A. eulaemus and A. antonii. The first two are frequently found inside forest fragments and to a lesser extent it is possible to find them in the edge forest, but never in crops or cultivable lands, but the third species, A. antonii, a fuscoauratoid anole, is easily found in the edge forest and in crops (tea crops in this case) and very hard to see inside the forest. This picture was taken by my friend Giovanni Chavez-Portilla which he kindly shared with me. It was taken from a second floor of one country house in this locality in November 2008.
Anolis gemmosus from Mindo, Ecuador
One of the reasons that spot-lighting for anoles at nights works so well is that many anole species adopt a lighter color in the evening. This was first noted by Reverend Lockwood in an article in the American Naturalist in 1876 who noted that his captive anoles were usually brown during the day, even when on a green leaf, and were green at night, even when sleeping on brown surfaces. He concluded (p.13): “The belief that the color of the contiguous object is mimicked for the sake of protection is, I think, not confirmed by the observed facts. The truth is that in this matter of animals enjoying life there is a higher law than that of mere intention. I shall call it the law of spontaneous expression, which has its base in another law, to wit, that a joy unuttered is a sense repressed. Why should green be the favorite night-gown of our sleeping Anolis? I timidly venture the suggestion that it is because the animal is disposing itself for the luxury of sleep, its color changes being the utterances of its emotions . . . Whether it be the expression of enjoyment of repose, comfort, or emotional joy, the highest manifestation is its display of green.”
We’ll all give a big hand to whomever provides the best caption for this photo. While you’re ruminating about something clever, notice that this adult male Anolis sagrei, collected from an introduced population in Taiwan and reported on here, is quite fat and sassy (or at least fat). Clearly, the extra appendage did it no harm. Who knows, maybe it even helped! Many anoles with three legs have been collected over the years (more examples always welcome). The existence of five-legged anoles means that it is now statistically possible to examine the relationship between limb number and sprint speed. Stay tuned.
A female and male Anolis gemmosus, photo by Luke Mahler
Last summer in Mindo, Ecuador, we found several pairs of Anolis gemmosus sleeping in very close proximity to each other, but not overlapping like Kat observed with Anolis etheridgei (earlier post). The pairs were always facing the same direction and the pairs were made up of any combination of males and females. To be fair, we also saw many sleeping alone, and the area was densely populated with A. gemmosus. Unfortunately, our dedicated pursuit of Anolis proboscis kept us from making detailed observations. Random coincidence or something more?
Blinky, someone's pet false chameleon. Photo from http://gallery.pethobbyist.com/photo.php?id=17574
Who knew that false chameleons, as they are called (technically, anoles in the clade—formerly genus—Chamaeleolis), are so common in the reptile captive husbandry world? In Cuba, these animals are a rare treat, one of the hardest anoles to find. Many talented anole biologists have returned from Cuba empty-handed, with nary a Chamaeleolis spotting to report. One might think that a big, white lizard like this would be easy to spot, but they are very slow and shy, blending right into their environment.
Cuba strongly protects its native wildlife, but apparently some got out, reputedly to Europe. Turns out that they are easy to breed, and so now they are readily available. Not cheap, though—a quick google found false chameleons of several species for sale, but the standard price was in the $500 range.
In any case, should you have a hankering to go Chamaeleolis, there’s now a good resource for captive husbandry and care. Kelly Bradley of the Forth Worth Zoo has raised many a false chameleon in her day, and she’s now detailed how to do it in her recent tell all exposé in Reptiles magazine