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Thursday is the day that our trash and recycling/green waste bins get emptied. This afternoon I was moving my green waste bin out to the curb and discovered three little creatures living under it. Two of the three guys were the same, and the third was something different. Fortunately none of them had been injured when I rolled the bin out of its spot next to the fence. The two little guys stayed put when I ran inside to grab my camera, but when I came out the largest guy had disappeared. I found it curled up next to the inside edge of one of the wheels on the bin and was able to coax it out for a few pictures.

A bit of research on the mighty Interwebs leads me to conclude that the larger of my new damp friends is a California slender salamander, Batrachoseps attenuatus. It certainly is slender, isn't it?

California slender salamander (Batrocoseps attenuatus) that was living under my green waste bin. 3 February 2016 © Allison J. Gong
California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuatus) that was living under my green waste bin.
3 February 2016
© Allison J. Gong

If it weren't for the tiny legs, at first glance this guy would look like a snake. Here's a close-up of its front end (and the palm of my hand):

Head and forelegs of California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuates). 3 February 2016 © Allison J. Gong
Head and forelegs of California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuatus).
3 February 2016
© Allison J. Gong

All told, the slender salamander was about 15 cm long. It fit very nicely in my hand.

California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuatus). 3 February 2016 © Allison J. Gong
California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuatus).
3 February 2016
© Allison J. Gong

The two other critters were quite small, about 3 cm long, and more typically salamander-shaped. I'm pretty sure they were the same species but juveniles can be difficult to identify. They were dark gray, almost black, with tiny yellow speckles that I thought at first were dust bits. Looking at the photos now I'm pretty sure at least some of them were speckles, though.

Little arboreal salamander (Aneides lugubris) that was living under my green waste bin. 3 February 2016 © Allison J. Gong
Small arboreal salamander (Aneides lugubris) that was living under my green waste bin.
3 February 2016
© Allison J. Gong
Arboreal salamander (Aneides lugubris). 3 February 2016 © Allison J. Gong
Arboreal salamander (Aneides lugubris).
3 February 2016
© Allison J. Gong

Cute little guys, aren't they? Aneides lugubris gets its common name from the fact that it can and does climb on trees. However, they are more commonly seen on the ground. Like all salamanders they must remain moist because they breathe through their skin, so they are found under wood piles or flower pots or other yard structures. Including green waste bins, apparently.

I had to remove these guys' shelter to the curb, so I gently scooped them up, handling them as little as possible, and transferred them to the flower bed. I hope they'll be happy and can find shelter there.

I love the serendipity of finding creatures when I didn't expect to! Especially when they're creatures I'm not familiar with. Any chance to learn about something new is fine by me!

This past weekend I was in the San Joaquin Valley to celebrate my dad's 80th birthday. On a cold and rainy Saturday morning we gathered at my parents' house to take care of some last-minute things before the big party later that evening. We were in the backyard when I noticed a tiny lizard on the patio under a table. It was so still even as I approached that at first I thought it was dead, but when I touched it it turned its head away from my finger and twitched a leg. Amidst suggestions of "Pick it up" and "Don't squish it!" I coaxed the little guy onto my hand and held it out for pictures, hoping I'd have time to ID it after all the birthday festivities.

Small lizard found in my parents' backyard in Fresno, California. 19 December 2015 © Allison J. Gong
Small lizard found in my parents' backyard in Fresno, California.
19 December 2015
© Allison J. Gong

Cute little thing, isn't it? The entire body is only about 5 cm long. It didn't look like any of the native lizards or salamanders that I've seen, and a little research on the excellent website California Herps confirmed that it is indeed an alien species.

Hemidactylus turcicus, the Mediterranean house gecko, has been living in California since at least as early as 2007. It is a nocturnal gecko that is usually associated with human dwellings, as artificial lights attract the moths and other insects that the gecko preys upon. The predatory habits of this H. turcicus make it a welcome, if informal, house pet in its native range. I was unable to find how H. turcicus made it into California from the Mediterranean, but I bet the original "colonists" were escaped pets. Since they are small (no longer than 15 cm) and nocturnal, they are not considered to be a threat to native California lizards, although their distribution in California seems to expanding northward.

Like most other geckos, H. turcicus has vertical pupils and doesn't have eyelids. In this picture you can see the pupil. We watched our little guy lick its eyeballs several times, which is what geckos do to keep their eyes clean and moistened.

Head detail of H. turcicus, showing the vertical pupil. 19 December 2015 © Allison J. Gong
Head detail of H. turcicus, showing the vertical pupil.
19 December 2015
© Allison J. Gong

There's no way of knowing how long this little gecko has lived in my parents' backyard, or now long it will live after I let it go. Now that I know about them, I'm going to keep an eye out for them around here where I live. According to the California Herps species map for H. turcicus, there has been at least one verified sighting in Santa Cruz County. They don't seem to be particularly shy, but their nocturnal behavior and small size may make them difficult to see even if they are fairly abundant. If one makes it into my house, I'll welcome it and hope my cats don't catch it. I wouldn't mind another mouth in the house, if it's one that I don't have to feed.

The birds do it, the bees do it, and now the frogs are doing it.  There's a small clump of trees between two of the houses across the street, and I think that's where a male Pacific chorus frog has staked his claim.  Every evening for the past few weeks I've heard him singing away.  Often you'll hear several frogs singing at the same time, but this particular guy's call is much louder and more piercing than the others.  What I particularly like about this sound recording is that it begins with a solo, and other frogs join in to make a joyful noise.

The Pacific chorus frog (Pseudacris regilla), sometimes erroneously referred to as the Pacific tree frog, is the only frog that ribbits.  It couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else.  In fact, its song is so iconic of "frogness" that it is universally used in movies and other Hollywood products taking place anywhere in the world, despite the fact that this little singer lives only along the western coast of the US.

Most Pacific chorus frogs don't live in trees
Most Pacific chorus frogs don't live in trees

Why is it wrong to call these guys tree frogs?  Because they don't live in trees, silly!  At least, not exclusively in trees.  Along the central California coast they live in grassy areas from the coast up into the hills.  I start hearing them in winter, as the rains form puddles and small ponds, but they stop singing when they hear people approaching.  To me, they are part of the soundtrack of spring in California.  While most of the singing happens at night, I often hear them singing during the day at the marine lab.  Many times the males are singing together -- hence the name chorus frogs.

Considering their ability to make a lot of noise, Pacific chorus frogs are little guys.  Big ones are only 5 cm long.  They vary in color from brown to green, and the color of an individual can change throughout the year.  They have a very distinctive dark horizontal stripe that runs through the eye, making them look like, well, chorus frogs.

Pacific chorus frog (Pseudacris regilla) on the stem of a sunflower
Pacific chorus frog (Pseudacris regilla) on the stem of a sunflower

Like all frogs, chorus frogs are tied to water for reproduction.  Once the rains have started, male frogs migrate to wet areas and set up shop.  Their "krick-et" calls attract females, and the frogs pair up and do what comes naturally to most animals in the springtime.  The female lays eggs in calm, still water and the male fertilizes them as they are deposited.  Tadpoles develop in the water and, hopefully, metamorphose into froglets in due time.

Eventually the mating season will end, and the frogs will stop singing until next year's rains.  I will miss them when they go away, but for the next little while the soundtrack of spring will play every evening.

 

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