In crossing the yard the other day, I saw movement in a bare-ish patch of lawn, immediately recognizing it as a ground skink – I pounced, managed (after a couple of tries) to get it into my hand, then had to endeavor not to let it slip between my fingers. But this gave me the chance to do a few studio pics.
Mimicking their natural habitat isn’t hard, since they like leaf litter and loose earth – I’ve seen them a few times since we moved here, but never when I had the chance to capture one, and forget about getting pics in situ, unless I get really lucky some day. Unlike the anoles, they’re very secretive, and while they might be out basking in the sun at times, they quickly slink under cover, moving far more like a very fast snake than any of the other lizards in the area. And, they’re small:
They can get bigger than this, but this is roughly the average size that I’ve found them, so clearly not too many critters need to be worried about falling prey to them. And even though they’re quite a shiny and reflective bronze in color along the back, they still blend in to leaves with ease.
My specimen here was fairly cooperative, which was nice, because I imagined it repeatedly seeking shelter under the leaves or even burrowing in the soil, and thought the session was going to be a lot harder than it was.
They might look wet and even slimy, but unlike salamanders and newts, they’re perfectly dry and don’t require the dampness that those do. I’d say that the dark lateral stripe was an identifying characteristic, which is probably true, but it’s hard to mistake these guys for anything else, really.
This was a few days ago during a nice warm part of the day, but the temperature dropped right alongside freezing last night and this may have been enough to convince the reptiles to pack it in for the year – not sure yet.
The skink remained motionless for a short while, and I took advantage of this to get different perspectives, but this side has a distraction, or detraction, or both: a bit of soil adhering to the corner of the eye, hardly visible until I got it under the magnification of the lens. But, unbelievably, I was able to nudge that almost away:
Using a corner of the same paper scale seen above, I managed to swipe the soil, not away, but at least ahead of the eye, and the skink cooperatively just closed its eye as I did this. Which is not bad, considering that the entire head is, what, seven millimeters in length? Where does it become neck, anyway? A philosophical question for the ages, or at least for bored herpetologists.
Meanwhile, look at those tiny toes.
I released my model here back where I found it once I was done, and have seen no sign of any since. But, the same day I did see our resident red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) again, multiple times in the yard, and during one of those it was scarfing down what appeared to be an anole, though I was unable to get any pics of that. I got a basic portrait later.
There are probably more than enough anoles in the yard that she won’t make them extinct, though I imagine she could knock down quite a few each day. But she also hunts out back and along the pond, and there are plenty of other opportunities back there for mice, snakes, toads, and so on. She seems to like the property, so fingers crossed regarding a nest come spring.