The title of this one is a little misleading, I freely admit, but bear with me.
Twenty or so years ago I was gifted (or rather it was being thrown away, and I was the first one there) a 3 x 2 x 3-foot enclosure. Glass, mesh lid and double opening front doors. Being 10 years into keeping these fascinating animals, this was like finding the holy grail and the holy hand grenade (name the film, I dare you) all at the same time.
This was a spacious enclosure; the glass gave me excellent water retention and options for water-based paludarium styles with heat dispersal at the same time. The build possibilities were endless.
Snakes, lizards, amphibians, selection of invertebrates, live plants, water features. Anything and everything I could put together, I could build into this thing.
I was slightly excited.
The build
Oddly, and the exact opposite of what I recommend these days, I started building the enclosure before I had plans for a species.
Looking back, I’m glad I did it this way round.
My first job was deciding what I wanted to do with the base of the glass beast.
I eventually decided on a split pond enclosure. Half water, half land. The water would be thick with pond plants and have a small filter, possibly some fish once it was established. The land would be heavily planted with one large central plant that would be my tall one (the tree) and several lower growing species that could creep up the background or spread across the substrate.
A rocky/slate section by the pond, buried hides and two built into the background, branches and logs breaking up the middle of the enclosure, several vertical and others resting at angles throughout the build, leaf litter and dried grasses to finish off the whole thing.
I was done. It was built. And it was phenomenal.
The next question – what was going in there?
Shopping
Don’t let me understate this, it wasn’t a build that I completed in an afternoon. This monstrosity took me months to get working properly. The plants had to bed in, the pond needed to cycle, the pond needed to be built! This wasn’t a small undertaking.
Once I was satisfied that I’d done a good job it was animal time!
Any herpetoculturist will tell you, shopping is the highlight of this entire hobby! Seeing what you can get, what you want to get, what you’ve never considered, what takes your fancy and what’s new and interesting. For any beginners out there who are reading this, that feeling never goes away.
Off I went, money in hand, a mental image of my build and sheer, unending optimism.
And I was immersed in the beautiful world of reptile shopping.
I went from viv to viv, enclosure to enclosure, searching for inspiration or a suitable species. I was enjoying myself immensely. Then I saw them.
Innocuous, sedate and looking pretty damn miserable in their cramped little house with little to no cover – The green anole Anolis carolinensis. This was a small group of 3 animals, and they were a mere £9.99 each or 3 for £25.
Sold.
These, at the time, withdrawn little lizards would start a 20-year obsession with Anolis culminating with my lovely girl Duckie. As diurnal, fast-paced arboreal lizards, green anoles would be the perfect additions to my tropical monster of a build.
I had them boxed, received little to no information about the animals – “throw some of these (pushes black crickets towards me) in for them to chase a few times a week” – and away I went. Confused but elated at my new beasties.
Let’s get you home.
Introduction to the monster
I got home and excitedly placed the tub in the enclosure, opened the lid and, bracing for three terrified anoles bouncing off the walls, held my breath.
I needn’t have bothered. They sat in the opened tub looking a bit confused. Had I inadvertently chosen the broken ones? No movement at all. Some head and eye movement as they cautiously checked out their new home and that was it. Slightly deflated, I went to pick up the tub to elevate it slightly to allow them easier access out and they exploded into action.
If you have never seen an anole moving when it’s scared, it’s quite a sight to behold. They can almost teleport they move that quick. There one second, gone the next. They are remarkably agile and exceptional climbers, even able to adhere to glass, as I soon discovered.
Two instantly disappeared into the plants and branches, one got lost and stuck himself on one of the front doors. I took this opportunity to check out his feet, tail and underbelly. A beautiful white colour, long thin tail and toe pads similar to crested geckos, topped with a joined digit and a sharp little claw. As I was unceremoniously looking at his undersides (definitely a boy) like a mechanic under a car, he tilted his head, gave me a look of sheer disgust and bolted.
Gone.
I obviously needed to let them settle, so I retreated and left them to it.
Two weeks later
The anoles are now a constant source of entertainment. Active, agile and voracious hunters but also interactive. They display to each other, and I got lucky and ended up with 1 male and two females. The girls would display to each other, the male would display to both of them, and I had already seen the male locked with a female. Would I get babies?
Where would they lay? How many do they lay? Would they be fertile? Do I incubate them? So many questions!
There was also one more thing that had my eyebrow raised.
There was a lot of room in there.
I had an epiphany. Reptiles don't exist in single-species environments naturally. There are dozens and dozens of different species that interact in natural environments. Predator/prey dynamics, symbiotic relationships, mutualism, commensalism, and even parasitism. Some compete directly with each other for resources; others work in tandem with each other.
And I had a lot of room in there.
I started reading.
The quest
Every thought I had didn’t seem quite right. Every idea seemed… off. I kept coming back to garter snakes and dismissing it through sheer predation risk. Eastern garter snakes are natives to the green anoles range, but the risk? Hardly worth my little colony.
Disregard species.
Rough green snakes! Now that was a species! Shared native range with anoles and not known for lizard predation, but it wasn’t unheard of. Too risky.
Disregarded another species.
Fence lizards? These guys would be a tough addition. They get significantly larger than anoles. Would they outcompete or even attack the anoles?
Another disregarded species.
Five-lined skink! Now these had promise. Small size, different ecological niche, these might work. One problem – almost impossible to find in the UK.
Reluctantly disregarded that one.
American green tree frogs. Wait a minute. American green tree frogs! Arboreal, insectivorous and nocturnal. Nocturnal would be the key. The lizards and frogs would occupy the same space and the same biological niche but at different times.
This could really work.
Finding frogs
Now, the early 2000s was thick with exotic animals. Weekly imports of dozens if not hundreds of different species were commonplace. My trio of anoles were wild-caught themselves. But youthful and inspired, wild-caught specimens were an opportunity not a problem in the trade.
Youthful inspiration intact, off I went to the same place I acquired the anoles to ask if they had any American green tree frogs.
Lo and behold, tucked away in a corner were four of the arboreal amphibians. In tubs. Even with my relative inexperience, I knew this wasn’t the peak of modern husbandry.
Me being me, I felt bad for them – the height of anthropomorphising the animals – and I bought the lot. All four. £12.50 each. Not even a discount for multi buys either.
Crap.
I, again, had the same top-notch care advice as with the anoles – “throw food in X times a week”. No enclosure check or husbandry advice. Just like before.
Why would the shop owners assume I have an enclosure ready to go?
This was the first time I had questioned purchasing an animal. Ever.
But, if you’ve read any of my other work, it would not be the last.
Home we went.
The anxiety
I had no idea that introducing animals into a large cohab enclosure could be so stressful!! 20 years later and I remember the feeling like it was only yesterday.
What if I got this wrong and I ended up serving up four frog kebabs?
What if the frogs became hyper predatory at night and demolished the anoles in a secret nocturnal war?
What if the frogs were actually toxic and through predation by the anoles, they poisoned everything around them?
What if, what if, what if?
These frogs were not in the best condition, they had been in small tubs for I don’t know how long, and they could be dehydrated and half starved for all I know. I had the perfect high humidity, heavily planted paludarium style enclosure ready for them. Thanks to my additions of branches and leaf litter I’d even seen a growing colony of isopods in there (bioactive was still a word I wouldn’t hear for another 8 odd years), the enclosure was as good as I could get it.
They had to go in, my own anxiety can suck it, the animals needed a decent environment to recover their strength and, if needs be, heal.
I opened the tubs and placed them in there. Shut the doors and watched.
It didn’t take long. Three little anole heads were watching me the whole time. After I shut the doors the anoles diverted their attention to the tubs and their new housemates.
The frogs leapt into action and disappeared completely.
An ecosystem?
My younger, better-looking and considerably more physically able self had accidentally built a living, breathing ecosystem.
Not what I was originally going for, I admit. But here it was.
Live plants, LED and low-level UV lighting, basking spots, feeding opportunities, hiding places, a large cycled water source containing fish and small crustaceans, and a rich substrate that had developed its own humidity gradient. And then there was the bug life. Isopods, springtails, worms and a plethora of other small beasties, mostly added accidentally or as stowaways, cleaning up after everything else and, in some cases, preying upon each other. In turn, some of them became prey for my daytime and nighttime predators.
I never did see a direct interaction between the anoles and the frogs. Does that mean it didn't happen? Absolutely not. Was I just too drunk or absent to see it? Almost definitely. But if there were interactions, I can reasonably presume they weren't particularly violent. There were no obvious marks on the frogs, and the anoles weren't damaged in any way that I could see.
Anoles hatched from hidden nests and joined the adults. Some were lost — presumed eaten — while others grew to adult size and started the whole process over again.
The frogs never did breed.
Looking back, I think I know why. I never simulated a proper wet season for them. But they remained in that enormous green enclosure for another three to six years.
After six years, the frogs were gone and I was left with a fairly stable breeding colony of green anoles. They were wonderfully active, always chasing each other and bouncing around the enclosure. The plants almost took over. They exploded into life and needed almost continuous pruning just to keep them under control.
There was life everywhere.
And it was all green.
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