Rhodes 2022 - Holiday Herping
It was late May 2022 and travel was now back on the menu (for now at least). The onset of a week of school holidays, mixed with the fervorous anticipation of an upcoming royal celebration of how great and superior all these royal folks are, meant that Newcastle airport was reaching boiling point. The number of overly-excited adult babies was sky high. The perfect storm was finally achieved owing to the airport's dedication to providing almost zero seating options, thus creating an unwelcome return to the stumbling and bumbling normality of masses of jacked-up people seemingly incapable of packing their own bags, selecting appropriate clothing, or even walking unassisted. The place was buzzing.
I blocked out all of this fun and instead focused on the task at hand, a familiar task to many of us: how to try to eek out some herping time from a ‘normal’ holiday. There was an added hope here owing to one of my previous visits to Rhodes (way back in 2012) where I encountered a DOR Black whip snake and hoped I’d have the chance to find a living one someday. I thought about the possibilities of surely bumping into one or two serpents during a fortnight on the island, but tried to manage my hopes about finding the main one on the wish-list.
A 45-minute delay on the tarmac at Newcastle meant that Jill was already sleeping before we'd taken off which, thinking back to the last time we holidayed together, wasn't really much of a surprise. We arrived late in the evening, checked into some local apartments, and enjoyed our first beers in warm Mediterranean (or Aegean…?) air in three years.
I blocked out all of this fun and instead focused on the task at hand, a familiar task to many of us: how to try to eek out some herping time from a ‘normal’ holiday. There was an added hope here owing to one of my previous visits to Rhodes (way back in 2012) where I encountered a DOR Black whip snake and hoped I’d have the chance to find a living one someday. I thought about the possibilities of surely bumping into one or two serpents during a fortnight on the island, but tried to manage my hopes about finding the main one on the wish-list.
A 45-minute delay on the tarmac at Newcastle meant that Jill was already sleeping before we'd taken off which, thinking back to the last time we holidayed together, wasn't really much of a surprise. We arrived late in the evening, checked into some local apartments, and enjoyed our first beers in warm Mediterranean (or Aegean…?) air in three years.
The next morning we picked up our severely underpowered VW Polo and whizzed to the southeast of the Island ready for some herping. I mean holiday. We were both ready for some holiday. We briefly holidayed in a dried-out riverbed enroute, but only found the first of many Starred agamas (Laudakia stellio) and a distant (and non-binned) Hobbyish falcon. On arrival at our white-walled, blue-shuttered holiday home of dreams, we were met by a lovely Greek and French-speaking host - which once again gave Jill a chance to flex her language skills. "Si" and "aqui" were thrown around liberally and, in general, conversation flowed. Many agamas scuttled around the grounds, plus a shed snakeskin (or 'snake shirt') in the flowerbed provided an insight into what had previously visited but likely wouldn't pop back for another two-weeks or so.
Without giving a day-by-day ramble of the holidaying experiences, I’ll summarise a few days by saying we strolled along the beach, searched the wooded paths around a reservoir, checked out the gale-force winds of the deep south, stood on the edge of a waterfall and flipped a few items in an abandoned factory. All in the name of holidays. We spotted a few Short-toed eagles (which were also holidaying), found many green toads in water courses, a cat snake slough (although I prefer ‘shirt’ to slough), a stone curlew and another distant falcon. We also tasted many delicious foods in many tavernas. Honestly the food here is a little too good at times…
The Milky Way was also amazing in the early hours. I once met a grown-up adult who hadn’t even heard of the Milky Way. That’s a real shame. It mustn’t have been mentioned on Netflix. I should also mention that my camera was absolutely knackered owing to at least 8 months in the sands of Arabia over the past year and half. This meant that I wasn’t able to get many in-situ lizard shots, and in fact most of the time I just didn’t bother trying to use it at all.
The Milky Way was also amazing in the early hours. I once met a grown-up adult who hadn’t even heard of the Milky Way. That’s a real shame. It mustn’t have been mentioned on Netflix. I should also mention that my camera was absolutely knackered owing to at least 8 months in the sands of Arabia over the past year and half. This meant that I wasn’t able to get many in-situ lizard shots, and in fact most of the time I just didn’t bother trying to use it at all.
After finding some more interesting zig-zag tracks around beach-based scrub (possibly Pseudopus as opposed to a snaky target), we headed to a hill-top castle nearby where we found another snake shirt, only this one was the size of a python (an angry-looking postocular suggested this was Malpolon) - Another reminder of what fantastic beasts are out there, but which again would most likely not be joining us during holiday time. What did join us later on was a freshwater crab, so to be honest that wasn’t a great trade-off. A Blue rock-thrush and the first of many bee-eaters followed. A juvenile Black whip snake lay dead on the road halfway to Monolithos where Alpine swifts cruised overhead in the evening.
It took a few days for the first living snake to make an appearance. This occurred during one early morning stroll along the edge of a scrubby hill as it met an agricultural field. I paused briefly, thinking the ‘best’ area had just been scanned, only to suddenly realise the ground beneath a bush was still moving. A Dahl’s whip snake (Platycepts najadum) now sat in the middle of the bush, looking fairly confident that the blundering human would not be able to get any closer to it. It probably chuckled a few times as it watched the human trying to operate a knackered camera before deciding enough was enough and beginning to head deeper into more (non-soft) bushery. As I somehow still don’t have a decent photo of a Dahlies I did go in head first after it, but came out empty-handed and more scratched than I was before.
The next day, as we drove away from a wine-making part of the island, I was just reaching minimum cruising speed in the Polo when it seemed that a huge dark patch of heat haze up ahead appeared to be moving sideways over the road. The rest is a bit of a blur as I came to a halt and thrashed about in the car, trying to undo my seatbelt and cranking on the temperamental handbrake before legging it after whatever beast was just leaving the road and entering an olive grove under a rusty metal fence. I’d like to say I hurdled this fence no problem, but a couple of scrapes I noticed afterwards would suggest otherwise. Anyway, I caught up to the snake mid-olive grove and realised I was about to snaffle my target Black whipsnake (Dolichophis jugularis). What a creature!
We topped that encounter off with some of the finest dolmades on the planet before returning home via the abandoned cat snake coat factory but had no more luck with snakes - in fact we had the opposite as two huge Black whipsnakes had been killed by cars. Back home, alarming Sardinian warblers gave away the position of one of the many filthy feral cats here – this one was now going about its business disrupting the natural ecosystem, as presumably it had already spent time in the local rubbish bin this morning and would be turning up in a taverna later on. Anyway, rest assured it got the hosepipe treatment.
The next few days included a couple more escaping snakes, some delightful evening lightning storms, a number of ‘Eastern’ Balkan green lizards (Lacerta diplochondrodes) and some Levant skinks (Heremites auratus) which my camera refused to switch on for. A couple of brewskis on the beach watching shooting stars was also a highlight. The final snake of this area was a delightful subadult Black whip snake, snaffled by the exact bush the Dahlies had escaped into a few days earlier. It was then time to relocate to the north of the island for our final few days.
The next few days included a couple more escaping snakes, some delightful evening lightning storms, a number of ‘Eastern’ Balkan green lizards (Lacerta diplochondrodes) and some Levant skinks (Heremites auratus) which my camera refused to switch on for. A couple of brewskis on the beach watching shooting stars was also a highlight. The final snake of this area was a delightful subadult Black whip snake, snaffled by the exact bush the Dahlies had escaped into a few days earlier. It was then time to relocate to the north of the island for our final few days.
We drove to Psinthos via what looked like some creepy abandoned military interrogation cells, as one does. When we arrived at the house, the gardens had recently been sprayed with chemicals and assorted inverts were on their last legs. The hirundines hadn’t noticed, with many still feeding over the area. It couldn’t have been a healthy foodchain. I asked a neighbour about snakes, but they implied they either don’t see many or that they just get killed by the farmers/gardeners. I guess those two answers go hand in hand really. Anyway, exploring the area (plus an excursion to Rhodes town – although the old walls are a bit too formal for a full-on off-piste search) provided Pelagasian rock lizards (Anatololacerta pelasgiana) and more agamas, plus plenty of scops owl booping in the evening. A tributary riverbed to what we called 'Shit-tip canyon' contained a Dahl's whip snake shirt, but with only a couple of days remaining it was feeling like hard work.
As the area geared for Pentecost celebrations, a big pink ‘Diva Crepes’ catering wagon appeared in the village square. The painting of the Diva perhaps not quite an accurate depiction of the doughnut-ball server housed within. In more relevant holiday news, the local stream provided Levant water frogs and Balkan pond terrapins in addition to yet more green toads in various stages of their lifecycle. Night wanders along the same stream produced more toads, a night heron and a daring hedgehog walking along a high aqueduct.
On returning from another taverna gorging session, looking down from the veranda I noticed a little bat pootling about on the floor in direct sunlight looking a little disturbed. When I went down to inspect, another bat had appeared down there, and a coil of snake stuck out from a crack in the wall where a hosepipe entered. It was a Dahl's whip snake, potentially purposely raiding this bat roost or just enjoying a lucky happening a hungry snake may encounter as it opportunistically pops into the odd hole or two. More bats exited and fluttered to the ground. They seemed quite mobile, and probably just small rather than young. I helped a few of them off the ground and into the shade on the trunk of an olive. They could crawl back to the roost from there if they fancied it, but it probably wouldn't have been the smart play. Eventually the snake came out (at about the 3rd time of asking, and after many (many) minutes had passed), and I managed to beat myself up pretty nicely trying to snaffle it for a photo. Luckily it was secured and handed to Jill whilst I tended my cuts and got my camera. Before even one photo was taken, the little Dahlie lunged a little, Jill let it go, and it vanished forever. We are only just back on speaking terms.
We headed to the airport, taking in a final sunset from Paradisi beach (feeling not so much a paradise but rather a potential crime scene) before re-integrating with the maskless people-circus of holiday travel.
We headed to the airport, taking in a final sunset from Paradisi beach (feeling not so much a paradise but rather a potential crime scene) before re-integrating with the maskless people-circus of holiday travel.
Reflections
Food in Greece is, generally, off the scale good. This was certainly a gorging holiday first, a snacking holiday second, with wildlife searching coming in somewhere towards the ass-end of the list behind road-trippin and breakfasts - although snaffling my lifer adult Black whip snake was an absolute treat - so overall it has to be said it was a successful ‘holiday’. It was also an awesome feeling to get back out into some classic ‘Euroherping’ habitat. It had been way too long. I forgot about how the mind can wander when you’re out there strolling about…
Slowly walking and pausing, scanning and listening. Sometimes encountering a snake creates the feeling as if a small patch of earth in your periphery is continuing to move even when you have paused. Sometimes there's a delay in what feels like forever as the brain processes either where that continuous flowing, rustling noise is coming from or why the ground seems to be uncoiling and disappearing from an area just far enough out of reach for it to be too late by the time you realise what's happening. Sometimes this brief shot of excitement and lingering frustration can be my only close encounter of many long hours of walking through hot and spiky habitat, accruing all manner of pricky burrs and returning to base absolutely spent, feeling that those prized needles will forever remain hidden within their maquis and scrub haystacks. Sometimes it feels like they don't even exist, until coming across a gut-wrenching roadkill, revealing that these beautiful creatures do in fact still roam around in close proximity. A lifeless tangle of coils, often with a section of intricately painted scales still intact. A creature which earlier that day moved around freely with an unjustified reputation held by the misinformed masses yet an infinite beauty revered by only a few. If only they avoided the roads as much as they seem to avoid me. The enigma of these great hiders only adds to my desire to search for them again. Another day I'll be back to try once more.
Slowly walking and pausing, scanning and listening. Sometimes encountering a snake creates the feeling as if a small patch of earth in your periphery is continuing to move even when you have paused. Sometimes there's a delay in what feels like forever as the brain processes either where that continuous flowing, rustling noise is coming from or why the ground seems to be uncoiling and disappearing from an area just far enough out of reach for it to be too late by the time you realise what's happening. Sometimes this brief shot of excitement and lingering frustration can be my only close encounter of many long hours of walking through hot and spiky habitat, accruing all manner of pricky burrs and returning to base absolutely spent, feeling that those prized needles will forever remain hidden within their maquis and scrub haystacks. Sometimes it feels like they don't even exist, until coming across a gut-wrenching roadkill, revealing that these beautiful creatures do in fact still roam around in close proximity. A lifeless tangle of coils, often with a section of intricately painted scales still intact. A creature which earlier that day moved around freely with an unjustified reputation held by the misinformed masses yet an infinite beauty revered by only a few. If only they avoided the roads as much as they seem to avoid me. The enigma of these great hiders only adds to my desire to search for them again. Another day I'll be back to try once more.