Puerto Rico Herpin’ originally appeared in the August 2007 issue of Reptiles Magazine. This is an expanded edition of that article. 

By Marty Essen

When my wife, Deb, and I traveled to all seven continents for my book, Cool Creatures, Hot Planet, we had some outstanding herping adventures in far-flung places. The only places we didn’t see herps (herps is short for herpetofauna—an all-inclusive word for reptiles and amphibians) were in northern Canada and Antarctica. I tried to start a rumor about catching a glimpse of a tundra taipan in the Yukon Territory, but for some reason it never caught on.

After taking two years off from traveling to write my book, Deb and I were eager leave home again. Since our seven continents of travels had all been adventure oriented and often involved physical challenges and primitive accommodations, Deb desired something more relaxing this time. You know—a girl trip, with indoor plumbing and time for tanning on the beach and shopping in the city.

When she suggested Puerto Rico, my initial interest was marginal at best. The island is overpopulated, overdeveloped, and many of its herps have been eradicated since the introduction of the mongoose. Nevertheless, I acquiesced to her wish.

My idea of a fun trip is searching for wildlife—especially herps—and photographing my finds. Knowing that Deb wouldn’t mind if we spent a little time looking for animals, I did some pre-trip research and was pleased to learn that a variety of cool creatures still existed on the island. Of all the animals we could see, Puerto Rican boas (Epicrates inornatus) excited me the most. Unfortunately, everything I read about the snakes said they were endangered and difficult to find.

To increase my chances of finding a Puerto Rican boa, I decided to seek local help. My inquires led me to Dr. Armando Rodriguez of Inter American University. He had been studying bats and could take me to a cave where he had failed to see Puerto Rican boas only once in fifteen years of visits. "Guaranteed!" I proclaimed. This was something I had never experienced before in my travels. In fact, in Belize the snakes had shut me out, and in Australia, Borneo, and Zimbabwe several days passed by before I saw my first snakes. Now, I couldn’t wait to visit Puerto Rico.

Deb and I had certificates for three free nights at a Ritz Carlton Hotel. Luxury hotels aren’t our style, but for free, we decided to make an exception. We’d spend our first two nights at the Ritz Carlton in San Juan. After that, we’d head to island’s quieter southern side for three nights at a funky little place called Mary Lee’s by the Sea. Then, for our final night, we’d return to the Ritz Carlton.

The Ritz Carlton is a massive hotel on eight acres of gated, beachfront property. After Deb and I checked-in, we ate dinner and headed for the beach. Since the sun had already set, we had the beach to ourselves and were able to enjoy a long, romantic stroll under the stars.

Eventually we decided to move our evening to our room. With my key card, I opened the gate at the edge of the beach, and we started across the hotel’s pool and courtyard area.

Ko-Kee! Ko-Kee! Ko-Kee! Though neither of us had heard the sound before, we both instantly knew what it was.

"Coquí frogs!" exclaimed Deb.

All thoughts of romance went on hold. We were in herp mode!

When our initial search of the tropical gardens and manicured bushes in the courtyard didn’t produce any frogs, I decided we needed more than just the hotel’s subdued lighting. I ran up to our room, grabbed my camera and two flashlights, and returned to the courtyard.

As Deb and I intensified our search, the song "Puttin’ on the Ritz" played in my head—with Herpin’ replacing Puttin’, of course. I don’t know which I enjoyed more: being back in herp mode after two years of absence or knowing that several fashionably dressed guests were surreptitiously watching our "odd" behavior.

Even with flashlights, the coquí frogs were difficult to find. We could hear them calling all around us, but they’d stop whenever we neared.

We were crouched at the edge of a sidewalk, shining our lights into a clump of ferns, when a young woman approached us. "Did you lose something?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "There are coquí frogs in the garden, and we’re trying to find them."

"There are animals in there?"

"Yes, frogs."

"Ewwww!" She grabbed her male companion’s arm and hurried into the hotel.

Finding the first frog took the longest, because we weren’t sure whether to look on the ground or on the plants. Once we realized the frogs were most often on the topside of leaves obscured by other leaves we started having some luck.

The frogs were common coquís (Eleutherodactylus coqui)—a light-brown species, not quite as big as my thumb. Puerto Rico has sixteen species of coquí frogs, but only two make the distinctive ko-kee call. One thing all coquís have in common is that their young skip the tadpole stage and develop directly from the egg.

Other than coquís, our night of herpin’ at the Ritz also produced a marine toad and a variety of anolis lizards—not bad for a hotel courtyard in a city of 439,000 people.

After a day of shopping and sight seeing, and another night at the Ritz, we headed southwest to Mary Lees by the Sea, near the town of Guánica. Because our visit took place a week before Thanksgiving, we hit a rare lull in the resort’s schedule and were the only guests.

Our self-contained apartment was buffered from the ocean by a thin line of mangroves. From this base we would go exploring, hiking, and sea kayaking. And, when we felt the need, relaxation was just a few steps away on a long wooden dock that jutted past the mangroves into the warm waters of the Caribbean Sea.

As Deb and I had learned in the rainforests of Peru, Borneo, and Australia, the best time for herping is after sunset. Since this wasn’t supposed to be a strenuous trip, we did all our nighttime herping within one hundred feet of our porch. Over the course of our stay, we saw mangrove crabs, fiddler crabs, hermit crabs, spiny lobsters, jellyfish, sea cucumbers, sea anemones, angle fish, sergeant majors, flying fish, marine toads, tangs, and several species of small, colorful fish we couldn’t identify.

Okay, only the marine toad was a herp. But we found all the creatures using the same flashlight spotting technique, and some of the colorful crabs were just as cool as any herp—well, almost any herp.

Among the coolest of the creatures were phosphorescent microorganisms, called Pyrodinium bahamense, and flying fish. I discovered the Pyrodinium bahamense as Deb and I sat stargazing at the end the dock. The single-celled organisms put on a show reminiscent of underwater fireflies. As for the flying fish, I found I could coax them into flight by using the beam of my flashlight as bait.

Days on Puerto Rico’s south side were only marginal for herping variety. Puerto Rican racers were supposed to be common in the area, but we saw no signs of the snakes anywhere. We did see lizards by the dozens—and heard them by the hundreds. On one hike, through the Guánica dry forest, nearly every bush had a contingent of tiny lizards scurrying for cover. We also spotted a skink with an iridescent turquoise tail. Unfortunately, it disappeared under the leaf litter before I could identify it. I was glad to have guaranteed snakes to look forward to. Otherwise, I would have had been frustrated. Little lizards can only keep me interested for so long.

Deb and I engaged in a variety of activities that didn’t revolve around looking for reptiles and amphibians. After all, this was supposed to be a girl trip. On one day, we talked our way into a closed state park and went for a peaceful hike along a river—can I help it if my eyes were constantly scanning for herps? Later, we got lost in traffic on the way to a beach, hit a rainstorm, and opted to explore an abandoned lighthouse—was it my fault its walls were crawling with anolis lizards?

After our pleasant stay in southern Puerto Rico, we spent the morning of our last full day driving north across the center of the island. Our journey through the mountainous, moist-forest interior was breathtaking—for both the scenery and the frequency of meeting large delivery trucks on the narrow, winding mountain road.

When we popped out on the northern coast, Deb wanted some beach time. Puerto Rico is infamous for its congested traffic, and when we got caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic near the city of Arecibo, I figured any beach we found would be just as congested. To my surprise, we found a deserted beach three blocks away from the human beehive. Apparently, the overcast sky and relatively cool eighty-degree weather made the beach undesirable for local sunbathers. For Deb and me, however, it was ideal. We spent the next few hours walking the beach, watching hermit crabs, and searching for sea shells.

Just before dark, we met up with Dr. Armando Rodriguez at a bakery in Arecibo and followed him to the Mata de Plátano Field Station and Nature Reserve. As is typical in Puerto Rico, we traveled from busy traffic to tranquil moist-forest in a matter of minutes. Once we reached the field station, and Armando let us through the locked gate, I completely forget I was on an overpopulated island humming with human activity.

As Armando led us down the path to Culebrones Cave, a hard rain began to fall. I was unconcerned about the rain, because I assumed we’d soon be inside the cave. When we arrived, my assumption proved wrong. Before us was an oblong pit, roughly thirty feet wide and fifteen feet deep. The pit dropped straight down in front of a tall rock face, and the entrance to the cave was at the bottom of the pit on the left side.

Descending into the pit would have been difficult in dry conditions. Now, its steep sides were slippery with rain, mud, and bat guano. Fortunately, entering the cave was unnecessary—we had our first Puerto Rican boa in sight!

Deb, Armando, and I swept our flashlights around the pit and counted five boas. Three were hanging from the rock face, and two were on thick, woody vines that crossed in front of the cave entrance.

And then there were the bats! Roughly 300,000 individuals, representing six species, live inside Culebrones Cave. At that moment, they all seemed to be exiting at once. I stood at the edge of the pit as the bats whipped by me. I could feel the wind from their wings, but they never touched me.

The cave was the snake equivalent of a fast food joint. The boa closest to the entrance stretched from the vine, with its mouth open, and soon plucked a bat from the air—or one flew into its mouth, I’m not sure!

Capturing Puerto Rican boas without a permit is illegal, so I couldn’t get an actual measurement. But from where I stood, all the boas looked about six feet long—just under the generally accepted maximum length for the species. Ah, the advantage of unlimited food.

On this night, we observed three boas catching one bat each. Armando stated that on previous nights he had witnessed boas catching and eating as many as three bats apiece.

We may have had guaranteed snakes, but good-quality photos were far from certain. The heavy rain forced me to continually clean my camera lenses, and the darkness made focusing extremely difficult. Thankfully, I do all my photography with digital cameras. Otherwise, I would have had to also deal with changing film.

After a bit, I attempted to venture partway down the pit for a better photographic angle. I promptly slipped, skinning my knee and spattering myself with mud and bat guano. Luckily, I got my shots and climbed back up without breaking any bones or cameras.

The boas were amazing to watch—especially the ones on the rock face. Somehow, they were able to hang on to tiny cracks or ledges with their tails while their bodies swung free. When I was in Zimbabwe, my guide told me the only time he saw boomslangs was when they fell out of trees. With that in mind, I asked Armando, "Have you ever seen a boa fall from the rock face?"

"Never," he said.

Obviously, the boas were much better suited for the conditions than I was.

Our time at Culebrones Cave passed far too quickly. I would have been content watching the amazing, live, nature show all night, but Deb and I still had to eat dinner and drive to our hotel. We thanked Armando for showing us this special place and headed east to San Juan.

Later that evening, we arrived at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Wearing shorts and T-shirts, still damp from the rain and speckled with mud and guano, we approached the reception desk. I couldn’t help smiling at the contrast between me and the woman who preceded us to the counter. She was wearing an elegant dress, and her jewelry was probably worth more than the gross national product of some third-world countries.

Our late arrival was more problematic than our grubby appearance. The desk clerk checked the computer and made a hushed phone call in rapid Spanish. For a second I thought he was going send us away; then he turned to us with a broad smile and said, "I’ve got good news for you. I can give you a complimentary upgrade to a suite!"

Moments later, Deb and I stepped into our luxurious, $1200-per-night suite and burst into laughter. Had two scruffier-looking people ever graced such a stately collection of rooms?

In the morning, we did our best to dress in clothing appropriate for the Ritz and walked across the courtyard to have breakfast. Once we finished our enjoyable meal, we started back only to stop at the sight of an eight-year-old boy standing near a gorgeous, four-foot-long, green iguana.

"Pick it up and put it on your shoulder!" said his mother. "I’ll take your picture."

Although the iguana was obviously habituated to humans, it was still a wild animal. I was about to step in and suggest that razor-sharp claws and human shoulders weren’t a good mix, but boy spoke up first. "No, Mom! Are you crazy?"

Confident that neither the boy nor the iguana would be harmed, I hurried to our suite and grabbed my camera. When I returned, I found the iguana alone on a retaining wall next to one of the tropical gardens. I positioned myself just right and took several stunning pictures. Unless I mentioned it, no one would ever know I photographed the iguana in the midst of a luxury hotel—herpin’ at the Ritz!

Puerto Rico doesn’t have the mystique of the Amazon rainforest or the unique creatures of Borneo. Even so, if you go to the right places, the island can still surprise you with a rewarding adventure. As we headed home, I smiled and said to myself, "Not bad for a girl trip!"

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