Ruminations from a Severely Amateur Ethologist

Something that never ceases to amaze me no matter how many times I see it? Animal behavior. The study of animal behavior is called ethology, and one of the reasons I’m so fascinated by it is I know close to nothing about it. Observation leads to curiosity, curiosity leads to questions, and questions inevitably get typed in the Google Scholar search box. In my first month here at Corkscrew, I’ve had a lot of questions. Here’s a brief glimpse into the mind of a severely amateur ethologist:

- What is that colorful flap of skin that anole keeps displaying below its neck?

- Why is it extending that flap of skin? (To threaten? Attract mates? Communicate with conspecifics?)

- Is that flap of skin found on males and females, or is it an example of sexual dimorphism?

- Oh, it’s doing pushups! See second question.

- It’s bobbing its head! See second question.

Exciting stuff, right? The beauty of simple questions like these is that they usually already have answers. That flap of skin? Called a dewlap. Why is it doing “x” behavior? Could be a number of things, but it's probably a method of communication, whether that be to attract mates or establish territorial boundaries, etc. Found on males or females? Dewlaps can be found on both sexes, although it is generally larger and more colorful on males (which could suggest it’s used in sexual selection?). Answered questions usually lead to more questions, which is what I find so alluring about science.

There is something special about viewing an animal in the wild. In the wild, an animal is not a captive spectacle. It is free to behave how it wishes, without the added variables of walls and crowds of strange bipedal creatures staring through the glass. Their behavior is pure, unfiltered. A chance encounter with an endangered Florida Panther (Puma concolor) here at Corkscrew is to me something infinitely more special than seeing one in an exhibit. I value zoos, wildlife centers, and aquariums for their educational objective and making animals most people don’t have the chance to see easily accessible. But I’d still take sitting on the boardwalk for 30 minutes watching the interaction between an invasive Brown Anole (Anolis sagrei) and a native Green Anole (Anolis carolinensis) over going to see lizards at the zoo.

Speaking of that particular interaction between anoles, I had a prediction of what would happen. I thought that the Brown Anole, known and rather scorned for its nonnative, invasive status, would surely be aggressive and chase the Green Anole from its perch on the other end of the railing. Staring through the viewfinder of my camera, I could only see one lizard at a time. I watched the Brown Anole flare its dewlap and perform pushups. Panning the camera, I watched the Green Anole simply sit there. Panning back to the Brown Anole, I saw it dash forward and around the post separating the two. Now they were only about a meter apart, practically face to face. I kept my focus on the Brown Anole. It dashed forward again. This was it! The Brown Anole reached the end of the railing where the Green Anole had been. Wait, where had it gone? I removed my gaze from the narrow perspective of the viewfinder and found my answer. The Green Anole had jumped down to the rail below, avoiding direct contact with the Brown Anole. Both lizards continued in opposite directions, none the worse for wear. Perhaps the Green Anole had been occupying a prime basking spot, or maybe one with better access to other resources like food. Regardless of the reason, the Green Anole had avoided confrontation, allowing the Brown Anole to take its spot without putting up a fight. Knowing this, it’s not surprising that studies have found that Green Anoles have evolved larger, stickier toepads to occupy a new niche, higher up in the trees. Behavior influences evolution, and evolution drives behavior. 

- Randi Bowman, Research Intern