floridensis
beneath the spanish moss with janson jones
Iguana iguana, 10 July 2011
Iguana iguana, the Green iguana;
Monroe county, Florida (10 July 2011).
A non-native species now well-established throughout south Florida, the Green iguana is considered a nuisance by many because they can do some serious damage to the best laid residential landscaping plans… Still, when I see iguanas, especially one lounging at the edge of a Key West pool, I find myself, well, green with envy. These emerald tanks have quite the gig going.
Anolis carolinensis, 03 March 2012
Anolis carolinensis, the Carolina green anole;
Lake county, Florida (03 March 2012).
A fiesty Carolina green anole, a male, fighting for territory. I watched this and another male battle each other for a bit, each fighting for prime real estate upon which to impress potential females passing by. Note the crested ridge along its back casting that sharp shadow downwards. Cresting is more associated with other non-native anoles in Florida, but Carolina green anoles can crest with the best of them — from time to time. This one had some serious posture-n-pose game.
Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis, 10 June 2020
Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis, the Eastern garter snake;
Volusia county, Florida (10 June 2020).
Garter snakes vary enormously across their North American range. In my region of Florida (Northeast central), they tend to sport a fantastic and fabulous blue-green base tone. I may admire the reds of the Pacific Northwest and the yellows of the Great Plains, but, my oh my, I do love the blue-green garters of Volusia and Flagler, Florida!
Anolis garmani, 06 August 2017
Anolis garmani, the Jamaican giant anole;
Miami-Dade county, Florida (06 August 2017).
The Jamaican giant anole is, as you might guess from its name, a non-native species now established in isolated pockets of south Florida. Though not widespread or abundant, I have seen this species a couple of times in Miami-Dade county. Sometimes they show up; most of the time they don’t. A “crown-giant ecomorph,” this species is adapted to living very high in trees where it can hunt a variety of arboreal prey. Though they are much larger than their lower-lying Anolis relatives, they can sometimes be difficult to spot because of their typical elevated lifestyle.
Pantherophis alleghaniensis, 17 May 2009
Pantherophis alleghaniensis, the Eastern rat snake;
Columbia county, Florida (17 May 2009).
The Yellow rat snake is one of several regional variants of the Eastern rat snake. In much of peninsular Florida, this is the typical appearance of the Eastern rat snake — Yellow base tone with dark stripes. It is one of our larger species, ranging anywhere from two to six feet in length. An excellent and agile climber, the Yellow rat snake is not aggressive and actually quite beneficial to have on one’s property. If any rodents show up, the Eastern rat snake will deal with the rising problem. This species is unaggressive and entirely non-venomous.
Nerodia taxispilota, 06 June 2004
Nerodia taxispilota, the Brown watersnake;
Lake county, Florida (06 June 2004).
The Brown watersnake is the “most arboreal” non-venomous watersnake found in Florida; they often bask on limbs overhanging freshwater bodies of water. If you ever hear a story about a cottonmouth falling into a boat, kayak, or canoe, there’s a decent chance that was actually a Brown watersnake. That’s on par for their behavior (their defensive mode is to simply slip from their perch into the water below) and not so much for cottonmouths (which don’t typically climb limbs and perch over water). As with all of Florida’s Nerodia watersnakes, the Brown water snake is non-venomous and non-aggressive, though they can certainly huff and puff a nice a defensive display when they are cornered on land.
Agkistrodon conanti, 14 March 2018
Agkistrodon conanti, the Florida cottonmouth;
Monroe county, Florida (14 March 2018).
My entire life I’ve been told —again and again— that cottonmouths are aggressive. I have yet to encounter or meet an aggressive cottonmouth, and I’ve encountered many cottonmouths. Instead, what I usually encounter is a cautious, shy, and defensive animal. When they don’t quickly retreat into the water or adjacent cover, they’ll simply hold their position and flash a defensive display, as seen in this image. Occasionally they’ll bluff-strike a bit, but that’s usually a last resort (when I get a bit too close for their comfort). Truly, the Florida cottonmouth is a misunderstood and misrepresented organism. It’s among the easiest serpent species to work with, but it’s also one I’m always very careful with. The Florida cottonmouth is, after all, venomous and always to be treated with utmost respect and due caution whenever encountered and observed.
Acrolophus plumifrontella, 15 July 2013
Acrolophus plumifrontella, the Eastern grass tubeworm moth;
Lowndes county, Georgia (15 July 2013).
When I returned to the American southeast after four years in Alaska, I found myself transfixed by the moths of southern Georgia. Though I’ve always liked them, I learned to look more closely. What I found was an array of biodiversity, texture, and patterning. They may be small, but if you slow down, zoom in, and look closely, you’ll see remarkable intrigue and uniqueness. Truly, I adore moths. How many Eastern grass tubeworm moths did I walk by before learning to look more closely?
Pachygrapsus transversus, 01 July 2019
Pachygrapsus transversus, the Mottled shore crab;
Flagler county, Florida (01 July 2019).
The Mottled shore crab isn’t one of our most-commonly-observed local crustaceans, but I find them an absolute delight whenever I do manage to spot them — which tends to only be along the limestone-strewn, rocky shoreline of southern Flagler county. Though they range throughout much of Florida’s Atlantic coast, around the Gulf of Mexico’s perimeter, and even throughout much of the Caribbean, I really only have experience with them in the Flagler region. This is a good enough reason for me to trek north from time to time!
Anasaitis canosa, 02 September 2012
Anasaitis canosa, the Twinflagged jumping spider;
Lowndes county, Georgia (02 September 2012).
A wee scamper, this Twinflagged jumping spider made me work hard to get this shot — the clearest I could manage. The spider kept darting left and right, forward and back — wash, rinse, repeat. Jumping spiders are tiny little explosions of seemingly perpetual energy.
Anolis cybotes, 21 January 2017
Anolis cybotes, the Hispaniolan stout anole;
Broward county, Florida (21 January 2017).
Anolis cybotes is native to Hispaniola (southeast of Cuba), but they are now lightly established in a few pockets of southeast Florida, particularly in Broward and Palm Beach counties. As is the case with the A. sagrei (the Cuban brown anole), A. cybotes is a trunk-ground ecomorph, meaning its body is designed to perch head-down on lower tree trunks and other structures in search of prey. Once prey is spotted, it’ll jump down to the ground to quickly catch it. Trunk-ground ecomorph anoles are generally brown or tan in base coloring and sport a body built optimized for quick jumping and scampering to catch their prey.
Schistocerca damnifica, 04 January 2015
Schistocerca damnifica, the Mischievous bird grasshopper;
Volusia county, Florida (04 January 2015).
Arguably the finest damn name in all of Orthoptera. Say it with me: Schistocerca… DAMNIFICA! That is one hell of an excellent name. Damn! The Mischievous bird grasshopper is fairly abundant in my home territory –I see them regularly-, but I don’t really know why they’re called “mischievous.” They’re pretty shy and wily, as most grasshoppers tend to be. Not nearly as mischievous as their lubber cousins. The damn definitely applies, though, because Damn! Looks at that sucker go!
Megatibicen auletes, 18 June 2013
Megatibicen auletes, the Northern dusk singing cicada;
Lowndes county, Georgia (18 June 2013).
One significant benefit of living in South Georgia for two years or so was the hyper-abundance of cicadas each summer season — especially with this tank, the Northern dusk singing cicada. This is the Bruce Springsteen of cicadas. Clearly the boss, and I couldn’t get enough of the compound eyes set outside that fabulous triple-set of jewel-like ocelli. A truly strange and brilliant creature. Boss-level: Maximum.
Pachydiplax longipennis, 12 June 2013
Pachydiplax longipennis, the Blue dasher;
Lowndes county, Georgia (12 June 2013).
Though they range far beyond the area, I positively adored the density of Blue dashers in Lowndes county, Georgia. Sure, this species ranges all the way west to California, northwest to Washington, and northeast to Maine, but southern Georgia was like an extended Odonatan rave of Blue dashers darting about on ecstasy. They were, in a word, abundant.
Enaphalodes rufulus, 26 May 2020
Enaphalodes rufulus, the Red oak boarer;
Volusia county, Florida (26 May 2020).
As the relaunch of Floridensis pushes forward, it’s time for our first Coleopteran beetle post. Here, then, is a fairly lovely Red oak boarer hanging out on our Ormond Beach back patio window a few years back. A member of Family Cerambycidae, the longhorn beetles, the Red oak boarer can do quite a number on some local oak tree populations during its two-year life cycle, especially when they reproduce in great numbers. They do, after all, boar into Quercus oaks.
Egretta thula, 11 August 2015
Egretta thula, the Snowy egret;
Volusia county, Florida (11 August 2015).
Easily one of my favorite avian species in Florida, the Snowy egret is frequently found in, on, around, and above nearly any body of water — fresh or salt, natural or artificial. Seriously, I see them strutting about damn near everywhere, be it the edge of the Atlantic coastline or a shopping center retention pond. It’s all good, and the Snowy egret has on time to complain.
Lontra canadensis, 30 April 2020
Lontra canadensis, the North American river otter;
Volusia county, Florida (30 April 2020)
River otters aren’t the easiest to photograph in my neck of the woods. When I come across them, they’re typically swimming about dark tannic waters bathed in dark canopied shadows. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a River otter simply stop and look at me. In a sense, they always seem to show off. They’ll dart and swim about, roll in circles and loops, frothing and dashing their way through the water. Active little heathens!
Alligator mississippiensis, 14 March 2021
Alligator mississippiensis, the American alligator.
Monroe county, Florida (14 March 2021).
A nearly-mythic archosaur originating millions of years ago and persisting into the Anthropocene of today, the American alligator is an iconic, everyday creature for me. They’re more common now than they were when I was a kid in the 1970s. Once upon an ago, the American alligator’s numbers were decimated due to unregulated hunting. With environmental protections set in place, however, their numbers steadily grew across their range. Today, American alligators are once again well-situated throughout the Floridian peninsula and elsewhere across their range.
Apalone ferox, 15 March 2019
Apalone ferox, the Florida softshell;
Miami-Dade county, Florida (15 March 2019).
Perhaps my favorite Testudines species in the state, this is the ignoble-yet-awesome Florida softshell turtle. They’re very shy, much faster on land than you’d expect, and quite snappy if handled (for good reason, mind you). Attitude is their collective middle name, and I love that about them. I’m always delighted to come across a Florida soft-shell lolling about on shore after a nice rain.
Anolis equestris, 11 June 2016
Anolis equestris, the Cuban knight anole;
Miami-Dade county, Florida (11 June 2016).
A non-native species now well-established throughout south Florida. They’ve recent begun showing up as far north as even Volusia county. A crown-giant ecomorph, the Cuban knight anole is much, much larger than our native Carolina green anoles (Anolis carolinensis). They’re also damn hard to catch by hand!
Sistrurus miliarius barbouri, 12 May 2021
Sistrurus miliarius barbouri, the Dusky pigmy rattlesnake;
Volusia county, Florida (12 May 2021).
About two years after retiring Floridensis.com, I’ve decided to resurrect and reboot the site from scratch. I’d shifted to mainly posting directly on Twitter (because this is a social media universe), but Twitter’s recent changes and subsequent behaviors have lulled me back into website land. I’ll post images directly to this website and then perhaps share the posts (with images) elsewhere. I really don’t want to rely on an external network, though, so I’m bringing it all back home.
As the site grows, you’ll notice how particular I am when it comes to organization and tagging. Each image will be categorized and/or tagged cladistically and even by location (to the county). In short, once the photos start to stack up (and they most certainly will start to stack up), I like for them to be organizable and filterable by the user — almost like a reference guide. Lack of organization was always my least favorite aspect of social media.
Each post/image will always be accompanied with a caption detailing species, location, and date. In the recent past, I generally haven’t written too much on most posts. I generally see this more as a photo stream than as a proper blog… Still, I may do a bit more writing with this iteration of Floridensis.
Throughout December, I’ll be posting and tinkering with the design of the site; I have to catch up on WordPress upgrades over the past few years. In my mind, I’m aiming for a January 2023 full launch, but I’ll be posting throughout December in order to set up categories and site infrastructure. A nice way to start the New Year and perhaps inspire myself to get out more. The past few years have been downers on my end of the wires, and I’ve been lacking much of my outdoorsy motivation. I plan spending a lot more of 2023 (and beyond) outdoors.
As for this photo, this is a lovely Dusky pigmy rattlesnake, an extremely abundant species throughout my neck of the Floridian peninsula (especially around parts of the Tomoka State Park and Bulow Creek State Park complex). Though venomous, this is a shy, small, and reclusive species. They are not aggressive in the slightest, though they will sometimes spazz out a bit as a defensive display. This species is my most-commonly-observed species where I live. I adore them!
~ Janson
floridensis 