Lacerta Bilineata
A Hopeful Tale (read info text for story)
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
My best photos (mostly not yet on Flickr) are here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
This gorgeous male western green lizard (Lacerta bilineata) has a special place in my heart, because the fella was the first representative of his species that took permanent residence in my garden again after the previous population had largely disappeared by the end of 2022.
I already wrote at length about that tragedy here www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/52608149929/in/datepo... , so I'll spare you the details. In short, both of my neighbors on either side of my house got young cats at the same time, and the lizards (and snakes and young birds and many other tiny animals) didn't stand a chance. Once the cats started hunting, it only took a few weeks until most of the western green lizards in my garden were gone.
I was heartbroken, but you have to understand that I didn't blame the cats. They only followed their instincts (I grew up with feline pets myself, and I adore them); it's us humans who cause problems wherever we go. Be it through our own direct actions or by wreaking havoc on an ecosystem, when we ignorantly introduce new predators against which the local fauna hasn't had a chance to adapt yet.
2023 saw my garden almost devoid of reptiles, but by the end of that year I had finally come up with a plan. By now I knew there wasn't much I could do to keep the cats out of my garden. I had tried storming out of the house and yelling like a madman every time I saw one of my furry neighbors set a paw on my premises, but the only one I managed to scare away permanently was the poor mail lady, while the cats would be back on the prowl within minutes.
So that didn't work, and I knew I didn't want to go for a tech option (like an ultrasonic device) that would probably have an impact on other wildlife as well. This meant I had to find a solution that would include the cats and deal with the reality that they were here to stay: I had to think like a military strategist and "accept the facts on the ground".
Which brings me to my plan, because said "ground", as I had come to realize, was a key factor that had contributed to my reptile population's demise. After a thorough analysis of the terrain it had become painfully obvious to me that there simply weren't enough spots in my garden where a lizard of 40 centimeters length could hide from a predator.
Even though a few years back I had partially removed the atrocious turf rolls my mom had put in the upper part of the garden and planted flowers to attract swallowtails, I'd never really changed the topography of the landscape enough to provide "emergency hideouts" for my reptile friends. What my little oasis needed was a real make-over, and in February 2024 I finally started to take action.
I first removed what remained of the turf-roll lawn completely and scattered wildflower seeds everywhere (which didn't go unnoticed by several hungry onlookers - though that's a story for another time), then the real work began. For several weeks, my daily morning routine consisted of going into the nearby forest and picking up rocks of all shapes and sizes, until two huge plastic bags were filled to the point where I could just about still haul my daily "harvest" back home without help.
It was a truly herculean task, and all this shlepping drew concerned eyes from all around: my fellow villagers (who, due to my infatuation with "creepy crawlies", had always thought me slightly nutty anyway) gave me looks that left in no doubt they were thinking I had finally gone off the deep end and was building some sort of pharaonic monument in my garden :-)
Nevertheless, I continued my work until the growing pile of rocks in front of my house indeed threatened to resemble an Egyptian pyramid, at which I point I switched to collecting wood. Parts of dead tree roots, branches, twigs and half decayed tree trunks: everything I was able to move with my bare hands went into my garden, until I thought I had enough material to build brush- and rock-piles of different sizes all over the premises.
This was by far my favorite part of the whole endeavor: "sculpting" the landscape and turning my garden into what I hoped would be a haven for lizards and wildlife in general. Reptiles are ectotherms and thus love to bask, particularly in the morning and evening, so wherever the first - and last - rays of sunshine touched my garden, that's where I put the piles. I also made sure that these "lizard lounges" were never far apart, so that any small creature in my garden didn't have to cross wide open spaces without any cover nearby.
Then it was finally time to enjoy the "fruits" of my labor; I could sit back and watch how the vegetation slowly started transforming the structures I had built, and how they became populated with insects, spiders, small rodents and common wall lizards, while the wildflower meadow virtually exploded with colors by early summer (you can see the transformation of my garden for yourself in case you're interested, I documented most of the steps in a blog post on my website here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/post/attract-lizards-to-your-ga... ) .
Already in May and June that year I got a few visits from snakes and western green lizards, though at that point they only seemed to pass through without the intention to stay. But towards the end of the warm season, my little oasis finally got discovered by someone looking for a new home, which brings me to the fella in the photo above.
One day in late August I encountered a huge male western green lizard in the upper part of my garden, and I found him again in the exact same spot the very next day. And the day after that, and all through autumn, until temperatures got too cold and he disappeared. But in spring 2025, he reemerged (in case you wondered, every individual has unique scale patterns on the face, so it's easy to identify them - at least in photos), and he soon presented himself in the magnificent blue "wedding colors" you see in the shot.
I was already over the moon that I seemed to have one permanent resident, but it got even better. Over the course of the year, he was joined by three more individuals of his species: another adult male, a juvenile (probably also male) and an adult female. I would find them every day in their favorite basking spots (though never together), and I noticed with great satisfaction that they liked to hang out exactly where I had predicted they would (I was able to film them too, in case you're interested, here's the video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=_t_F4Nm2yBA ).
Despite the constant presence of the cats and other predators such as several green whip snakes (Hierophis viridiflavus) who, to my great joy, now also appeared to live in my garden, this small population of western green lizards seems to have made it through the year unscathed. In early October they all disappeared, presumably - hopefully - because they moved into their winter quarters, and I can't wait to greet them again once they reemerge, which could be any day now.
Whether this tiny population has a chance at long-term survival remains to be seen, but I'm hopeful: because nature almost always bounces back. All we have to do, is give it chance. The few minor "modifications" I had made to my garden were enough to trigger a wonderful domino effect.
The brush-piles and dead wood lured myriads of tiny insects to my little wildlife haven, which in turn attracted wrens and shrews and many other creatures that I'd never been able to observe and photograph in my garden before - and I never would have expected such immediate progress!
Sure, it had been a little shlepping and other manual work, but the effort was well worth it, and I can only recommend other nature lovers do the same. My garden really is a colorful paradise now; my camera is busy all year, and I often feel like an explorer going on a safari with all the many sightings of new and returning species.
And I'm happy to report that, eventually, I even spotted the mail lady tentatively approach my house again ;-)
As always, many thanks for reading and commenting: have a great start into the new week everyone! ❤🙏😊
A Hopeful Tale (read info text for story)
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
My best photos (mostly not yet on Flickr) are here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
This gorgeous male western green lizard (Lacerta bilineata) has a special place in my heart, because the fella was the first representative of his species that took permanent residence in my garden again after the previous population had largely disappeared by the end of 2022.
I already wrote at length about that tragedy here www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/52608149929/in/datepo... , so I'll spare you the details. In short, both of my neighbors on either side of my house got young cats at the same time, and the lizards (and snakes and young birds and many other tiny animals) didn't stand a chance. Once the cats started hunting, it only took a few weeks until most of the western green lizards in my garden were gone.
I was heartbroken, but you have to understand that I didn't blame the cats. They only followed their instincts (I grew up with feline pets myself, and I adore them); it's us humans who cause problems wherever we go. Be it through our own direct actions or by wreaking havoc on an ecosystem, when we ignorantly introduce new predators against which the local fauna hasn't had a chance to adapt yet.
2023 saw my garden almost devoid of reptiles, but by the end of that year I had finally come up with a plan. By now I knew there wasn't much I could do to keep the cats out of my garden. I had tried storming out of the house and yelling like a madman every time I saw one of my furry neighbors set a paw on my premises, but the only one I managed to scare away permanently was the poor mail lady, while the cats would be back on the prowl within minutes.
So that didn't work, and I knew I didn't want to go for a tech option (like an ultrasonic device) that would probably have an impact on other wildlife as well. This meant I had to find a solution that would include the cats and deal with the reality that they were here to stay: I had to think like a military strategist and "accept the facts on the ground".
Which brings me to my plan, because said "ground", as I had come to realize, was a key factor that had contributed to my reptile population's demise. After a thorough analysis of the terrain it had become painfully obvious to me that there simply weren't enough spots in my garden where a lizard of 40 centimeters length could hide from a predator.
Even though a few years back I had partially removed the atrocious turf rolls my mom had put in the upper part of the garden and planted flowers to attract swallowtails, I'd never really changed the topography of the landscape enough to provide "emergency hideouts" for my reptile friends. What my little oasis needed was a real make-over, and in February 2024 I finally started to take action.
I first removed what remained of the turf-roll lawn completely and scattered wildflower seeds everywhere (which didn't go unnoticed by several hungry onlookers - though that's a story for another time), then the real work began. For several weeks, my daily morning routine consisted of going into the nearby forest and picking up rocks of all shapes and sizes, until two huge plastic bags were filled to the point where I could just about still haul my daily "harvest" back home without help.
It was a truly herculean task, and all this shlepping drew concerned eyes from all around: my fellow villagers (who, due to my infatuation with "creepy crawlies", had always thought me slightly nutty anyway) gave me looks that left in no doubt they were thinking I had finally gone off the deep end and was building some sort of pharaonic monument in my garden :-)
Nevertheless, I continued my work until the growing pile of rocks in front of my house indeed threatened to resemble an Egyptian pyramid, at which I point I switched to collecting wood. Parts of dead tree roots, branches, twigs and half decayed tree trunks: everything I was able to move with my bare hands went into my garden, until I thought I had enough material to build brush- and rock-piles of different sizes all over the premises.
This was by far my favorite part of the whole endeavor: "sculpting" the landscape and turning my garden into what I hoped would be a haven for lizards and wildlife in general. Reptiles are ectotherms and thus love to bask, particularly in the morning and evening, so wherever the first - and last - rays of sunshine touched my garden, that's where I put the piles. I also made sure that these "lizard lounges" were never far apart, so that any small creature in my garden didn't have to cross wide open spaces without any cover nearby.
Then it was finally time to enjoy the "fruits" of my labor; I could sit back and watch how the vegetation slowly started transforming the structures I had built, and how they became populated with insects, spiders, small rodents and common wall lizards, while the wildflower meadow virtually exploded with colors by early summer (you can see the transformation of my garden for yourself in case you're interested, I documented most of the steps in a blog post on my website here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/post/attract-lizards-to-your-ga... ) .
Already in May and June that year I got a few visits from snakes and western green lizards, though at that point they only seemed to pass through without the intention to stay. But towards the end of the warm season, my little oasis finally got discovered by someone looking for a new home, which brings me to the fella in the photo above.
One day in late August I encountered a huge male western green lizard in the upper part of my garden, and I found him again in the exact same spot the very next day. And the day after that, and all through autumn, until temperatures got too cold and he disappeared. But in spring 2025, he reemerged (in case you wondered, every individual has unique scale patterns on the face, so it's easy to identify them - at least in photos), and he soon presented himself in the magnificent blue "wedding colors" you see in the shot.
I was already over the moon that I seemed to have one permanent resident, but it got even better. Over the course of the year, he was joined by three more individuals of his species: another adult male, a juvenile (probably also male) and an adult female. I would find them every day in their favorite basking spots (though never together), and I noticed with great satisfaction that they liked to hang out exactly where I had predicted they would (I was able to film them too, in case you're interested, here's the video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=_t_F4Nm2yBA ).
Despite the constant presence of the cats and other predators such as several green whip snakes (Hierophis viridiflavus) who, to my great joy, now also appeared to live in my garden, this small population of western green lizards seems to have made it through the year unscathed. In early October they all disappeared, presumably - hopefully - because they moved into their winter quarters, and I can't wait to greet them again once they reemerge, which could be any day now.
Whether this tiny population has a chance at long-term survival remains to be seen, but I'm hopeful: because nature almost always bounces back. All we have to do, is give it chance. The few minor "modifications" I had made to my garden were enough to trigger a wonderful domino effect.
The brush-piles and dead wood lured myriads of tiny insects to my little wildlife haven, which in turn attracted wrens and shrews and many other creatures that I'd never been able to observe and photograph in my garden before - and I never would have expected such immediate progress!
Sure, it had been a little shlepping and other manual work, but the effort was well worth it, and I can only recommend other nature lovers do the same. My garden really is a colorful paradise now; my camera is busy all year, and I often feel like an explorer going on a safari with all the many sightings of new and returning species.
And I'm happy to report that, eventually, I even spotted the mail lady tentatively approach my house again ;-)
As always, many thanks for reading and commenting: have a great start into the new week everyone! ❤🙏😊