Ruud Kleinpaste
Bugman Ruud Kleinpaste on how to identify and trap an exotic interloper posing a threat to a native species.
Bugman takes on the plague skink.
aas a true nature nerd, I have always been interested in a wide range of lifeforms, not just insects or invertebrates.
As I look out my office window,
I am constantly distracted by flocks of silvereyes rummaging through the flowers of a good-sized fatsia shrub, hoovering up all the nectar they can get, before inspecting a nearby camellia in full bloom.
Yes, birds were my very first hobby at the ripe young age of seven.
Now there are fungi and moulds and lichens, all grabbing my attention as well as leaf shapes and vein patterns. Just look down in autumn and winter, and you’ll find growth everywhere in amongst the decaying leaves that reveal their venation design in the form of skeletons.
While you are turning over rocks and large branches, don’t be surprised to come across the odd hibernating skink or gecko – and there’s always something magical about these cold-blooded reptiles. Their exothermal strategies remind me somewhat of invertebrates – you find some sunlight on a relatively warm rock and
I bet you there’s a bug or a lizard nearby, soaking up the heat!
In our Auckland garden we used to be surrounded by so-called rainbow skinks (what a cool name). They were everywhere. The best way to describe them: a small greybrown skink with a dark brown, lateral stripe along the body. When they are sunbathing it is easy to find a spectacular rainbow-coloured sheen on their scales. These are fast reptiles, relying on their speed to avoid capture.
These fascinating and quite pretty animals are actually Australian interlopers, arriving here in the 1960s. They are numerous and aggressive, apparently, accused of eating our native invertebrates and ousting our timid native skink species through competition for space, habitat and food. They may even eat the smallest members of the native skink community.
I had a look through literature but could not find any published evidence that this Australian skink species actually does all these dastardly things in and to our environment. Nobody has ever measured their impact and from a scientific perspective, we really haven’t got a clue.
Nevertheless, they are classed as invasive here in New Zealand and if we look at their track record in Hawaii (established there since the early 1900s), I would not be at all surprised if we find out, eventually, that these skinks are having an impact on our herpetological fauna and perhaps other delicate ecological balances.
Isn’t it ironic that this skink’s scientific name is Lampropholis delicata?
And scientists and biosecurity creatives have renamed them the
Plague skinks are numerous and aggressive, accused of eating our native invertebrates and ousting our timid native skink species through competition for space, habitat and food.
plague skink in an attempt to limit their spread and potential impact.
At this stage, it looks like the North Island is its home here. A few recent South Island incursions (Marlborough-Havelock areas) are being investigated and targeted for plague skink removal, which will be a heck of a job!
It’s not easy to trap or capture them, as there are non-target, native skinks too. Having said that, it appears from some work done on Aotea (Great Barrier Island) that chickens could well be the best destroyers of plague skinks.
Our best approach is to be aware of them and learn to tell them apart from our native skinks. Right in the centre of its head – right on top and between the eyes – is a large diamond-shaped scale. That is the plague skink.
A nest of 8mm white eggs… that’s plague skinks too!
Our native representatives have two smaller scales in the same position. Once you know what to look for, you can’t really miss the interloper.
If you’re sure you can tell them apart, try catching and dispatching them. Please don’t think they are great “pets” for your kids or grandkids, because they are not!
Kids, of course, can build special skink gardens and become reptile detectives by setting tracking tunnels, baited with blobs of peanut butter. (Lizards leave identifiable tracks on the white cardboard.)
Another crucial thing to be aware of: these slippery customers are experts at hiding in boxes, plant pots, containers, furniture, cars, luggage, campervans, you name it!
This means that parcels and vehicles destined for the South Island (or special off-shore conservation islands) have to be thoroughly checked for stowaway skinks.
Once again, the concept of biosecurity sneaks back into the garden!