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We had nearly made it to the top of the massive pyramid
at Ek Balam (how the Mayans climbed these suckers is a

mystery to me; they were short little guys and the steps were tall
and steep). I happened to glance over to a small shelf adjacent
to the reconstructed steps, only to see an iguana staring back at
me. Iguanas (Ctenosaura similis) are common on and around the
ruins, which provide ample retreats and basking sites while offer-
ing protection officially afforded the ruins, but obviously extend-
ing to their reptilian residents as well.

Having traveled with my father my entire life, I have
learned to expect that some portion of any given trip will involve
time spent with the local fauna. I therefore had no illusions
going into our holiday trip to the Yucatán Peninsula. Truth be
told, I didn’t really mind. It would have been hard growing up
with someone like my dad and not developing an appreciation
for that sort of thing.

We encountered animals with some degree of regularity,
although the weather wasn’t necessarily ideal, particularly for
herps — or the locals, who complained bitterly about the cold.
We, in stark contrast, were glad to be wearing shorts and t-shirts,
while news of snow and ice storms back home dominated the
weather channel.

Our first animal encounter was a Collared Toucan
(Pteroglossus torquatus) that welcomed us to México as we
emerged from the airport. Unfortunately, this was the only tou-
can sighting of the trip. The next day, however, we found some-
thing more up our alley. While wandering around the Mayan
ruins at Chichen Itzá and Ek Balam, we found the iguanas that

had taken up residence there. On one of the smaller structures
at Chichen Itzá, we counted sixteen lizards while standing on
one spot. Although the cool conditions were not what one could
call prime iguana weather, we found more than enough to make
a destination selected for its historical interest more than a little
interesting from a biological perspective. In addition to encoun-
ters at the ruins, we regularly saw iguanas on the grounds of our
resort, where several had taken up residence in rock piles at one

112 IGUANA  •  VOLUME 12, NUMBER 2  •  JUNE 2005 POWELL

T R A V E L O G U E

Mayan Reptiles
Michael A. Powell

Truman State University, Kirksville, Missouri

All photographs by Michael or Robert Powell.

Near the top of the pyramid at Ek Balam, I glanced to the side and
saw an iguana staring back.

A juvenile Ameiva undulata takes advantage of refuges provided by the
crumbling ruins and of the protection afforded this screened stand
supporting an ancient Mayan tablet.

Ctenosaurs (Ctenosaura similis) are abundant on the Mayan ruins at
Chichen Itzá.



IGUANA  •  VOLUME 12, NUMBER 2  •  JUNE 2005 113TRAVELOGUE

end of a large pond with signs that warned us not to feed the
crocodiles. Unfortunately, we never did see the crocs there.

We did, however, see crocs near the archaeological site at
Cobá. My dad was attempting to photograph a Motmot (a bird
with a pair of bizarre tail feathers that appear to be missing por-
tions of their vanes) when a gardener warned him about the
crocs in the lake. Of course, a warning for ordinary folks is a call
to action for us. We quickly crawled through the carefully
trimmed hedges near the shoreline and immediately came upon
a 12-foot-long croc lazily basking in the shallows. Morelet’s
Crocodiles (Crocodylus moreleti) are an endangered species that
once ranged widely through Middle America. Years of exploita-
tion have left only a few occupying isolated enclaves such as the
lakes at Cobá. Here the crocs are relatively common and often
congregate near shore, where locals sometimes feed them scraps
to entertain the tourists. The individuals we encountered were
either well-fed or we didn’t look or smell too tasty, since they
were content to bask as we photographed them to our heart’s
content from only a couple of meters away.

A Turquoise-browed Motmot (Eumomota superciliosa) near the lakes
at the Cobá archaeological site.

These Morelet’s Crocodiles (Crocodylus moreleti) in the lake at Cobá were not at all disturbed by our presence.



It’s hard not to feel some sense of adventure when you’re stand-
ing on top of a pyramid built by a long dead civilization, look-

ing out over a thick, green jungle — even though the person
standing next to you appears to have been getting his senior cit-
izen discount for a good 15 years, ropes and guard rails every-
where try to keep the less coordinated from plummeting to their
deaths, and souvenir shops are visible back where you parked.
Nevertheless, I felt as though I should have donned my fedora
and grabbed my trusty bullwhip before setting out on such an
expedition — but I’m getting somewhat ahead of myself.

The day after arriving in México, we visited Chichen Itzá,
one of the best known of the Mayan ruins that dot the Yucatán
Peninsula and adjacent regions of Central America. I knew
something about the ruins already; my dad had been here 25
years ago, and had given me a bit of a briefing. We paid for our
tickets and entered the park. A short walk from the entrance, we
emerged from the forest into a clearing dominated by a tower-
ing pyramid, every architectural feature of which seemingly rep-
resented some aspect of Mayan astronomy. We set out to climb
the massive structure. We had arrived early in order to avoid the

A Yucatecan Adventure

Perhaps the most interesting encounters involved the high-
way. When traveling, we always stop from time to time to exam-
ine roadkills. Generally, that’s what we find — roadkill. Twice
on this trip, however, we encountered something much more
interesting. We were driving the back roads from Chichen Itzá
to Ek Balam when we saw a fairly large snake in the middle of
the road. Dad immediately said: “Boa!” and hit the brakes. After
a quick U-turn, we were once again approaching the snake and
my dad was turning to pull off to the side of the road. As he
leaned out the window to see if the snake was alive or not, he
failed to see an oncoming car — at least not until my mom
brought him back to reality. Fortunately, dad continued off the
road and the other driver adroitly avoided hitting us. Dad
immediately jumped out of the car and picked up the snake —

a fairly good-sized Boa constrictor. The driver of the other car also
pulled over and got out. To Dad’s dismay, he was wearing the
uniform of the local policia. Dad immediately apologized in his
broken Spanish (I caught the words “estoy idiota”). Fortunately
for us, the policeman seemed a bit taken aback by a gringo who
picks snakes up off the road. He stopped well short of us, asked
if the snake was alive. As dad responded in the affirmative, the
cop smiled nervously, shrugged, got back in his car, and drove
away. We took several photos, which didn’t seem to please the
snake at all — I kind of felt like I was playing paparazzi to the
boa’s Sean Penn as it struck repeatedly at me and the camera.

Later the same day, after touring the archaeological zone of
Ek Balam, we saw another snake crawling across the road. This
time we stopped without incident. Dad immediately recognized
it as a Barba Amarilla (Bothrops asper), one of the more common
snakes in the region and also one of the most dangerous. Having
already experienced the hostility of local reptiles toward pho-
tographers, I opted not to get involved with this one; instead I
merely watched from the car as dad rescued the snake, pho-
tographed it, and then encouraged it to crawl off into the brush
alongside the road.

As our trips to the tropics go, we spent relatively little time
in the Yucatán hunting critters. That said, the time we did spend
was exciting enough (read: had enough near-death experiences)
to keep me satisfied.

114 IGUANA  •  VOLUME 12, NUMBER 2  •  JUNE 2005 POWELL

Rescuing a boa (Boa constrictor) from the highway nearly resulted in
a collision with oncoming traffic.

The Barba Amarilla (Bothrops asper) is a common and deadly snake.




