Samuel Purdie is a herpetologist, reptile specialist and naturalist.
Samuel Purdie is a herpetologist, science educator and wildlife photographer who has just published his first book. A Naturalist’s Guide to the Reptiles & Amphibians of New Zealand is a comprehensive photographic identification guide to all 141 reptile and amphibian species of New Zealand.
I always knew I was going to have a job in nature, although my circumstances made it relatively unlikely, as I didn’t have any friends who were interested in wildlife. My family wasn’t especially focused on nature either, they were actually quite religious, but, for some reason, I was always tipping up stones or flipping logs to look for critters. I’m no longer religious but my mum still says she prays for me.
When I was young, growing up in Rotorua, I was always in my own little world, which meant I did sometimes feel like a bit of an odd one out. I’d always be talking about animals, or reading about them, and there were times when I’d be playing with spiders or bringing bugs to school, and my peers would think it was a little bit disgusting. I definitely had moments during childhood when I wondered if I was a bit weird, being the guy who’s into creepy crawlies, but I don’t think I’m weird anymore. At least not too weird.
The first time I saw native lizards in the wild was when we visited my uncle’s farm in Canterbury when I was about 7 years old. We found these amazing skinks in the overgrown grass and I had no idea what they were but I was utterly transfixed. When we were preparing to leave, I was keen to take some of those reptiles home with me, but my family said I probably shouldn’t. I’m glad they said that, because I’ve since learned our native reptiles are protected by law and a Tupperware container is no home for a lizard.
For a long time, I didn’t know about the wealth of reptiles we had in New Zealand, so I always envisaged that I’d have to go overseas, to work with the creatures I’d admired on television or in books. But Aotearoa is actually full of reptiles and amphibians, with 141 species that we know of.
For the past four years, since I’ve been at Otago University studying zoology and ecology, I have come to realise how remarkably diverse Aotearoa’s lizard life is. The more I learn, the more I realise how little we know about reptiles, and that’s partly why herpetology is such a fascinating field, because there’s still so much to discover.
Lizards are stunning and so aesthetically pleasing. Some are sleek and glossy, others are chunky, with really pronounced scales. Some of our lizards live at the tops of mountains that are covered in snow for more than half of the year and others live on the balmy coasts of Northland. They are also very cryptic creatures. This makes them challenging to find, and thrilling when you do locate them.
Fieldwork is one of my favourite things about herpetology, as it often takes me to remote parts of the country. Sometimes I’ll stay in a hut, and other times I’ll hike long distances or even jump in a helicopter. For my Master’s thesis, which is on the alpine geckos of North Otago, I am fortunate to be able to drive to my site. This is very convenient, although I do need a four-wheel drive, as it is still quite hard to access. It’s generally not dangerous work. The worst thing a herpetologist can expect is to be greeted with a bit of gecko poop or a little bite and twist, and of course we have to be cautious when working in alpine settings.
To most people, the Awakōpaka skink [Oligosoma awakopaka] is nothing more than a tiny brown skink, but their ecology is remarkable. They are only known to live in a sliver of habitat in a single, remote valley where they are subjected to rock falls and avalanches and the land is covered in snow for more than half of the year. Then there’s the Fiordland skink [Oligosoma acrinasum]. It’s found on just a handful of rocky islets off the coast where they’re known to dive into the frigid, violent waves to disperse between islands. I find it astonishing that a cold-blooded scaly creature willingly dives into freezing water.
Or the hura te ao gecko [Mokopirirakau galaxias]. Its name refers to the break of dawn and it was only discovered in 2018. I especially love how its colouration ranges from olive to grey and black with fine white speckles that resemble the galaxies of the night sky. They also have deep dark round eyes, and they’re only found in a small handful of alpine rocky sites that are also covered in snow half the year. It stirs my soul to know that they’ve been looking out over the landscape since well before humans arrived, yet we’ve had no idea they were there.
I wish the rainbow skink [Lampropholis delicata] hadn’t been rebranded as the plague skink. These creatures arrived in the country relatively recently, then started spreading. Recent research suggests that they do bear ecological similarities to some of our native lizards, and several core components of competition do exist. However, the actual consequences of this are not properly understood. There is certainly no robust evidence that suggests they are problematic for our native lizard populations. Which is why I think it’s unwise to refer to them as the “plague” skink. That name has such negative connotations and might lead some people to go out of their way to kill those animals. Yet, most people won’t know how to differentiate between a native skink or the exotic variety, then they might kill a native skink by mistake because of something they saw on Facebook.
Globally, one of the greatest threats to wildlife is land development with many local lizards under threat thanks to habitat modification for farming. One of the things we can all do to help minimise our impact is to reduce our meat and dairy intake. Pet owners also need to be more responsible. I’m not suggesting cat genocide, but we need to do something to address how we keep animals as pets, because ultimately we want to have native wildlife, everything from invertebrates, birds and reptiles, flourishing in cities and in our backyards.
It’s also important for people to talk about wildlife in positive terms. If parents say “ooh, yuck, spider”, then their kids will grow up thinking the same thing. But if we show respect for our diversity of animals, and if people are aware of how important each creature is to the ecosystem as a whole, then they’ll be more inclined to protect them, whether it’s by planting native trees, respecting habitat, or setting traps, because reptiles and amphibians are astonishing creatures with simple inherent value, which is why we need to look after them.
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