Yeah, I know. This is a Carolina anole, not a chameleon. When I was a kid, I lusted after chameleons. But anoles change color too, and they were cheaper and easier to find in local pet stores, so that’s what I got.

Carolina anole (Anolis carolensis). Credit: PiccoloNamek. Available under GNU Free Documentation License
I loved my anoles. I fed them mealworms and also caught flies and other bugs to supplement their diet (plus it was more fun to watch them nail a flying insect than a squirming worm). When flies were plentiful in late summer, I used to catch a bunch and freeze them (it was my mother’s idea). Then I’d bring one out, poke a needle through it, and dangle it on a string in the terrarium. My anoles seemed to like this variety.
I haven’t kept anoles for forty years; I don’t enjoy keeping animals in cages or terrariums anymore and don’t frequent pet stores. But as I consider how to make some changes in my blogging habits on biodiversity, pleasant memories of those lizards come to mind.
Those who follow my blog have probably noticed that my series, “Species of the Week” has not lived up to its name for quite awhile. I began last spring with the intention of writing SHORT posts on various species that were distracting me from and inspiring my writing. But I fell into my usual narrative habit of gathering far too much information and writing essays. I enjoyed working on all these pieces, but they took more time than anticipated. This became especially challenging with my remote location and a slow dial-up connection over the summer.
Well, I haven’t had that excuse for several months now. I’m back on broadband now and still not posting once a week. I need to focus on finishing my ethnographic memoir on Nepal. I can’t dedicate hours every week to narrative blog posts; it’s too much like writing a book. I’ve considered a number of options: changing the name so I don’t have a weekly obligation, shortening all the posts, or disappearing from cyberspace for awhile.
At the same time that I’ve been struggling to keep up with this self-imposed commitment, I’ve also discovered through blogging a joy for photography and poetry (I credit my participation in various web communities for that). So I’m going to continue “Species of the Week” but experiment with a new format that allows for more varied posts. I’ll try to get back to a weekly schedule but may muse on some species through poetry, photography, links to other websites and any other means that strikes my fancy. I’ll write longer essays on some species every once in awhile (no promises on frequency, but perhaps once a month or so).
It’s kind of like the diet of captive anoles. Some weeks, you get live flies. Other weeks, mealworms. And some weeks, you’ll have to settle for dead, frozen treats on a string. I figure they’ll all nourish my fascination with exploring biodiversity. I hope they’ll nourish yours as well.
Let me know what you think. And keep in mind that like anoles and chameleons, I may change color again.








I think weekly or even monthly posts on a particular topic can seem daunting after a while – it you can add things like poetry and other things, the variety should make it easier, and maybe also inspiring to the rest of us.
How did you get the embed-thingy from Wikipedia?
Thanks for the support. I’m still playing with the embed-thingy. It’s called Apture and is available as a plugin for WordPress (and perhaps other blogging platforms). You can have pop-ups and embeds for Wikipedia plus stories from major online news sources. Pretty cool.
Though I’m quite good at being capricious, I’ve tried repeatedly to keep up with self-imposed commitments like this: some kind of regular topic or kind of post. What I discovered was that life got in the way every single time, and once out of the habit it felt more than difficult to get back into the habit. I think you have the right idea on approaching it from a different angle. And even if you only did it once a month or once every six or eight weeks or whatever, it would still be a great ongoing series and–for me at least–always a chance to learn.
Thanks, Jason. It helps to know that others are struggling with the same challenge. And I’m heartened to know that you the series is worth continuing in some form or another.