Spain in June is hot. While it’s a busy month for visitors, much of its non-human life forms are in some stage of stasis; the vegetation crunchy and brown, the small animals tucked away in burrows or perhaps humid refugia deep within dry stone walls in old fields. The heat dome is no joke over there.
Detail from Fountain of the Falling Angel, Buen Retiro Park, Madrid
These conditions would play a pivotal role in my ability to observe many reptiles and amphibians. Over the last several years, my interest in the herpetofauna of the Mediterranean region - southern Europe, north Africa, and the Middle East - has spiked tremendously. Complicit in my obsession are herpetologists and authors Philippe Geniez (“Snakes of Europe, North Africa, & the Middle East”) and Jeroen Speybroek (“Field Guide to the Amphibians and Reptiles of Britain and Europe”). These books are essential for enthusiastic novices such as myself if finding some of these animals is a travel goal. And while April and May are undoubtedly better months for herping Spain than mid June, I figured I might luck out with some persistent searching.
Our first stop was the bustling city of Madrid, home to about 3.4 million humans plus the hordes of tourists. Madrid is not known for its biological diversity, for sure, but it’s got an undeniable charm. The mix of old and new appeals to many different kinds of people. I couldn’t help but notice that a very significant percentage of its younger population were sporting tattoos on the backs of their upper arms. Just dainty little tattoos, not the big bold kind. It kind of felt a little like the kanji trend of 2026.
The first reptiles seen were some non-native turtles in a pond outside the Crystal Palace in Buen Retiro Park. Unfortunately, the red-eared slider is established throughout much of Europe, including in the pond. Those were expected. But I was a little surprised to see several cooters and map turtles as well. There was a crowd of tourists throwing bread and other scraps into the pond, which simultaneously attracted the turtles, ducks, pigeons, and carp and created a surreal frenzy wherein each animal pushed and shoved for any tiny morsel. I imagine that these animals have become dependent on these handouts.
To escape the heat, we drove up to Sierra de Guadarrama National Park, a bit north of Madrid. These mountains form a relatively new national park protecting some of central Spain’s greatest concentrations of organisms in need of conservation. The park also preserves some long-held cultural aspects as well, such as cattle ranching, which is not without some controversy.
We arrived at the large and virtually empty parking lot (and I was concerned we’d get there so late in the morning that we’d be turned away from the full lot - ha). We prepared for what I figured might be a tough ascent to the top of Peñalara. Not long into our hike, it was clear my daughter wasn’t having it. So while my wife and daughter stayed behind, I began climbing the rocky switchback trail. At first it was invigorating, but maybe thirty minutes in, I was beginning to feel it. First, I was wearing the absolute wrong shoes. To pack lighter for the trip, I left my hikers home and instead wore casual walking shoes. Big mistake. Then, my knee, which has been bothering me as of late, began to protest the very steep slog. At one point I was ready to give up and just return down hill, but I was nearing the top and felt that if I had gone this far, I may as well just keep going. And man, was I right to do that.
Steep switchback
I reached a juncture. I could continue on to the peak (at 2,428 meters) or choose a greener path through a valley. I wasn’t trying to win an endurance challenge, and there are few reptiles at the barren and windy peak. So I changed course and headed toward what turned out to be one of the most majestic and beautiful places I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. Words cannot accurately convey the place.
Iberian wall lizard (
Podarcis hispanicus)
Northern wheatear
Many tiny streams of snowmelt join to form larger streams of rushing, crystal clear water down the valley. These streams cascade over boulder-strewn hillsides, creating waterfalls and lush, deep green moss. Walking alongside one of these streams, I caught a glimpse of something I didn’t expect to see - a large, boldly patterned fire salamander (Salamandra salamandra) swimming across the surface toward the grassy bank on the other side. This is now how I expected to see my first - or any - fire salamander.
I could have stayed here all day, but my family was hanging around the parking area and small interpretive center, a long hike away. So, now with a pesky toe blister, I headed back down. When I got there, my daughter told me she had seen some lizards around the perimeters of some old stone structures and walls. Together, we looked around and in fact, confirmed the presence of wall lizards. At the base of one of the buildings, I noticed some movement in the tall grass, and I gently cupped my hand over whatever it was and pulled out an Iberian emerald lizard (Lacerta schreiberi). After taking a few photos, I put it back where I found it. A minute later, I was approached by a park worker and gently scolded for touching wildlife in a national park. I completely understood and agreed not to touch any other animals, and she smiled and walked away. But my mind went straight to the hundreds (or thousands) of big, smelly cow pies I passed while up on the mountain, smothering vegetation, and of course to the thought of dozens of cattle coming to drink from the small streams and pools and trampling the delicate margins. Apparently there is an agreement in place between the cattle owners and the park that allows the cattle to continue grazing unabated throughout the park. I understand preserving cultural practices, but, I think sometimes it's okay to throw tradition to the wind. 
Candelario de la serpiente, 1516. In the Segovia Cathedral. "The payments and execution of a large Paschal candle holder with a serpent wound round it are recorded in the early 16th century account books of Segovia cathedral. Thanks to this documentation it is known that in 1516 various payments were made to the wood carver Juan Rodriguez (who made other items for the cathedral such as the walnut lectern for the choir) for carving the candle holder and to the painter Christobal de Sosa for applying the polychromy. This object evokes the serpent of the Garden of Eden wound round a gilded wooden trunk which represents the tree of Good and Evil. The snake has a woman's face and can thus be associated with Eve, the first woman and the initiator of Original Sin, according to the Bible".
Madrid at 4:00 AM
Leaving Madrid, we headed southwest to Seville. If Madrid is the Chicago of Spain, Seville is like its Naperville. Smaller, easier to drive in, and quicker to get out of the city when needed.
View from the hotel
Spanish show about an American movie about a Korean musical group. And they say globalism is a bad thing...
This spectacular ombú "tree" can be found in the former Monastery of Santa Saria de las Cuevas. It began as a seed from South America, collected by Hernando Colón, son of Christopher Columbus, during one of Columbus' voyages across the Atlantic. While it mostly resembles a true tree, it is actually allied with the pokeweeds. At over 500 years of age, this ombú represents the first ever specimen of its kind in Europe.
Flamenco artists in the plazas
In the small village of Aracena, I located the entrance to a narrow road in a quiet corner of town. We decided to walk its length. It was very hot, with temps between 90 and 100 degrees F, but the road was mostly shaded by large trees. The road was like a scene out of a movie - old stone walls, tucked away farms, and gnarled trees and vines. Bucolic. Once we reached the end of this road, we turned back to return to the car. Now, even though the conditions weren't what I considered ideal for snakes, I'm always looking around in places like this. So as we were back near the start of the road, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. To my right, intertwined through an old wire fence, was the biggest horseshoe whipsnake (Hemorrhois hippocrepis) I could imagine. I managed to unravel it from the fence it was clinging to. True to form, it took multiple swings at me, landing a few punches. This was a big, muscular animal that didn't take any shit from anyone or anything. I loved it.
Some local sentiment
In short, Spain was incredible, and in my ideal world I'd visit again and again.
