The skinks I saw were, it turns out, the lovely male broad-headed skink (a skink worth looking at, and I may have to do a painting of one at some point–his head was a wonderful coppery orange shade–and what I think was a southern coal skink.
Southern Coal Skink
Skinks are so cool. They’re all rubbery looking, but they move with that ha-ha-I’m-not-a-mammal kind of whippy speed. The broad-headed skink actually went up a tree when I finally moved and startled him, which surprised me. I know intellectually that lizards hang out in trees all over the place, there are plenty of arboreal lizards, my Dad had emerald tree boas for a bit that he had to feed with pinky mice in a bird’s nest to get ’em to eat–but the back of my brain still secretly believes that in a sane, normal world, reptiles are on the ground and birds are in the air. If I ever visit a tropical rainforest (and god, someday I hope I do) there will be a rude awakening somewhere back in the lobes.