Correlophus spinatus

Poking its wide head out of a basket-grass thicket, a terracotta-colored lizard surveys its surroundings. It scurries out, ducks under a rock, then quietly climbs up to bask on its warm surface. This little guy is a survivor - it's one of only a handful of geckos that can handle an environment like this one, more than two kilometers above sea level and in the midst of a weeks-long drought. It repositions itself, turning so its tail faces the oncoming wind. As it warms, it prepares to set out in search of the only reliable water source in its territory. The soft, water-filled stems of B. hydrosorptor will sustain it until the rains return.

Once its body reaches a sufficient temperature, it begins its daily journey. It knows the locations of at least five hydro-stalks. Unfortunately, all of them are now dying, pushed to their breaking point by the gecko's repeated attacks. Perhaps if it leaves them alone, they might recover in a few weeks' time. The lizard doesn't have the foresight to plan this consciously; it simply knows that its water sources are drying up and that it needs to find a fresh one if it wants to survive. As such, it travels farther than usual, past the ridge where it usually turns back, spotting a fresh, juicy stem not far off. Of course, for this eight-centimeter reptile, the 100-meter trek may as well be a marathon. Having no other option, though, it sets off, marching centimeter by centimeter closer to its next drink.

In the blink of an eye, a sandy-yellow bird leaps from its hiding place. The kiwi closes the distance between itself and its prey in seconds, using its needle-like beak to pluck the helpless lizard off the ground. It tosses it in the air, tilts its head back to catch it, and prepares to swallow it whole. It struggles, trying to fit the little gecko into its gullet. Its efforts are unsuccessful; the head of C. spinatus is decorated with a pair of wide, sideways-pointing spines, each of which is almost a third of the critter's entire body length. The kiwi gives up its feeding attempt after accidentally poking its tongue on one of these horns, dropping the startled squamate back onto the cool sand. Not wanting to return home to its newly-hatched chick without food, it picks off a few pill bugs who were, until a moment ago, minding their business beneath a rotting plant. 

Kiwis don't always lose this fight; a smarter individual might've realized it could batter the poor lizard against a rock until it didn't pose a threat anymore. This one, though, is a young and inexperienced, and it won't figure out this trick for a while yet. The gecko licks its wounds, curls up in a little hole in the ground, and restlessly scans for any further danger. Over the next few days, it continues its journey, drinking from every hydro-stalk it passes. It soon establishes a new home territory higher on the mountain. Here, with luck, it will never have to encounter such a predator again.