2. Mexican Burrowing Toad – Rhinophrynus dorsalis

When you think of South Texas herping, your mind inevitably wanders to a suite of range-restricted species better associated with tropical influences of Mexico rather than the temperate US. The Mexican Burrowing Toad is one of these animals and it is also one of the most difficult amphibians to see in Texas. There are a couple of big problems when it comes to observing this animal: 

• They are limited to only two South Texas counties along the Rio Grande.
• They remain inactive and buried belowground throughout much of the year.
• The habitat is nearly inaccessible and protected behind ranch gates, barbed wire fences, and no trespassing signs.

When you are working on a Big Year, you’re regularly forced to solve something like an algebraic equation with variables like RTS (remaining target species), EN (the effort necessary to get into proper habitat), SW (season/weather), and PD (probability of detection). One evening in May, while already working in South Texas, the equation finally worked out in my favor. It was spring, a big rain had come, and I could catch up on sleep later – it was “go time.”

Gilbert is a friend of mine that studies rare South Texas frogs as part of his Master’s project at the University of Texas-San Antonio. Gilbert has some survey sites sprinkled within Starr County and graciously provided me with some coaching on where I might listen and look for target frogs. At the first stop, I was immediately listening to a wonderful chorus that included Sheep Frog and White-lipped Frogs, among others – both big South Texas specialty species I was hoping for. However, just as wonderful and incredibly serendipitous, was my first in-person meeting with a fellow naturalist, Andrew Austin. 

At the time, Andrew – @thetexasnaturlist – was wrapping up his college work at Texas A&M. I’d gotten to know him and shared a few notes with Andrew through social media over the years. I knew Andrew as a thirsty naturalist that seemed to ramble the state as much I do, maybe more – and that is impressive! That night, roadside beside a smalltown church, Andrew and I linked up for an adventure that would not end until nearly 4:00 in the morning. We caravanned around the countryside, stopping to listen intently from roadside points, and we heard a handful of Mexican Burrowing Toads calling across the inaccessible rangelands and thorn scrub. However, hearing and seeing are two different things, and I knew that we would commit the EN (effort necessary) to hold one of these animals in our hands. 

That night, I learned that the call of these frogs could carry a surprisingly long way. At one point, we thought we were just a few hundred yards away from a pair of calling frogs. After a few repetitions of driving, pulling over, and re-triangulating – we realized that the calling frogs were almost a mile away, but after getting perilously close to tapping out, Andrew was able to secure a roadside frog for us. There were congratulatory hugs and high fives, lots of photographs, and a shared memory I’ll long remember. 

Andrew and I have become closer friends since this chance encounter. I admire the heck out of him, and I’m grateful we were able to connect several times during my big year effort. As I mentioned above, Andrew is a thinking naturalist and thirsty for knowledge and experience – these character traits create strong kinship within our community. 

1. Western Pygmy Rattlesnake – Sistrurus miliarius

This is one of the animals I’ve most coveted seeing in Texas – an uncommon, secretive, and almost diminutive rattlesnake. These little rattlesnakes are spotty across their Texas range outside of a couple of strongholds. I have herping friends that have searched in habitat for years and have not been able to turn one up. The attraction of this animal (for me, at least) has something to do with its beautiful patterning, small size, and the challenge in finding them – all of which decidedly make the Pygmy Rattlesnake an East Texas “grail” species. 

A few years ago, Erin and I started working with the National Park Service to conduct bird surveys at Big Thicket National Preserve. These surveys prompted us to get to know a new and unique region of the state. The survey protocols also afforded plenty of time to explore the woods and make day trips (and night trips) naturalizing after the morning bird surveys concluded. Like the birds and birding, the herps and herping introduced me to the distinctively different assemblages of wildlife from my regular haunts of West Texas, the Hill Country, and the Rio Grande Valley. Eventually, the work became too much for just Erin and me to handle, and I began including my best friend, brother, and fellow naturalist, Lee Kothmann, on these surveys. 

Together and over the years, the three of us have made wonderful landowner connections, seen a lot of the quiet corners of the Preserve, and marveled at what all the Big Thicket offers. We’ve also left gallons of sweat and an alarming amount of blood out there. These shared experiences – glory and pain – among friends only deepen the connection and affirms the durable bond.

Like the Reticulated Gecko I described previously, we would make regular forrays out road-cruising at night. On a couple of occasions, we would make a trek up to the National Forest land north of our study sites in hopes of observing some new herp species for my big year – especially Timber Rattlesnake. We had enjoyed hiking this forest habitat on a few occasions during the day – it is beautiful habitat – but we’d never had much luck finding snakes. That all changed at dusk in mid-June. 

An amazing sequence of events began with me saying, “We’ll never find the Pygmy Rattlesnake that we don’t get out and look for.” I had just flipped on the LED light bar on my truck. It was that weird time of transition when it was getting dark and difficult to see, but the remaining ambient light drowned out the effect of the light bar. Complaining about this in my head, I almost didn’t notice the slender snake stretched out on the margin of the forest road. However, I saw the snake and recognition set at the same moment that I stepped out of my truck to investigate. I was completely overwhelmed. The Barred Owls were first silenced and then answered my excited yells and “WOOO!!!”s. Erin knew immediately by my response. The three of us sat staring at that animal in complete wonder. I don’t know that I could have asked for a more perfect introduction to this animal than to be in a special place, doing special work, with my wife and best friend, whom I love so much. Above all, this is the moment, the observation, and the animal that will always bring a smile to my face and that I will point out at the most meaningful experience during my herping Texas big year.

Bonus – Panhandle Herping during an Active Monsoon Season!

2021 was a great year for the Texas Panhandle. I made a brief run up there to see and hear lekking Lesser Prairie-Chickens during early spring. The conditions were incredibly dry, and I didn’t see much herp activity outside Plains Leopard Frog (#55). Fast forward a few months, and the region had been completely transformed by summer monsoons and the accompanying rain. It looked like a once-in-a-decade year of rain, and I couldn’t miss it.

That is where another one of my best friends comes in. Greg was probably my biggest cheerleader and supporter during this big year effort outside of my wife, Erin. He regularly checked in for status updates, brainstormed new spots and species to target, and even joined me on a couple of memorable trips. One of these trips was a July hotshot (one full day of herping) to the southern Panhandle or High Plains ecoregion, where we hoped to see a handful of specialty herps – especially amphibians. 

Greg and I have a lot of fun, dumb, and fantastic stories that begin the same way this trip started – with a full tank of gas, plenty of coffee, and two dudes who want to see some wildlife. Almost all of these trips have high hopes of herping bliss – a lot have met that expectation, others not so much – but it is almost always the mundane tasks, like feeding ourselves, that become most memorable. Like when I warmed up cold brew coffee in a cast-iron skillet that the night before had been used for cooking hot dogs – without cleaning. That experience provided interesting flavor profiles to accompany our needed morning caffeine dose. (In my defense, I didn’t realize that cold-brewed coffee was meant to be consumed cold!). On this trip, I was cooking hot dogs over a propane stove. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that sentence until I mention that I had forgotten my pan and cooking utensils and had to settle on slowly turning the hotdogs over the direct flame, rotisserie-style, with my bare hands while sitting cross-legged in the back of a Kroger’s parking lot. The worst part was when Greg questioned how sanitary my process was, considering I had been holding various frogs and lizards throughout the day. We had no problem scarfing down three hotdogs each. 

This trip was made excellent by the expert guidance that another great friend, Drew Harvey, provided us. Drew picked us up from the Kroger’s parking lot and put us on just about every species on the hit list that evening, including Prairie Rattlesnake (#129), Woodhouse’s Toad (#131), Western Tiger Salamander (#132), and ended a very late night with Plains Spadefoot (#133). 

I don’t think you can say enough good things about friends that support your interests and hobbies. I recognize that some of these folks are our friends because of our shared interests, but their character and quality make these friendships deep and meaningful. My herping big year effort spotlighted this concept: my closest friends and family are composed of people of incredible quality and have only made me better and more enriched, whatever the pursuit. Thank you all.

The post Conclusion: My 5 Favorite Herping Finds of 2021 appeared first on Modern Texas Naturalist.

So, I thought I’d kick some post-Big Year blogging off with a Top 5 List.

This one will focus on My 5 Favorite Observations from #HerpTX21. This is a list that will emphasize the experience more so than the animals themselves. Let’s be real though, any of these critters would qualify to be included on a top 5 herps list and it just so happens that every one of them was a species I’d never seen before.

So, without further adieu, here we go with #5 through #3!

5. San Marcos Salamander – Eurycea nana

Central Texas supports an abundance of brook salamanders (Eurycea). Almost all of these species are limited to distinct subsets of springs and the groundwater systems (aquifers) that supply them. Although I spent nearly a decade living in San Marcos while pursuing my undergraduate and graduate degrees, I never once struck out to see our namesake endangered salamander. It took more than 15 years and this herping big year to finally correct my shortcoming. 

The best part about this particular pursuit was that I was joined by my then 17-year-old son, Christian. Although he was too young to remember well, this is the river where Christian learned to swim. I can recall those days vividly – how we would admire the softshell turtles and night herons while passing leisure time swimming at Sewell Park. And here we were again, years later, about to jump into its crystal clear waters.

Fortunately, this late-December day was relatively warm (low 70s) when we mustered the courage to jump in. We waded upstream a little way before employing a snorkel and goggles to search for salamanders. I searched for about 20 minutes becoming increasingly discouraged before finally spotting a salamander. I was able to show Christian by letting this individual crawl into my cupped hands and then briefly bringing it above the surface. Christian smiled and congratulated me while making sure to grab a photo to mark the occasion. 

This ended up being the final species I would add during my herping big year. I don’t think I could have scripted a better conclusion. To find this animal in this place with my son was meaningful. In more ways than even I appreciate, during those formative years, Christian helped me find the motivation I needed to get serious with school and discover the path that led me to where I am today. Thank you, son.

4. Reticulated Gecko – Coleonyx reticulatus

Reticulated Gecko is the larger, much rarer cousin to the common and more widely distributed Texas Banded Gecko (Coleonyx brevis). Reticulated geckos are extremely range-restricted in Texas and occur exclusively in the southern mountains of Brewster and Presidio Counties. This species is a field herping “grail species” of the Big Bend Region and one I’ve long wanted to see. 

During the Fall of 2021, Erin and I were invited to join our friends with Fin and Fur Films for a week of herp-focused cinematography in the Big Bend Region. We recruited one of my best friends and fellow naturalist, Lee Kothmann, to the project. Each morning, the three of us would either assist the cinematographers with filming or go scouting for additional subjects in the surrounding mountains, desert, and grasslands. The days were long but that did not deter us from burning the candle at both ends. Each evening we would come together for some late-night road-cruising and road-cut shining where geckos linger. 

It wasn’t until several of these long nights had passed – when the excitement had been replaced by indifference and enthusiasm by exhaustion – that I realized that Erin and Lee were there to support me and this big year effort as much as they were hoping to see rare geckos. They didn’t huff or push back when I’d stubbornly declare at 1:00 in the morning “Let’s check one more cut before calling it.” As I reflect on those nights, I understand it was hard on them. Supporting my manic pursuits only made our film project responsibilities more tiresome and difficult. I was asking for a selfish compromise and they lovingly obliged. Moments like these help me put things in perspective – the love and support of friends and family are sustaining gifts we shouldn’t take for granted. 

Their support ultimately paid off as another murky twilight closed upon us. We were at the last possible spot on the last possible night of this week-long effort. We three sleep-deprived herping zombies were finally rewarded when I rolled over a road-side boulder at the foot of a cut and discovered a juvenile Reticulated Gecko. My patented “WOOO!!!” shattered the silence. Erin and Lee bolted over, Lee making sure I hadn’t hurt myself before realization set in and, we all enjoyed a few reenergized moments admiring this secretive grail species.

3. East Texas Salamanders – Ambystoma sp. 

I’m going to lump a handful of related species here – Spotted (A. maculatum), Marbled (A. opacum), and Mole Salamanders (A. talpoideum). It is just too difficult to pick out a favorite and the circumstances around seeing them are completely intertwined. 

All of these animals are restricted to the Piney Woods of East Texas – a region I’ve only recently become acquainted with. Besides their inherent beauty and charisma (well, maybe Mole Salamanders are more charming than beautiful), my fascination stems from their interesting natural history and limited range within Texas. These salamanders can be extremely tough to find. Your best shot is during breeding season – generally, fall to early spring – when heavy rains queue a frenzy of breeding activity. As wet season wetlands fill, dozens sometimes hundreds of salamanders will emerge from underground burrows and migrate across the forest floor in an effort to propagate the next generation. 

Erin and I made our first trip in pursuit of these salamanders around the second week of January. Strong rains preceded us by just a couple of days but each intervening day decreased the likelihood of seeing salamanders. Luckily for us, we were meeting up with Matt Buckingham who knew just where we might find some lingering salamanders. 

I’d been following Matt’s blog – Naturalist’s Journey – and Instagram account for a few years and had long hoped for a chance to ramble the Piney Woods with him. This trip ended up being the ticket and, especially fortunate for us, Matt brought his wife and lucky charm, Caro, which effectively guaranteed our success. I don’t know if it was the handful of salamanders we found, the shared enthusiasm for all things nature, or their deep understanding of natural history but it felt like reconnecting with old friends rather than our first time meeting. Matt ended up being a great thought partner, motivator, and resource throughout my big year effort and I’m exceedingly grateful for his and Caro’s friendship.  

Needless to say, the trip was wildly successful. Erin and I saw just about everything we had hoped to see. In addition to introducing us to both the subtle and dramatic beauty of the Piney Woods, Matt also helped me get more familiar with my camera equipment. I think Matt’s openness and encouragement helped in other ways too – particularly in leaning on the community of field herpers and researchers, showing humility and appreciation to those from whom I hope to learn, and sharing joy in moments of discovery. This trip was easily one of the most memorable and meaningful during a year brimming full of them.

That’s enough reading for now but if you’re eager for more, I’ll be posting the exciting conclusion to My 5 Favorite Herping Finds of 2021 soon and will update this blog with a link as soon as it’s ready!

The post My 5 Favorite Herping Finds of 2021 appeared first on Modern Texas Naturalist.

– RLS, 8 Jan 2021

#herptx21 Status: 6 speciesTarget Species: Spotted, Marbled, Mole, and Dusky Salamander, Gulf Coast Waterdog, Pickerel Frog

Erin and I are camping at the Indian Mounds Campground just east of Hemphill. This portion of the Sabine National Forest is bound by the western shore of Toledo Bend Reservoir. Somewhere towards the center of the lake is the state line. Everything beyond is Louisiana. The campground is serving as our weekend headquarters as we continue our search for a handful of salamanders unique to this part of Texas. Part 1 available here.

We continue to benefit from the local knowledge of Matt, Caro, and Adam who are also camping. And, today, we’ll be adding depth to the team as Scott Wahlberg, another strong naturalist and herper, joins us.

But First, A Quick Admission

Last night, our group came together around the glow and radiance of a shared campfire. Warm, fed, and imbibed on good beer, we strike off on rambling conversation hitting many welcomed topics of natural history, conservation, East Texas ecology, and loose goal-setting for the next day. After so many months of limited in-person engagement, my content is high. I am energized and excited and hopeful – all at once. Sadly, the late of the night is apparent despite the ease of conversation.  We all know what we hate to admit – it is time for sleep.  

Saturday Morning

At least I thought it was time for sleep. My journal entry says it all – I suffer through cold and ache. As much my fault as any because I stubbornly refuse to get off my cot and fetch my down bag – another data point survived while placating foolish notions of rugged hardiness. Mornings like these require coffee and some movement. Fortunately, we have packed generous reserves of Chameleon Cold Brew (not just good coffee, but excellently strong coffee) and I’m moved to motion by the conversations of many interesting birds. 

Matt and I agreed on a rough plan last night. We’ll spend today targeting more East Texas salamanders and we’ll gain Scott en route to our first spot. Scott is obviously less intimidated by the cold than Erin and me – showing up in swimming trunks and flip-flops. Dude is just unphased – an attitude I’ll adopt… eventually.

Our first stop is at the edge of the forest. We park the caravan near a gated two-track road and then hike a half-mile or so into beautiful long-leaf pine parkland. More for Erin and me, Matt reminds the group to keep eyes and ears out for Red-cockaded Woodpecker (RCWO) – an endangered species that rely on healthy long-leaf pine savannah and the fire management that is necessary to maintain it. We don’t definitively make out any RCWO but share some excitement over a suspect woodpecker in the distance.Our destination in these woods is a small woodland pond. We are looking for Mole Salamanders and Pickeral Frogs. The process requires someone (Scott) to get into the water and shuffle around with a sturdy dipnet – which he does admirably and with knowing technique. Despite the effort and the presence of at least a few salamander egg masses – we all come up empty-handed. Yes, even Erin and I make awkward little attempts with our dinky little folding net from the shallows of the pond margins. No problem though, we adjust and transition – expanding our search radium and exploring a bit more on the hike out. Adam discovers a gorgeous juvenile Five-lined Skink (Plestiodon fasciatus – Big Year Species #7) that proves incredibly photogenic and cooperative.

Back at the trailhead, the group takes a nice lunch break – sharing stories while enjoying the squeaky dog toy song of Brown-headed Nuthatches overhead. Our next stop on the day’s itinerary will introduce Erin and me to a beautiful and dramatic habitat type that is at once familiar and foreign – East Texas spring head ravines. 

Spring-fed Ravines

We strike out on a narrow forest trail and it isn’t long before Scott says “This is it.” while surveying a relatively deep sloping woodland cut by a series of spring-fed streams. If I squint my eyes I can almost get the sense I’m looking over the mesic sloped woodlands of my own Hill Country haunts where Western Slimy Salamander (Plethodon albagula) abound. But the similarity ends there. The trees, soil, and smells are completely different and the critter we’re looking our for is the Spotted Dusky Salamander. I’m not confident in where exactly I should look. So, I project what I do know and get to flipping logs and branches.

Almost immediately Matt finds the first target salamander. It’s such a neat little critter that is so closely tied to specific niche wetland habitats and soil types in East Texas – habitats that are both limited and threatened by factors like land use, groundwater use, and climate change. At first glance, this salamander appears unremarkable and muted but closer inspection reveals contrast, pattern, and color. Individuals are variable but some will show an impressive stripe of autumn red coloration along the back half and tail. 

I spend well over an hour searching along the various drainages of this site. I’m unable to turn up any salamanders despite searching along great-looking spring runs. But – Scott is helping me refine my search image and radius which is as important to me as actually finding a salamander (thank you, Scott). Despite it all, we have success as a group. In addition to Matt’s salamander Adam discovers an additional three or so (that dude is turning out to be a complete hoss and good luck charm). I transition to photographing salamanders and grab a few decent images as a baseline to improve upon.

With decent daylight remaining, we continue hiking down the trail eventually ambling upon a seepy slope with some scattered downed wood. With a better-developed search image, I see a very attractive piece of wood that almost calls out to me. Scott and I turn it over and find two more Dusky Salamanders and the day ends on the sweetest of high notes – a handful of one of Texas’ most cryptic and range-restricted terrestrial salamanders. 

Part 3 of the Salamander Saga coming soon.

The post Secretive Salamanders of East Texas (Part 2) appeared first on Modern Texas Naturalist.

The Golden-cheeked’s scientific name, Setophaga chrysoparia, translates to golden cheek moth eater; moth eater describing the genus which now includes most New World warblers. This federally endangered songbird is an attractive member of the wood-warbler family (Parulidae) and is a Texas breeding endemic – meaning every individual is a native Texan. Golden-cheeked Warblers are overwhelmingly reliant upon that special Hill Country habitat association of mature juniper-hardwood forests, typically with high levels of canopy cover, a diverse deciduous component, and occurring along moderate to steep slopes.

Habitat

Prime GCWA habitat is attractive and diverse and represents some of my favorite wooded parts of the Hill Country. These prime woodland habitats are often densely canopied and old-growth, occurring with an abundance of large attractive individual juniper, the kind of trees that are easy to appreciate as important natives instead of the noxious shrubs we regularly battle. The best GCWA habitat will hint at creeks and springs along the moist shaded slopes of valleys and ravines. These healthy forests are characterized by veins of rich dark soil high in organic material alternating with exposed limestone ridges and fractures.

Before his death in 1963, Harry C. Oberholser* painted a bleak picture for the future of Golden-cheeked Warblers “[the golden-cheek] and its cedar brakes are unlikely to reach the twenty-first century alive, but then, who is?”.

Conservation Challenges

During the 20th Century, the species suffered as large areas of woodland were cleared throughout central Texas. The primary intent of this conversion was to increase the area of grassy forage for livestock. This practice sorely misjudged the importance of the woodland structure in stabilizing erodible soils and often undermined the overarching goal of clearing.

Additionally, a terrible toll was taken on the reproductive success of GCWA when populations of Brown-headed Cowbirds (BHCO) began to increase. This increase was largely due to BHCO’s affinity for large grazing herbivores. When relatively sedentary cattle replaced large free-ranging herds of bison – the cowbird flocks, too, stop roaming. Female BHCOs are brood parasites – meaning that they utilize the nests of other breeding birds to help raise their young. They are adept at locating nests and, after doing so, will remove one or more eggs (or chicks) and deposit eggs of their own. After hatching, the cowbird chick(s) grows quickly and usually dominates the surrogate parent’s attention and feeding; all of this to the detriment of the biological chicks.

Progressive fragmentation of landscapes increasingly contributes to the dynamic challenges faced by wildlife managers and policy-makers. Texas A&M Natural Resource Institute has documented that the average Hill Country landholding is decreasing in acreage as more large ranches are reduced to inheritances, large tract subdivisions, and hobby ranches. Smaller farms and ranches don’t necessarily present an insurmountable conservation challenge but the resultant mixed management of these smaller parcels, often variable and without coordinated conservation intent, can create substantial management challenges on a landscape or regional scale. This is particularly true in regards to the management of remnant old-growth and mature juniper woodlands which necessitate a combination of education, appreciation, and coordination in landscape-scale planning.

Today, many populations of GCWA throughout the Hill Country appear stable but others are continually challenged by the development of rural lands. Habitat loss, fragmentation, and degradation are generally considered to be the greatest acute challenges to the recovery of GCWA while climate change and limitations in gene-flow are more chronic challenges.

Protections

The Endangered Species Act and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act currently provide federal protections for the species – which largely serve as a backstop to more voluntary forms of conservation and recovery. Texas Parks and Wildlife Department provides complimentary state-based protections through our own protected species list – which mostly drive limited conservation funding and resources to interested landowners. However, these protections can’t alone assure the recovery of the species in a state that is 95+% privately owned and staunchly opposed to governmental overreach. The responsibility of protection and recovery ultimately falls on the landowner who stewards the habitat these birds rely on to survive and reproduce. Society’s most meaningful role is to incentivize that stewardship through voluntary tools, resources, and research while continuing to express our appreciation and wonder for a species so uniquely Texan (did I mention that this is the ONLY species of bird that breeds exclusively in Texas?).

Closing Thoughts

Each landowner will have their own motivations and goals in ownership of land – that’s inherent in private property rights. In Texas, we respect those rights. But we also recognize and hold in highest regard those landowners that shoulder the burden of land ownership with due consideration of stewardship responsibilities. Wildlife is a public trust resource – at once owned by everyone and no one. Land and habitat are overwhelmingly owned and managed by the individual, family, or partnership. Assuring that the needs of wildlife and the needs of the landowner are compatible remains the biggest challenge to the viability of all Texas wildlife and especially our little iconic songbird, the Golden-cheeked Warbler.

*Harry C. Oberholser is the author of The Birds of Texas published posthumously in 1974 and representative of a lifetime of work occurring over the first half of the 20th century.

The post Golden-cheeked Warbler is Back! appeared first on Modern Texas Naturalist.

#herptx21 Status: 3 species

Target Species: Spotted, Marbled, Mole, and Dusky Salamander, Gulf Coast Waterdog, Pickerel Frog

Despite our eagerness, Erin and I got a late launch from Austin. We’re aiming east for Sabine National Forest where we’ll spend the next couple of days seeking out a collection of salamanders that are unique to East Texas. We’re arriving about a week after winter rains queued the breeding season for several species. The peak of breeding activity has likely passed (at least for now) but we’re hopeful there will be plenty of individuals lingering after the breeding frenzy.

I say that these salamanders are unique to East Texas in that several only teeter into East Texas as part of a much wider continental distribution (see an example for Marbled Salamander below). They are secretive in that they are notoriously difficult to find outside of the breeding season. To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about these animals. I hope to change that. That’s part of the joy in exploring and searching – it’s an opportunity for hands-on learning that more deeply engages the mind’s neurons and synapses (yeah, boo boo… it’s science). And, fortunately, this particular trip will be made all the better by the expertise of Matt Buckingham.

Connecting with Fellow Naturalists

We met Matt, Caro (Matt’s wife), and Adam Black (@adamblackplantnerd) in Lufkin. Matt and I have known each other for a while – mostly from social media – but have never met in person. His blog and photography are inspirational and informative and Matt is among the brightest and most talented naturalists I can think of. I sought out Matt for help kicking off my year-long passion project to find and document as much of Texas’ reptile and amphibian diversity – which I’m calling the 2021 Herps of Texas Big Year or #herptx21. Graciously, Matt answered the call!

After connecting in Lufkin, Matt led our caravan of naturalists east. Half an hour later we were parking at a forest road turn off. Opposite us stands a pool of water – an ephemeral wetland on the edge of the forest. I’m eager to get started. Essentially any salamander we find is going to be a first for Erin and me. Walking along the edge of the wetland, Matt points out various egg masses and explains some of the discrete differences that aid in assigning parentage. Large amorphous eggs clustered loosely are likely Mole Salamander whereas clear tight masses look good for Spotted. Interestingly, female Marbled Salamanders make terrestrial nests under logs or leaf litter and will often guard their eggs.

We Found Salamanders

We all begin flipping logs and fallen branches in search of adult salamanders. I’m not sure what exactly to look for in a good salamander log but key in on what I intuit is an especially nice stump (affirmed by a knowing nod from Matt) just a few feet from the water’s edge. That small stump turns up the first of many derpy four-legged beauties — my first Spotted Salamander (Ambystoma maculatum – Big Year Species #4). These things are remarkable. Seeing one in person exceeds my expectations. They are, simply put, beautiful. 

Only moments later Matt and Caro turn up several more salamanders including three Spotted Salamanders under one log. This collection provides a small sampling of variability in size, shape, and boldness of these wonderful animals. We continue to search this site and another within walking distance turning up a couple of Marbled Salamanders (A. maculatum – Big Year Species #5) in the process – another lifer for Erin and me. This critter is fairly robust but shorter overall than the Spotted. Look, I know that I literally just professed the beauty of the Spotted Salamander – and it is, no doubt – but, my gosh, this one’s a vision of subtle splendor. That silver-gray banding is difficult to over-appreciate.

Altogether we turned up somewhere around 10 salamanders representing three species at these two sites:

• Spotted Salamander
• Marbled Salamander
• Western Dwarf Salamander (Eurycea paludicola – #6).

The post Secretive Salamanders of East Texas (Part 1) appeared first on Modern Texas Naturalist.