Field Notes: You Are What You Study

A gray day darkens as the hands of the clock march along. The intermittent drizzles are becoming steady and ever louder. I pace back and forth between frequent stops to look out the window, and my anticipation grows in parallel with the strength of the downpour. It’s nearly time to go. When the last light of the sun blinks out, I leave my comfortable, well-lit, warm and dry home. Once outside, the warmth saps away from my extremities, my face stings from the cold, and the rain finds every point of weakness in my ‘waterproof’ clothing. The drive is long and visibility is poor. I turn down ever smaller roads and the lights of human habitation become farther and farther between.

Stepping out, my flashlight illuminates dripping trees and casts reflections off the dark puddles on the pavement and in the mud. I walk slowly and methodically until I sight the movement I’ve been waiting for. I have not been the only animal restlessly stirring at the sound of the rain on this night. All around me, small earthen burrows inconspicuously dot the landscape and their secretive tenants are in the process of emergence. In the duff of oak leaves beside the road, a beautiful creature sits in bewilderment under the shine of my light. Its body is no longer than my first finger and its coloration is a striking smattering of gold over a black background. In awe, I am equally still, and for a moment take in the honor it is to be in the presence of this small but magnificent beast. It is the endangered Santa Cruz Long-toed Salamander (Ambystoma macrodactylum croceum), an animal that only exists in a couple of small wetlands below the foot of the Santa Cruz Mountains. I have seen this species before, but the initial abnormal heart palpitation upon spotting one still rocks my senses. Once I gather my wits, I take some photographs in an effort to eternalize this moment and then leave the animal otherwise unmolested. As much as I’d like to spend all night gawking at this salamander, it has things to do and I have more to encounter.

As I resume my stroll, the calls of hundreds of Pacific Chorus Frogs (Pseudacris regilla) entering the wetland buffet my eardrums. Every now and then, one of these amorous frogs eagerly hops across the path in front of me. I scan with my light along a dirt embankment and before long, another salamander appears in the beam. This one is gray with sparse flecks of yellow, and its strong fingers grip expertly on the slope. Arboreal Salamanders (Aneides lugubris) can be highly territorial and the scars on this one’s body paint a picture of its rough and tumble existence. This place is positively teaming with the sounds and activities of amphibian life, and harkens back to a time where this exuberance was more widespread. For brief and blissful moments, you can forget that you rode in a car over paved roads to get here. You glimpse into the pursuits and struggles that have unfolded as every day happenings for these animals, and their ancestors, and their ancestors’ ancestors, and so on. It is the very stuff of evolution by natural selection occurring right before you, dancing on your retinas.

The sight of another salamander springs my mind back to focus on the present. The animal dutifully trudges across the rain-soaked terrain on its way to the promise of water. He is going there, like most of the local amphibians, to breed. The muddy brown coloration of his back comes in stark contrast to the brilliant orange of his underside. That bright color signifies this creature’s line of defence. Indeed, the Rough-skinned Newt (Taricha granulosa) is formidably poisonous [1]. However, I am in no danger. This salamander is completely harmless to humans so long as we don’t eat them. I admire the animal’s golden eyes and textured skin as it makes its way across the path. Rough-skinned Newts always appear as though they have goosebumps.

The next salamander I encounter has the same color pattern of brown on top and orange below. This fools many people into thinking it is the same as the newt I have just described. More importantly, it fools potential predators into thinking the same thing. The smooth skin and a point of constriction at the base of the tail betrays the animal’s true identity as a Yellow-eyed Ensatina (Ensatina eschscholtzii xanthoptica). Although this species is known to be distasteful, it does not harbor the same deadly toxin of the newt. This salamander’s mimicry is enhanced by gold pigmentation in its eyes. We know this is not pure coincidence because Ensatina populations that don’t live alongside especially toxic newts have very different coloration and lack the yellow eyes that give this subspecies its name [2]. As I marvel at this damp little being and take photos, yet another salamander seemingly materializes before me. I initially missed this worm-like amphibian as, to the non-scrutinizing eye, its brown, elongated body appears just as another twig in the leaf litter. Tiny arms and legs propel the Gabilan Mountains Slender Salamander (Batrachoseps gavilanensis) over the soil under which it usually resides. Like all of the others, the rain has called this creature to the surface.

Contentedly basking in the success of this cathartic night, I begin my own march back to the car. But I am stopped in my tracks. Crossing the path in front of me, glowing under the rays of my flashlight, is a gorgeous California Tiger Salamander (Ambystoma californiense). This imperiled amphibian is the largest of any species I have seen tonight. Perhaps more than 20 centimeters from tip of nose to tip of tail, its yellow-blotched black body glistens in the light. It is the perfect parting salutation.

Every time the winter storms come and the clouds spill their excess over the land, I am driven to stir, just as the salamanders and frogs in their burrows. Admittedly, our motivations are quite different, but spending time with them has altered my brain in ways that most might not understand. Biologists become attuned to their study organisms in a deeply intimate way. Their seasonal and daily patterns periodically dictate those of our own lives. Those who study songbirds are up long before most of us, attending the dawn chorus. Those who study wildflowers spend long spring days in the soil, under the rays of the sun. When the amphibians emerge on those special rainy nights, I feel a deep-seated urge to follow suit. You are what you study.

If I have been successful in my aim, you may now have sparks of interest for amphibians and their ways. Perhaps you want to immerse your senses in the type of night I outlined above. After all, clothes can be washed and dried, and memories can last a lifetime. I hope that you are feeling excited by these oft-ignored animals. However, it cannot be ignored that they are on a steady path of decline. One of the leading causes is the pathogenic amphibian chytrid fungus, Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Bd), that causes a terrible and lethal infection in many species. For this reason, it is of the utmost importance for you to sanitize things like your hiking boots between visiting natural areas and prevent the spread of fungal spores. Perhaps the simplest way of doing this is by spraying them thoroughly with 70% alcohol or a dilute bleach solution (5-10%) and letting it sit for 5+ minutes, followed by a rinse of water. If you are interested in additional instructions or considerations, don’t hesitate to contact me through email (brandonrkong@gmail.com) or my Instagram profile (@biologybrandon).

Brandon R. Kong is a PhD student in the Fischer Lab and the Animal Behavior Graduate Group at UC Davis. He worked on salamander natural history and conservation genetics as an undergraduate at UC Santa Cruz, and on reptile physiology during his MS at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. Now, he is beginning to explore the evolution of parental care in amphibians.

[Edited by Cassidy Cooper]

References:

[1] Brodie, E. D. (1968). Investigations on the Skin Toxin of the Adult Rough-Skinned Newt, Taricha granulosa. Copeia, 1968(2), 307–313. https://doi.org/10.2307/1441757

[2] Kuchta, S. R., Krakauer, A. H., & Sinervo, B. (2008). Why Does the Yellow-eyed Ensatina Have Yellow Eyes? Batesian Mimicry of Pacific Newts (Genus Taricha) by the Salamander Ensatina eschscholtzii xanthoptica. Evolution, 62(4), 984–990. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1558-5646.2008.00338.x