At the Mercy of the Rain and Weather

We crept down the dark backroad, flashlights waving over the slick pavement.  Mist pooled where the road’s winding surface bowed and dipped before arching back up like the spine of some strange sea serpent.  It was unseasonably warm for a late January night—approaching 45 degrees Fahrenheit.  The rain was a light drizzle, a fact that worried me much more than the eery isolation we found ourselves in.  It was remarkably early in the year to be looking for herps, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity.  After checking the forecast for the umpteenth time, I convinced my friend Amanda Szinte to come along on my herping escapade.  As the night wore on, we found little in the way of our amphibious quarry; perhaps it was just too early.  As we got in my car to drive the short distance back to Athens, something in my headlights caught my attention.  A Jefferson salamander (Ambystoma jeffersonianum) was wriggling off the road.

I used to think that December through February was the herping off season—at least for Ohio.  Three months to catch up on editing photos, to daydream of long past adventures, and to make plans for the next field season.  While freezing temperatures and layers of snow are sure to make the stubborn herper quite cold and disappointed, winter still offers a glimmer of potential if you know where to look. 

A young spotted salamander.

During the winter months, many dormant salamanders are poised for a burst of action.  One rainy night that peaks above 40 degrees Fahrenheit will likely convince at least a few individuals to venture above ground.  Mole salamanders (the ambystomids) are one group that can be surface active even when conditions are well below optimal.  These large, chunky salamanders spend most of their lives entrenched in mammal burrows and other subterranean hideaways.  Ambystomids are famous for their large migrations to temporary breeding pools on cold, stormy nights in late winter and early spring; the kind of nights that would make more sensible people curl up by the fireplace with a good book.  For salamanders and salamander seekers alike, these are the nights we have anticipated all year. 

It can a bit counterintuitive heading out into the dark, cold, and pouring rain, but these are the conditions salamanders require for their journey.  A good rule of thumb for most amphibians: wetter is better.  They move under the cover of night, protected from desiccation by the rain.  As ectotherms, salamanders conform to the temperature of their environment.  They require a specific range in order to become active, not too hot and not too cold (as summer heats up, salamanders become harder and harder to find).  After weeks trapped below snow and ice, a 40 degree day must feel like a trip to Daytona beach.  

A steady rain on a warm evening gets my blood pumping—tonight could be the night.  Often referred to as “the big one” by salamander seekers, just one or two nights out of the year can facilitate the movement of hundreds of amphibians.  To see one of these mass migrations requires luck and constant attention to the weather.  Misjudge the forecast and you’ll miss it.  I admit, I have never seen one of these large scale movements.  Over the years, I have enjoyed my fair share of salamander migrations and seen healthy numbers moving to and from the breeding pools.  Last year, for reasons unknown, the large migrations never came.  No one I have talked to—researchers and hobbyists alike—had the numbers that are usually expected with the rains.  Perhaps this year will be different. 

A few weeks after Amanda and I discovered that one lone Jefferson salamander, I had another good night at the same spot in early February.  I road cruised eight salamanders in total—two spotteds and six Jeffs.  I would expect these common species of Ambystomids to start migrating by the month's end, but even this is relatively early.  The warm, rainy weather seems to have affected their internal clock, making them move before it’s time.  An early spring freeze isn't normally deadly to the adult salamanders that have emerged, just a temporary setback.  Any attempted early breeding, however, could end in failure. Eggs can't handle freezing temperatures for very long.

The breeding habits of these ephemeral salamanders are fleeting.  Male Jefferson Salamanders are usually the first to arrive at the vernal pools in early to mid April.  Jeffs are lanky by mole salamander standards, with elongate bodies and long limbs.  Dark eyes bulge from their curious, rounded faces and their grayish skin is covered in light blue flecking.  By the time the Jeffs are returning to the forest, spotted salamanders (Ambystoma maculatum) have begun their immigration to the pools. Spotteds are slightly larger and more rotund.  True to their name, these salamanders are blotched with well defined yellow polkadots. Within a few weeks, both species will have returned to their underground haunts.  A handful may emerge again during fall rains, but they won't be seen in any numbers until the following spring.  

The amphibian migrations wouldn't be complete without two species of frogs.  Hundreds of spring peepers (Pseudacris crucifer) serenade the night with their deafening calls.  A chorus of their ascending peeps and wheeps can become painfully loud near breeding pools. Such a powerful voice should belong to a massive frog, but in reality, these treefrogs grow scarcely larger than a quarter.  Peepers are easily identified by the distinct X-shaped marking across their back.  Wood frogs (Lithobates sylvaticus) have a more unique call, something between a quack and a bleat.  These medium-sized frogs are the rich color of red autumn leaves.  They are some of the earliest breeding frogs in Ohio and are even capable of freezing solid in winter without any ill effects.

With this charming and boisterous cast of characters, the still woodland pools of runoff and rainwater are quickly transformed into a slurry of amorous activity.  Back country roads and empty woodlots all across Ohio briefly host this late winter spectacle.  At the mercy of the rain and weather, amphibians trek routes that generations before them have traveled.  Eyes wide, we watch from above as these single-minded creatures wriggle their way across the road and into our imaginations. For those of us that check the radar with flashlight in hand, don't forget a raincoat and a friend.  There is nothing quite like your first salamander migration.