Awakening Amphibians
The distinctive moist smell of early spring beckoned me outside to enjoy a quick mid-afternoon cup of coffee. Okay, the brief break turned into an hour, maybe two!
I could not resist sitting on the flat sun-warmed rocks ringing my large water garden, watching the remaining chunks of ice float around. Clumps of submerged vegetation stirred as subtle movement from the muddy bottom rippled the placid water.
Within minutes, a male green frog slowly surfaced, blinking at the sudden brightness. His large bulging eyes had to adjust after months in the frigid darkness below the ice. Finally, life above water can now resume for this sleek amphibian.
In the Northeast, March’s strong sunlight quickly melts snow, leaving patchy areas in the woods, exposing insulating piles of leaves, and rotting logs on the forest floor. A lone spring peeper called from the hillside above the pond, as if cheering the arrival of the thawing weather. I smiled, thinking his vocal cords will need some tuning before he makes his way to the open water before me, focused on courting female peepers.
Early spring rains on the first warm evening will bring a cacophony of sleigh bell sounds to my backyard pond as male spring peepers arrive from hibernating spots under the leaf litter in the woods surrounding my home.
These thumb-nail sized amphibians have a special anti-freeze like adaptation, enabling them to survive almost freezing internal temperatures to be ready for mating as soon as the ice starts to thaw.
Males inflate a balloon-like vocal sac to claim territory and serenade arriving female peepers. Dozens of arriving songsters can create an almost deafening chorus. As soon as egg masses are laid in the floating vegetation, these tiny creatures venture back into the woods.
Spring awakening is underway. I will be ready with my raincoat and flashlight to scout around my pond on that first warm rainy evening, looking for the arrival of the spotted salamanders. These beautiful amphibians, with yellow spots uniquely patterning their 7-9 inch long black bodies, make their brief appearance from underground forest tunnels during these rainy nights as they head to ancestral ponds and vernal pools to mate.
Gathering groups of males and females, called a congress, perform elaborate underwater mating dances over several days until eggs are laid, fertilized, and attached to submerged vegetation.
The return journey back to the woodland tunnels begins and these elegant creatures then remain hidden until the following spring.
Slow-moving salamanders, like most of our amphibians, are particularly vulnerable on wet roadways as they cross to and from breeding pools and ponds.
Many communities have fantastic opportunities for people to volunteer with Salamander Crossing Brigades to lend a hand during these peak movement times. The first time I volunteered to cross amphibians on a designated “hot spot” roadway was simply magical, gently picking up large, wet, prehistoric looking spotted salamanders and moving them to safety, making a difference in this species’ survival.
Finishing my now chilled coffee, I reluctantly head back inside, returning to work feeling joyful and optimistic, thinking of the next few weeks with the awakening amphibians ready to begin their journeys to my backyard wetland. The pond is officially “Open” for the season!