They're watching

Yesterday was an absolutely delightful early spring day. Almost summery, really, with temperatures hitting 75 degrees in the southernmost reaches of Ohio. And that's where I went, hopping in the car at Oh-dark-30 and making the two hour drive to Adams and Scioto counties. These two counties harbor some of the greatest botanical diversity to be found north of the Ohio River, and with the unnaturally balmy weather of late, plants have been in eruption mode.

I spent about nine hours in the field, and located scores of wildflowers, including some of our rarest species. My camera's clicker was busy recording nearly 1,000 images, some of which were keepers. I'll share some of those later.

It seems that most of my field work anymore is in the company of others, which I greatly enjoy. I learn a lot from being with people who know more than I do, and getting another's perspective is always enriching. But I still love solo days, such as yesterday. Without any sort of distraction, I find my senses are heightened and I tend to notice lots of things that I might otherwise miss. When I'm by myself, I tend to move very quietly and the easing through the forest without making sound tends to allow one to better sneak up on the wildlife.

Spot the mammal. It's right there, dead center, staring bullets at the camera. As always, you can click the photo to enlarge it and better see detail.

While working a steep slope photographing the endangered goldenstar lily, Erythronium rostratum, I noticed a furtive movement out of the corner of my eye. Scanning the scene, I saw this bright-eyed eastern chipmunk, Tamias striatus, still as stone and peering though a forking branch from behind a rock.

Mammals such as chipmunks and squirrels habituate well to suburbia, and become backyard extroverts. They adapt to the presence of people, and most of their natural predators are absent from the yardscape. In much wilder landscapes, such animals are often not nearly so confiding.

At one point, while picking my way along a razorback ridge carpeted in oak and hickory, I noticed the blur of some large critter vanishing into the leaf litter. It was just a fleeting glimpse, and whatever it was was large enough that I wondered if it might be one of the smaller species of shrew.

It wasn't. Carefully lifting the leaf that I though the animal vanished under revealed a telltale burrow about as big around as your thumb. It's right there, blending well with last year's litter of leaves, square in the center of the photo. Its occupant is right at the entrance, too.

The flashing blur that I had seen turned out to be one of the giant burrow-dwelling species of wolf spider, perhaps one in the genus Hogna. As I peered into the depths of the burrow, I saw her legs slowly move into sight as she crept back to the entrance. A slight twitch by your narrator sent her scrambling back to the depths.

So, I did what any decent spider enthusiast would do - I prostrated myself on the forest floor, camera at the ready, and hoped she might come out. Still and patient as I was - I lay in the leaves for a good twenty minutes - she would only come as far as the burrow's entrance, as seen in the photo. Any slight camera-adjusting move by me sent her instantly down the tube. I really wanted a good look, and decent photos, in order to learn her identity.

Senor Wolf Spider would not be intimidated by smaller potential victims passing by her burrow. It's probably good that insects don't thought-process in the way we do. One can only imagine the horror that would register, albeit briefly, in the unfortunate bug's mind that bumbled into the vicinity of the spider's lair. In an incomprehensible blast of speed, the spider would rocket from the burrow, seize its victim, and bite it. Venom injected via a pair of impressive fangs would quickly incapacitate the prey, which would then be tugged underground where its soft innards would be sucked dry.

Giant Black Water Beetle

A co-worker recently brought in this enormous beetle, understandably curious as to its identity. I knew right away it was one of the "predaceous diving beetles", as I have been seeing them of late in some of the vernal pools while seeking salamanders.

She had found the beetle in a parking lot - no water nearby - which isn't too surprising. These beetles, water-loving as they may be, fly well and are often attracted to well lit places at night.

After a bit of shuffling through some literature, I was able to pin down the ID as Hydrophilus triangularis, the so-called giant black water beetle (at least I think it is; let me know if I am mistaken). I suspect that the specific epithet triangularis stems from the almost perfectly triangular plate on the beetle's carapace, shown above.

It's hard NOT to notice one of these things - they are about an inch and a half long! Beetles in the family Hydrophilidae are called water scavenger beetles, and can easily be confused with a similar family, the Dysticidae, the predacious water beetles.

Even though this species and others of its ilk are termed scavenger beetles, many are predatory.

If you've ever noticed these large beetles in the water, you'll quickly see what good swimmers they are. A beetle in the drink will occasionally surface and trap a small air bubble under its body, then descend into the depths hunting for food. The water scavenger beetles differ from the predacious diving beetles in their method of surfacing. They pop to the surface head first, while predacious diving beetles surface tail first. Another easy way to tell the two groups apart in the water, at least if it is a larger species, is their method of leg locomotion. The scavengers row their legs alternately, while the predacious beetles row them in tandem.

One feature that is apparent with the beetle in hand is the incredibly waxy smoothness of the carapace, or upper shell. It's like a freshly waxed surfboard, and such slickness undoubtedly greatly reduces drag while swimming.

These feathery brushlike projections on the oar legs are conspicuous with the animal in hand, and are presumably yet another adaption for helping the animal propel itself through the H2o.

This long spine, running lengthwise down the center of the ventral surface of the beetle, is an intimidating feature. It suggests a large hypodermic syringe.

A closer look at the spine. It'd be cool if the beetle used that lance to spear its prey, but it doesn't. I don't know the purpose of this feature, and could only speculate that it serves to provide structural reinforcement.

Watch for these interesting beetles if you are around the margins of ponds, vernal pools or nearly any shallow vegetated wetland.

Adult male Snowy Owl

Photo: Chuck Slusarczyk

I've been wanting to share this photo ever since Chuck Slusarczyk sent it along a few days back. It shows an adult male Snowy Owl, Bubo scandiacus. Chuck snapped this shot at Cleveland Hopkins Airport on March 10th, and it is the second owl seen there (the other was a heavily black-barred immature bird).

Virtually all of the Snowy Owls that make it as far south as Ohio are young birds, which are prominently marked with black, as SEEN HERE. The adult males are quite striking; it's as if they have been carved from a block of ivory.

Thanks to Chuck for sharing this photo. I've been fortunate to be able to feature some of Chuck's other work before, such as his amazing Blizzard of Gulls photos. If you would like to see more of Chuck's photos, CLICK HERE.

Pink salamanders. I'm not kidding.

 Photo: Brian Parsons

Just when you think you've seen it all, along comes an email from Brian Parsons, reporting pink salamanders. Not only that, he's got the photos to back up this outrageous claim.

Brian is Director of Planning and Special Projects at the Holden Arboretum in northeast Ohio. He is a botanist, but is keenly interested in everything in the natural world, and for years has been monitoring a strange population of spotted salamanders, Ambystoma maculatum, on the Holden grounds.

QUICK PLUG: If you haven't visited Holden Arboretum and its 3,600 acres, add it to your bucket list. Not only does Holden contain a wealth of interesting ornamental plantings, its grounds also conserve some of the best natural areas in the northeastern corner of Ohio. Many rare plants occur naturally, and its varied habitats support a spectacular diversity of birds, including many unusual breeding species. The place is a state and national treasure.

This is my photo, of a pair of normally pigmented spotted salamanders, just like the one that graces the brand new Ohio Wildlife Legacy Stamp. Cool as they may be, Brian's pinkamanders make these boys look mundane.

 Photo: Brian Parsons

This shot shows one of the pink salamanders in a pool along with a normally pigmented individual. The contrast is jarring. Brian reports that this population of pink individuals has long been present at Holden, and their numbers are on the increase. Last night was the main push of spotted salamanders into the Holden breeding pools, including these bizarre pinksters.

Photo: Brian Parsons

Apparently these amphibians are erythrochroic; they possess the same genetic anomaly that causes the pinkness in the pink grasshopper of my last post, and Pinky the katydid. I don't know how common erythrism is in the amphibian world, but I've never seen it until Brian shared these amazing photos.

A bit of research reveals a smattering of documentation about erythristic salamanders, most notably the so-called "red morph" of the widespread red-backed salamander, Plethodon cinereus, such as THIS PAPER.

If anyone can shed any insight on these animals, or knows of other "pink" salamander populations, please share. And thanks to Brian for sharing the story of these decidedly odd amphibians.

Pink grasshopper!

 Photo: Kristen Lauer

One nevers knows what one might find upon checking their email, and to my delight, yesterday it was this astonishing beast. Kristen Lauer, who lives in Dayton, wandered into her backyard prairie patch the other day and was stopped in her tracks by an animated jot of neon pink. Fortunately, she was able to capture the animal, take it inside and obtain some photos.

Kristen works as the Education/Information Specialist at the Montgomery Soil & Water Conservation District (friend her on Facebook RIGHT HERE!), and had attended the inaugural Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton in 2009. That year, Cheryl Harner brought the original Pinky the pink katydid to the conference, and was displaying the extraordinary creature in a terrarium. Kristen had seen the odd chartreuse katydid there, and knew upon spotting this grasshopper that she had made a noteworthy find.

 Photo: Kristen Lauer

This animal is a newly emerged nymph - note the tiny wing "buds". If all goes well for the grasshopper, it will eventually molt into an adult with fully developed wings, and it'll be interesting to see if it retains its veneer of shocking pink.

 Photo: Kristen Lauer

I do not know grasshoppers very well, especially when they are in their nymph stages, and even more especially when they are an unnatural shade of day-glo pink. That said, I wonder if this "pinky" is one of the species in the genus Melanoplus, which includes our very common and widespread differential grasshopper, M. differentialis. I think that at least some of these species, which overwinter as eggs, hatch very early in the year and nymphs can be found by now.

Photo: Kristen Lauer

For a brief description of what causes pinkness in animals - a condition known as erythrism - CLICK HERE. Erythrochroic animals seem especially well represented in the Orthoptera, which includes katydids and grasshoppers.

Kristen is keeping the pink katydid, and it is living large in vegetated quarters free of any of the myriad enemies that can do in a critter like this. It'll be interesting to see how its growth progresses. I'll keep you posted if there are any updates, and thanks to Kristen for sharing her find!

Another "Pinky" comes to light

A rare pink form of a katydid in the genus Amblycorypha made the news in a big way back in 2009. It was discovered by Jan Kennedy at Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, and you can read my posts about "Pinky" HERE, HERE, and HERE.

Well, another pink insect has come to light, and it is nearly as outrageous as the original Pinky. Tune in tomorrow - I'll share the photos then.

Tiger salamanders, Take II

An eastern tiger salamander, Ambystoma tigrinum, our largest and burliest salamander (in Ohio). This photo was taken alongside a breeding pool in Logan County, Ohio, last night.

If you wish to seek mole salamanders - the Ambystomids - it is necessary to remain flexible. One must await the magical ingredients of fairly warm weather, coupled with rain, in early spring. And then head out at night, when these strange subterranean creatures emerge from the ground and march overland to favored breeding pools. This means one cannot plan these forays well in advance - you have to go on the salamanders' schedule and they don't give much notice.

I though last night might be a good night for seeking tiger salamanders. Constant rains drenched the central Ohio landscape throughout the day yesterday, and the temperature rose to a salamander-friendly 55 degrees. I shot home after work, took care of some things, and was headed towards tiger country west of Columbus around 6:30 pm. The rain had ceased by then, and to my dismay the temperature plummeted to 42 degrees before I was 15 minutes into my travels. No good for mass migrations, but I figured I would check a breeding pool or two and see if any tiger salamanders had yet made their way to the breeding grounds.

Yes! As expected given the weather, I saw no salamanders crossing the roads, which had mostly dried out by the time I reached Logan County, but I was rewarded with the sight of several dozen salamanders swimming in a pool. The guy above was photographed through the water - he is about two feet under the surface. Tiger salamanders are outstanding swimmers, and it was a treat to watch several dozen of the giant amphibians gracefully floating about, or rocketing around like torpedoes. These animals have large paddlelike feet and a laterally compressed tail similar to a muskrat's, and they use these adaptations to swim with the greatest of ease.

Tiger salamanders might suggest spotted salamanders, Ambystoma maculatum, at first glance, but they differ in several ways. One, the tigers are comparatively much more massive - a bit like comparing a Great Black-backed Gull to a Ring-billed Gull. The head is big and broad, and enormous in comparison to the rest of the animal's body. The spotting on a tiger is more messy - unlike the clean rows of bright yellow dots on a spotted salamander - and tiger spots are a dull mustard-yellow. I saw several individuals last night that were nearly unmarked and mostly blackish.

I apologize for the less than stellar quality of my images. There was no time to round up anyone else to go along, and trying to carefully handle the animals - always keep your hands wet! - and juggle the camera and a flashlight at the same time gets to be a bit much. Shooting at night requires careful manipulation of the camera's flashes, something that I couldn't adequately deal with last night. Thus, it was necessary to really jack up the brightness and contrast post-processing.

One of the burly bruisers poses on the pond's margin. I find the life cycle of these amphibians to be exceedingly interesting, and shrouded in mystery. Tiger salamanders emerge from the ground for only a few days, and their goal is to trek to breeding pools to court, lay eggs, and reproduce themselves. After this important task is complete, the tigers leave the pools, and once again disappear from our world. They spend nearly all their days under the ground, probably moving through mole tunnels, crayfish burrows, or other subterranean nooks and crannies. Very little is known of them and their other mole salamander kin; studying such beasts in the wild, other than at the breeding pools, is nearly impossible.

The animal in the photo above was a big one, maybe eight or nine inches in length. Tiger salamanders can get bigger than that; supposedly indivduals up to 14 inches have been found. They are the amphibious counterparts to box turtles in the longevity department, too, and can probably live for a few decades if all goes well.

Here's the distribution of the eastern tiger salamander, map courtesy the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. Ohio represents the eastern edge of the interior populations, and much of this distribution mirrors the formerly great midwestern prairie ecosystem. It does seem that Ohio's best populations of tiger salamanders occur in former prairie areas, and many breeding sites such as I visited last night are in very open habitats, not the forested vernal pools that one often associates with Ambystomid salamanders. Tiger salamanders also range down the Mississippi Valley and then along sandy Gulf and Atlantic coastal plains. This U-shaped distribution pattern is shared by a number of other aquatic animals, and a great many species of wetland plants.

I don't think the major run of tiger salamanders has yet occurred. I saw no spermatophores - male sperm packets - in the pond, nor any eggs. Right now, the forecast for Monday calls for rain, and temperatures in the upper 50's. If that prediction pans out, I'll be back in west-central Ohio hunting tigers.