A few random things from recent days, including a beautiful grass

 

A Spring Peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) strikes a pose on a wingstem leaf. Last night was hot, humid, with some showers and lots of the little frogs were out and about. This was at a recently acquired Arc of Appalachia property in Holmes County, Ohio, along Killbuck Creek. Our crew found lots of interesting creatures during our nocturnal foray. The peepers were especially notable, and we saw many. August 8, 2024.

As always, click the image to enlarge

The desiccated corpse of a Long-jawed Orbweaver spider in the genus Tetragnathus is enveloped by a fungal killer, Gibellula pulchra, a fungus that preys on spiders. When a spore lands on a suitable arachnid, the fungus begins to envelope the victim, penetrating it with mycelia that consume its inner tissues. As a last hurrah, the fungus sends out rather showy elongated hyphae that produce spores, thus starting the cycle anew. Shauna Weyrauch spotted this grisly scene on an epic nocturnal foray at a new Arc of Appalachia acquisition. Holmes County, Ohio, August 8, 2024.

A portion of the flowering spike of Side-oats Grama (Bouteloua curtipendula). The orange appendages are the grass's anthers, which contain the pollen. The white feathery objects are the stigmas, which are the pollen receptacles. Rather than evolve fancy flowers to lure insect or other animal pollinators, grasses go for the simpler carpet-bombing strategy. These plants release thousands upon thousands of tiny windborne pollen grains in the hope that some land on the stigmas of other plants and thus cross-pollinate them. The multisyllabic scientific name is a mellifluous delight: Boo-teh-loo-ah ker-tih-pen-do-la. This Side-oats Grama is in my front yard in Worthington, Ohio.

Brown Marmorated Stink Bug (Halyomorpha halys) eggs with freshly emerged nymphs. This pest hails from Asia and was first collected in 1998 in Pennsylvania. Since then, it has spread to nearly if not every state. The first Ohio record dates to 2007 and now they're everywhere around here. One female can apparently lay up to 400 eggs, so the one that dumped these isn't done yet, or she already laid many other eggs. I must admit, there is an artistic symmetry to the bugs/eggs at this stage. My backyard in Worthington, Ohio.

Spring Peeper

A tiny Spring Peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) belts out his incredibly loud song. He was in a pool filled with countless other peepers, and the collective din was ear-splitting, almost painful at times. This was in a vernal pool in southern Logan County, Ohio, last Friday night (March 31, 2023).

In this photo, we see the reason for the singing - to attract females, which this one has. How she keeps from going deaf with the little blowhard singing right in her ear I do not know. One of life's little mysteries, I suppose.

Salamander (mega) migration!

In this part of the world, amphibian enthusiasts pay close attention to the weather at this time of year. Towards the end of the day, yesterday, it was apparent that Wednesday night would produce the warm rainy conditions that are conducive to salamander migration.

The annual run of the salamanders trumps all, so I and a photographer friend met up at 8 pm and headed to one of central Ohio's best vernal pools. Smart move - it was a river of salamanders.

Upon arrival to our destination, there was a light drizzle and the temperature was 60 F. Perfect, and it didn't take much exploring to see that moisture-loving critters were moving en masse. This is a crayfish, rearing up among the leaf litter and threatening me with its pincers. I often see crayfish moving overland in such conditions.

Amphibians were the primary quarry and we weren't disappointed. Upon exiting the car, chorusing spring peepers could be heard, along with lesser numbers of western chorus frogs. These tiny frogs with their toe-capped suction cups were all over the place. This is a chorus frog, blending well with the bark of an oak.

The spring peepers blew any and all other noise-makers out of the water. As we neared the vernal pool, the noise grew in intensity. Standing along the verge of the pond was nearly painful, so loud and shrill is the collective mass of singing frogs. A barred owl had been calling fairly close by - and you know how loud those can be. The peepers completely drowned out the owl. I never fail to be amazed by the sheer volume of these Lilliputian frogs.

The spotted salamanders stole the show, though. We hit the BIG NIGHT, that's for sure. They were everywhere. Moving (carefully!) towards the vernal pool, salamanders would appear out of nowhere, moving through the leaf litter in an age-old spring ritual. A relentless drive propels the amphibians towards their breeding ponds, where male and female will meet and lay eggs. The adults won't remain long, but the larval salamanders will spend weeks growing and maturing in the pools.

A gravid female moves across a turkey-tail fungus-encrusted log. Many pregnant females were moving to the pools, which were filled with writhing and dancing male salamanders. The boys had already deposited scores of spermatophores in the water, ready to fertilize the females' eggs as they arrive.

Peering into the water was incredible. At times, 30 or 40 salamanders were evident in a tiny area, and everywhere one looked there were more. Extrapolating to the size of the vernal breeding pools, I figured there might be five or ten thousand of the animals, but who knows. Anyway, you shake it, last night was a major salamander-fest, and I'm glad that I was there to witness the spectacle.

The amphibians arise!

A spotted salamander, Ambystoma maculatum, threads it way through a wet leafy forest floor. It, and many others of its kind, were on the march last Thursday evening. I always make time to go nocturnal with the first warm spring nights, and catch the eruption of amphibians - especially salamanders - as they rise and venture to breeding pools.

This is a smallmouth salamander, Ambystoma texanum, and it too was headed to a massive vernal pool complex. This animal and the preceding (and some of the upcoming) were found and photographed in Crawford County. Thanks to Josh Dyer with the Crawford County Park District for meeting up with Susan Nash and I, and sharing this place. If you get the opportunity to go to one of Josh's outings or programs, do it. CLICK HERE for information.

A spotted salamander rears up like a mini dragon, the better to see what kind of threat your narrator may pose. I am no threat, but cars certainly are. This one was crossing a roadway, and many don't make it across. On Wednesday night, I along with Cheryl Erwin visited one of my favorite sites, a wet woods in Logan County bisected by a rarely traveled country road. Big vernal pools bookend the roadway, and salamanders and other amphibians cross in droves. Even though few vehicles use the road, those that do pass by during migrations cause carnage. I was delighted to hear from LeeAnn Leslie Shively Swonguer that the township trustees recently closed the road temporarily during a big amphibian migration. That is awesome, and major kudos to LeeAnn as I suspect she had a lot to do with that. Many moist skins were saved that night.

The red eft larval stage of a red-spotted newt, Notophthalmus viridescens, crosses the roadway. An eft lives a terrestrial life for several years before entering the water of a pond or wetland, and living the remainder of its life as the adult newt. This particular road always has efts crossing it in early spring along with many other amphibians. I suspect they are making their final overland treks, and preparing to enter the water and transform into the adult stage.

A green frog, Lithobates clamitans, floats in several feet of cold water. I can tell you it was cold because I was standing in it.This particular pool was jamming with amphibians, and I quickly saw there would be photo opportunities here. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to throw my chest waders in the car, and only had knee boots. The water was far deeper than that. Oh well, if the frogs can stand it so can I, and in I went. Frogs are often FAR more approachable at night than they would be during daytime, and this one allowed me to get as close as I wanted.

Lots of frogs and some toads were crossing roads last Thursday night, taking advantage of the wet night to move to breeding sites. Included in their ranks was this gorgeous northern leopard frog, Lithobates pipiens. During the day, leopard frogs typically bound off in a series of enormous leaps, and can be rather difficult to approach closely. Not so at night. We lifted the girl off the road and placed her on a convenient stump for photographs, and to get her off the road. NOTE: If you must handle amphibians, make sure your hands are thoroughly wet so as to avoid damaging their skin. In general, it's best to not touch them, in my opinion, unless of course you are required to move them to safety.

I mentioned the frog is a "girl". You can tell the sexes apart by the size of the tympanum, or "ear" - that round spot directly behind the eye. In males, it is noticeably larger than the eye, and about the same size or slightly smaller in females.

The pools were alive with the sound of music - frog music. This is a western chorus frog, Pseudacris triseriata, singing away. Lots of them were rasping away just about anywhere there was a wetland. I recently wrote about this species in more detail HERE.

Click the video above for a brief recording of the distinctive song of a chorus frog, shot at close range in Josh's Crawford County vernal pool.

A tiny spring peeper, Pseudacris crucifer, glares at your narrator, who rather impolitely intruded on the frog's wetland.

Here's what a spring peeper in full puff looks like. I worked hard for this shot, I don't mind telling you. This was in the (cold!) wetland (with plenty of robust leeches!) that I waded around in for about one-half hour. My primary quest was to obtain good shots of singing peepers. Normally, in order to make such shots you have to enter the water, or at least your probability of encountering singers rises significantly if you do. Sure enough, I found about eight singing frogs, but all of them shut up as soon as I got within range. Finally, I spotted this guy over on the bank and he cooperated. Turns out I wouldn't have had to even go in the water to get the shot! Oh well, being one with the frogs is part of truly experiencing life in a frog-filled vernal pool.

I made this audio recording while standing waist deep in water, surrounded by numerous singing spring peepers. If you've never done this, you owe it to yourself. The din created by these tiny blowhards is mind-boggling. When in very close proximity, their calls actually hurt one's ears.

Get out and enjoy the peepers and other amphibians while you can. A person only has so many springs to experience, and you should not let even one of them slip by without listening to the music of the frogs.

Frogs are nearly upon us

Come spring, and a boy's thoughts turn to frogs. At least mine do. Here in Ohio, we're still locked in winter's last gasps. It snowed a fair bit yesterday, and temperatures are projected to plummet to 19 degrees tonight in Columbus. But at this time of year, it's as if Mother Nature is shaking out a huge blanket, trying to cast off those last bits of sleety snowy nastiness and clean the sheet for spring.

March becomes a roller coaster ride of meteorological ups and downs, yo-yoing between winter/spring, winter/spring. Come Monday, it's supposed to hit near 60, but then plunge to much cooler temps again for a few days.

But the froggy set doesn't need much encouragement to float to the top of pools and ponds and start to do their thing. In fact, there have already been numerous reports of Spring Peepers piping up on the few warm days we've had thus far.

Within the next week or so, the outrageously loud vocalizations of Spring Peepers will resonate from wet spots throughout much of Ohio. These tiny blowhards are incredibly, nearly unbelievably, noisy. Many is the time I have stood in the midst of an ephemeral pool fueled by spring rains with legions of peepers peeping all about. Their calls are so loud and of such pitch as to be nearly painful. Males, such as the one above in full tune, must either be deaf at certain frequencies or possess a shutoff valve that clamps over their hearing organs when in song.

A tip for observing these suction-footed little charmers. If you detect a pool full of peepers, wade on in. All the frogs will instantly shut off upon your approach, as if waved to silence by some amphibious symphony conductor's baton. Stand still and patient, and within a few minutes the peepers will begin popping to the surface all around you, and resume their singing. It's a rather magical experience and the way to experience firsthand the full brunt of their wall of sound.

A common companion of Spring Peepers is this tri-striped little beauty, the Western Chorus Frog. It is sometimes called the Striped Chorus Frog and I think that I prefer that moniker. This one was photographed on a warm rainy night in early March of last year, in Logan County, Ohio. Their song is quite easy to learn and one that I'm sure you've heard if you live in the eastern half of North America. A Western Chorus Frog sounds like someone running their fingernail down the teeth of a comb, but piped through a stack of Marshall amps. The colder it is, the slower the frog runs through its scale. Their coarse raspy trills offer an interesting musical punctuation to the high-pitched birdlike notes of the peepers.

This is it - the world's toughest frog. No amphibian ranges further north than does the Wood Frog, and I'm sure that they've already been into breeding pools at least in southern Ohio. Wood Frogs literally have "anti-freeze" pumping through their system. The frog uses urea and glucose to create so-called cryoprotectants that allow it to re-thaw itself after being frozen nearly stiff.

Wood Frogs are wonderful ambassadors for vernal pools in this part of the world. Small wooded pools that flood with early spring rains are where most of our Wood Frogs go to breed, and seeing a pack of them going ape in a small vernal pool is truly a sight. From afar, the male's collective singing sounds like the quacks of a distant flock of Mallards.

If you'd like to learn more about vernal pools and all of the fascination that they offer, the Ohio Environmental Council is offering a couple of educational workshops. DETAILS ARE HERE. The OEC also has produced a fabulous new Guide to Vernal Pools, and I'm sure they'll have it available at the workshops, or you can score it through their website.

Peeps and Rasps

It's not only the birds that are possessed of silky voices and interesting vocalizations, you know.

Anyone who is spending much time outside these warming days will have noticed other sounds - sounds from the amphibian world. If you are interested in learning about bird calls, you'll want to know about the above critter. It's a Spring Peeper, Pseudacris crucifer. These are tiny tree frogs, distinguished by that (more or less) X marks the spot on the back.

Peepers do just that - they PEEP, and at deafening decibels. Their "song" is created by the male, who inflates a sac of loose skin at the throat to herculean proportions, and lets loose. The resultant notes are rather bird-like, and if one manages to get themselves surrounded by a managerie of calling peepers, the chorus almost hurts the ears.

This time of year, Spring Peepers gravitate to wetlands to breed and lay eggs. Almost any little bathtub-sized wet spot will do, really. Here's what they sound like. I bet you recognize that!

The other loud, conspicuous frog that is calling now is the Western Chorus Frog, Pseudacris triseriata. They are abundant, and often mixed in with Spring Peepers. These miniature tree frogs sound like someone running their finger down the teeth of a comb, but boosted by a stack of Marshall amps. Or perhaps a maniacal infant feverishly cranking the handle of a wind-up toy. LISTEN!

Enjoy the amphibious symphony will you can. It doesn't last long.