By introducing the fictional Pistol Frog in my last entry on April 1, I acknowledge that I may have depleted my already small stock of reader trust. I was going to do an exposé on the secret service organization known as the S.S.C.P. (the Society to Save Clay Pigeons) but thought better of it after discovering that I knew nothing about them due to their secrecy.  I instead resorted to fabricating something of a more seasonal nature – untrue, but seasonal and semi-factual.

  There were more than a few kernels of truth in that April Fool piece, however, and I want to assure you that your eyeball time was not completely wasted.  Take the part about the real amphibians such as Chorus Frogs, Spring Peepers and Salamanders that make their annual pilgrimage to vernal ponds in order to fulfill their reproductive needs.

  Although Chorus Frogs and Peepers are tiny and hard to see, they at least broadcast their presence in the form of loud verbal announcements throughout early spring.  This is how they find each other and make little frogs. It’s not too hard for us to verify their existence during this time. 

  Salamanders, on the other hand, can – and do – slink in and out without calling any attention to themselves.  I would say that they proceed with their love life completely under the radar except that is an overused statement (and one banned by the S.S.C.P., whoever they are).  So, I will simply say that salamanders are silent, stealthy, slimy and secretive. They quietly gather at the vernal pools, lay their eggs and slink back into leaf litter for the balance of the year. They do all this without stooping to the loud lewd behavior exhibited by their jumpy fellow amphibians.

  There are many salamander species in the Great Lakes area, but here in the lowlands of S.E. Michigan we are graced with the presence of a special type of salamander known as the Smallmouth.  This elusive creature reaches its northern range limit here in this corner of the state. Because of the limited local range it is considered a state threatened species, but it can be locally abundant in lowland situations.

  The Smallmouth Salamanders are extremely early breeders that make their way to the breeding pools during the first warm rains of spring. By saying “warm” I am using a relative term, because this event often occurs when there is still snow on the ground and the pools are iced over. The 2008 annual breedfest has apparently already occurred and I have missed it -again. The last time I witnessed Smallmouth breeding activity was over 20 years ago on a “warm” rainy April night in which my fingers became numb while holding the flashlight. In the intervening years, I have been satisfied by simply spotting their egg clusters as confirmation that “they” are still around.

  Someone brought an adult specimen to me this year, so my Smallmouth fix came in a very direct form. I was delighted at the rare sight and wanted to share it with you. Here’s a picture of the “sally” in question (see here). As you can see (here), it’s a well named critter because it has a relatively small head which is endowed with a small mouth (in which the lower jaw projects slightly forward in Ally Oop fashion). They are typically 4-7 inches long with four stubby legs, a large flattened tail, and a color matching that found on those old speckled enamel pans.  In hand, you can get a sense of the beautifully mottled blue “lichen-like” spots that stand out like Van Gogh stars against a deep blue-black background (see here).

  This particular fella was injured -perhaps by a bird or fox that decided eating it was a bad idea. Poison glands in the skin, especially along the top of the tail, exude nasty secretions when the creature is handled roughly.  Feisty Smallmouths will actually arch their tail up when threatened as if to say “make my day” to potential day spoilers. Unfortunately, they always run the risk that something will roughly sample them before realizing the error of their ways.  In this case, the salamander had some small puncture wounds on the shoulder and neck.  It was probably intercepted on its journey away from the breeding area. Individuals who loose part of their tail or a foot can eventually re-grow them, but internal damage is quite another thing. I’m pulling for this guy, none-the-less.

  Somewhere out there in muckland, I trust there is a quiet little pool full of the promise of new life wrought by this creature.  These short-legged amphibians don’t wander far, so the breeding location has to be in relatively close proximity. Smallmouth eggs are attached to submerged twigs and look like seeds imbedded within a gelatinous mass (see here). Salamander eggs do not have a shell but are protectively wrapped inside clear concentric membranes.  The gelatin coating swells when it contacts water like Jell-O mix in a bowl.

  I have to admit that I don’t know if this individual is a male or a female, but suspect a feminine persuasion due to the lack of a swollen vent (please don’t ask me what that means).  If a female, it would have done the egg-laying, of course. If it is a male, then it would have performed the ritual dance.  The guys, you see, deposit their sperm packets on top of little gel pedestals (called spermatophores) all over the bottom of the pool.  Then, through a series of seductive silent dance moves, they lure the females along a route that brings them directly over one of the pedestals. Once positioned, she willingly takes in the fertile packet to fertilize the eggs. Needless to say, she dances with several males in order to spice things up.

  After a week, the larvae (see here) will emerge from the eggs to carry on these life traditions. Eventually they loose their external gills, grow a full set of walking legs, and wander off to join the secret society of the Smallmouths. Being of small mouth, they don’t easily give away their secrets either.