The secret life of salamanders

By: Louise Loik / Contributor

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It was 11 p.m. on a moonless night. With spring in the air, the chorus of Northern red-legged frogs calling from a nearby pond was intermittent but loud. I was accompanying a researcher who was documenting the location, quantity and variety of frog calls all over Bowen. We drove slowly, stopping frequently so that she could get out of the car and disappear off in the direction of the calls. I always enjoyed these evening forays around the island. For many of us, there’s something mesmerizing about a frog chorus. We notice the sounds of the frogs, and we see the frogs, but what you may not realize, is that frogs are not the only amphibians that share this island home. Nearby are quiet cousins.

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With the data collection done for the night, I turned the car back down the dead-end street and crept the car along at a walking pace for any last minute research. 

As slow as I’d been going, my sharp-eyed passenger stopped me within a tail length of an almost translucent little creature on the road. We jumped out of the car. While there is protocol regarding the handling of amphibians so as not to spread disease to them, this one was at risk of being run over. It walked gently onto my hand, a perfect match in size between my hand and its full body length.  We marvelled at the delicate Oregon ensatina salamander.

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Unlike the nearby frogs, this amphibian was not a semi-aquatic species, but a forest-dweller who, like so many creatures that hide in our forests, is rarely seen. They vanish from sight under decaying leaves, bark and fallen trees; venturing out only after the bright daylight has slipped away. 

It’s the dampness of the forest floor and decaying plants that allows the lungless ensatina to absorb oxygen through its skin. The damper and rainier, the more likely it is to come out on the surface without risk of its skin drying or freezing. The more extreme the heat or cold, the deeper these soft-skinned animals dig into the depths of the soft forest floor for protection. 

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Finding an ensatina on the road was a surprise. They prefer cover, and are sensitive to disturbances, like the knocking over of their log, or the raking up of leaves that provide protection. They will venture out from debris, mostly in the evening to munch on a variety of insects and tend not to travel far.

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Adapted to dark conditions, their eyes are bulgy and big, while their bark-coloured skin helps them go undetected against leaves and twigs. This one was almost undetected because of the darkness. The animal now looked around at the situation and reached out with long toes and long legs, intending to be on its way. 

Seemingly unthreatened, it wasn’t excreting poison, which comes from parotid glands behind its head or from an the area on its tail.  Nor was it arching its tail, trying to look threatening to any perceived threat. The tail in this salamander is distinctive, with a constriction at the base of the tail. Another survival strategy to distract predators is to drop the tail. It’s a desperate measure as the tail holds fat reserves to get the salamander through the winter. If the tail drops in the fall, the loss of the fat stores is more harmful but the tail will regrow. 

for the full story : 

https://www.bowenislandundercurrent.com/opinion/meet-your-shy-bowen-neighbour-the-ensatina-salamander-3802281