The Columbus Dispatch

24-hour search for amphibians yields 18 species

- Nature Jim Mccormac

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog…

— William Shakespear­e

On March 30, along with friends John Howard and Kelly Capuzzi, I embarked on what many might consider an odd quest: finding as many amphibian species as possible in 24 hours.

I couldn’t have had better partners. Capuzzi is an aquatic biologist, energetic afield, with intense curiosity about natural history. Howard lives in Adams County and is a walking encycloped­ia of flora and fauna. I have mentioned him in numerous columns.

A day passes quickly and we had to focus on the most amphibian-rich region of the state. This was a no-brainer: Adams County, with forays into adjacent Brown and Scioto counties.

Thirty-seven species of frogs, toads and salamander­s have been recorded in Ohio. It would be impossible to find them all in a day, due to geographic separation. But our region allowed the possibilit­y of locating 32 species.

We convened at Howard’s house, and

at 11 a.m. set out on what would be a whirlwind 24 hours of amphibian searching.

Our first stop was an isolated hollow in Adams County where we turned up northern dusky and slimy salamander­s. The latter is well-named. Its skin exudes Super Glue-like secretions to deter predators. Wood frog eggs in a small pool added to the list.

Working remote Adams County haunts produced America toads and pools with singing mountain chorus frogs. Howard knew a vernal pool that yielded Jefferson and spotted salamander egg masses, along with tough-tofind four-toed salamander­s. Red-spotted newts added to the mix.

Dredging through the mire of a Scioto County spring yielded a couple of red salamander­s and our first green frog. Salamander-seeking in particular is slow, hard work that requires looking under numerous logs and rocks.

We returned to Howard’s house around 9 p.m., and drummed up some marbled salamander­s in his pond. Following a well-deserved meal, we took a brief nap and headed back out at 1 a.m.

While the day’s weather had been mostly sunny and in the 70s, what we really hoped for rolled in that night: rain. Warm, wet nights in spring really get the amphibians moving as they seek mates or migrate to breeding sites.

Cruising backwoods lanes in Scioto County offered up scads of amphibians, including hundreds of America toads, pickerel frogs, spring peepers, our first bullfrog, and many others. We moved plenty off the roads. Roaming amphibians are frequently flattened by vehicles.

About 4 a.m., we decided to head to a large marsh in Brown County. That was a good decision as we netted northern leopard frog and western chorus frog.

At 11 a.m., our 24 hours were up. The last amphibian found was a red eft — the larval form of the red-spotted newt — pictured with this column. We had spent 21 hours afield and found 18 species. Nineteen, if we counted a ravine salamander that Howard had found a few days prior and temporaril­y detained.

We plan on doing this next spring and think with minor tweaks we will eclipse 20 species.

Naturalist Jim Mccormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccorma­c.blogspot.com.

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 ?? JIM MCCORMAC ?? A red eft clambers over downy rattlesnak­e-plantain orchid leaves.
JIM MCCORMAC A red eft clambers over downy rattlesnak­e-plantain orchid leaves.

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