Convergence '20: Early Moves

When I started "Convergence" in 2017, it was only about the gathering of predator species brought about by the river herring run. But, in time, it became more than that. It became a series about the magic of spring in southern New England, and each and every migration the warming weather brings. Striped bass, shad, herring, birds, eels, suckers, sea lamprey, and even amphibians.... Convergence has become a love letter to my favorite time of year and some of the spectacles, migrations, breeding collections, and feeding events perpetrated by a bunch of truly special native species. Truth is, there is no place in the world I'd rather be from April 1st through June 1st than right here at home. 

But the spectacle often begins earlier than that. And this year it is beginning as early as I've ever seen it. On the 25th of February, I set out into dark, rainy, foggy conditions to document some of the first movements of frogs and salamanders on their annual migration to breeding pools. I'd not expected a chance to go herping before leaving for Florida on the 28th, but I watched the forecast carefully a week before and it looked like things could be conducive for an extremely early warm, rainy night. By the afternoon of the very day, I became confident I'd end up documenting the first migration of the year that night.
 I was barely out the door when I found the first salamander of the new decade. It was a red-backed salamander, the first species of salamander I ever found and probably the species I've seen the most of over the years, but that I was looking at one in February wasn't unexciting.

Plethodon cinereus

It was then a little while before I found another amphibian that wasn't DOR (dead on road), the species I most expected to out so early in the year: wood frogs. Wood frogs are famously cold-tolerant, and I've even seen them making calls along the edges of melting ice sheets in vernal pools. They are handsome little frogs with quite a lot of variation in color and pattern from one individual to the next. 

Lithobates sylvaticus

I rode a couple miles with only some sporadic wood frogs, then almost decided to turn around. I changed my mind at the last second and decided to continue, but in a direction I'd not initially planned on. This ended up being the best decision I've made in a long time. I went down one hill, found a few wood frogs, up the next, where I found another red-backed salamander, then crossed the highway into amphibian mass-migration on the back roads on the other side. Unfortunately, DOR wood frogs and spring peepers were numerous. In places, I could actually smell the vehicular carnage. I talked on the phone with Ian Devlin, who'd had exactly the same idea and was also out cruising for amphibians in a different part of the state, and he was finding the same thing. He descried the smell as much like that of a largemouth bass. I don't dislike the smell of a bass, but when that smell is coming from piles of dead wood frogs it is sickening. Please, I beg of you, if you can avoid driving on dark, rainy, warm nights in late winter trough early summer, do so. There are only a handful of human problems worth killing hundreds of frogs for. 

The melancholy mood soon shattered though, when I saw in my headlamp been a familiar shape. I brought my bike to a screeching halt and turned around to look back up the hill. My beam fell upon the defiantly marching figure of an adult spotted salamander that knew exactly where it was going. I let out an involuntary yell of excitement and joy.

I don't care if I sound like a fool to some people. I absolutely adore these animals, seeing them is one of the things that makes life worth living. 

Ambystoma maculatum

Had I gotten there minutes later, I'd likely have found this salamander dead, because just after I got there and picked it up, a car came flying down the hill at well over the speed limit. I shouldn't have to tell you that going 20mph over the speed limit on a back road on a rainy, foggy night isn't only dangerous to any animals that may be crossing that road. It blows my mind seeing how reckless people are.

I continued on, and finally found some spring peepers that weren't pancakes or smoothies.

Pseudacris crucifer

From there the diversity of species grew. One of the most notable finds was an eastern newt in between its land-dwelling eft stage and adult aquatic stage. This was the first I'd found this species on land, on the go in the middle of metamorphosis.

Notophthalmus viridescens

One of the best looking wood frogs I've ever seen.

The last amphibian I photographed, though not the last I found, was a four toed salamander. I'm sure I'd come across these in the past but this was the first I've found since I began taking herping more seriously. I found it's irregular golden coloration very beautiful, and I can't wait to photograph a four toed under better conditions (the camera battery was dying, so I was much too rushed).

Hemidactylium scutatum

With spring amphibian migration already underway in late February, I have no doubt I'll be missing quite a few migration nights here. But that will almost certainly be made up for in a big way. Eastern diamond backs? Pygmy rattlesnakes? Scarlet kingsnakes? Who knows!

Until next time,

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

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