Orgy at the Pool

An idyllic puddle in the woods, you may be thinking, just the perfect spot for a few minutes of meditation on an balmy spring evening. Think again.

This is actually a vernal pool, a polite term for a den of orgy. The shallow water roils with hormonally-charged frogs, croaking loudly enough to be heard a quarter-mile away. Perhaps not the most conducive spot for an evening of peaceful philosophizing, but a fascinating place nonetheless that deserves a visit.



The participants in this orgy are Wood Frogs, Lithobates sylvaticus. As their name implies, these small frogs are denizens of woodlands. Indeed, they have abandoned the water except for reproduction, which is explosive; after the first warm days of the spring, the entire population descends upon traditional breeding pools, and, after a few frantic days of calling, fighting, mating, and laying eggs, returns to dry ground for the remainder of the year.



A pool filled with several hundred calling male Wood Frogs is a scene not quickly forgotten. Their guttural croaking is reminiscent of a quacking duck. To get an idea of the experience, watch this video.

The males float around on the water, croaking and fighting among themselves. Paired sacs on the sides of their necks inflate as they call, and often they lunge through the water in pursuit of other frogs as they call.



Mating is a process of trial and error. The males grab every frog they can until they find a female. If another male is grasped, the assaulted male will squeal a "release" call to inform the other male of his mistake. As you can imagine, the pond water roils with the chaos.



Eventually, however, things work out and a male and female will mate. And, since I'm sure that you're as fascinated by frog sex as I am, I can't help but dive into the gory details. Almost everyone has seen frogs or toads mating in ponds, the male clinging for dear life to the back of the female. But did you know that frog fertilization is actually external? That's right--frog mating is a form of pseudocopulation known as amplexus. The male wraps his front legs around the female's body, assisted with special nuptial pads on his thumbs. As she lays the eggs, he squirts out the sperm, and so the next generation of frogs is conceived.



Wood Frogs are fascinating creatures. They are the most widely distributed frog in North America, ranging north of the Arctic circle. Such a northerly distribution requires extraordinary adaptations, and the Wood Frog's method of surviving the winter is truly fabulous: it freezes. It produces antifreeze, composed of glucose, which supports its cells while the water crystallizes. The brain is inactive; the heart stops beating.

Birds seem so boring in comparison!

Winter Stewardship

No, it wasn't a dream! I really do have a job wandering around outside looking at birds! I worked another shift Monday morning and once again thoroughly enjoyed
myself.



The biggest surprise came early in the shift. While pishing at a flock of chickadees at the edge of the preserve, I noticed a midget of a bird, wings crackling with energy, bouncing around in the underbrush nearby. "Oh, cool, Golden-crowned Kinglet." It had been awhile since I'd seen one in the preserve. Suddenly, the bird, which I had not yet glassed, opened its bill and uttered a snappy jid-it, seemingly indignant I had mistaken him for his cousin. Yes, a Ruby-crowned--a bird worth ignoring in California, but, here in Michigan, an excellent bird for the winter.



Compared to October and November, when the skies are full of flyovers, the January skies are bleak and empty except for the resident Red-tails or geese winging over. It was a pleasant surprise, then, when this Northern Harrier cruised overhead. It was a new campus bird for me.



It was a chilly morning, temperatures lounging a few degrees above freezing. Too warm for snow, but plenty cold for frost and stiff fingers.



The preserve was a farm back in the olden days. Some of the clues to its history are subtle, like the uneven ground from the tilled fields, but others, like the skeleton of this old car, are blatant evidence of the past.



A would-be white landscape now masquerades as a different place, a place much farther to the south with scarce snow, maybe Tennessee. The dearth of snow this winter is frightening. The woods are brown and steel-gray instead of white. Here and there, however, scraps of color--lichens or rose hips--can be found.



Even if it's the "wrong" color, the preserve still an art gallery with innumerable exhibits. Some are only visible if you kneel in the leaf litter with a critical eye. Beetles may belong to the phyla Arthropoda, but their sculpture outdoes that of some human artists I have seen.

What surprises are waiting in the woods for next time?

The Preserve

After a series of boring, frustrating jobs, I've finally landed one I genuinely enjoy: preserve steward in Calvin's ecosystem preserve. My responsibilities? Walk the trails, greet visitors, clear fallen branches, pick up litter, and, oh, watch birds.



It is tempting to surmise that frigid (well, actually, it's been extraordinarily warm this winter) woods are lifeless, but three hours of roaming through them will convince you otherwise. Bird numbers and diversity were low, as would be expected, but my wanderings produced a couple goodies, including a Northern Shrike and a Great Horned Owl. I had packed only my wide-angle lens, so the shrike in this photo may or may not be identifiable.



The woods really are beautiful this time of year. I will cherish the privilege of being paid to wander through them.