All we do is search

I think it's safe to say that the 2016 field herping season has come to an end.  Last winter, I was involved in a mudpuppy study here in Chicago, and I've been told that it's going to be taken over by a new researcher this season, but so far I haven't heard anything.

2016 was a really interesting year.  At almost exactly the halfway mark on the calendar, my daughter Lumen was born, and well, babies have a way of asserting their presence and dependency.  And for the first two months or so, it was legitimately difficult.  For a borderline dromomaniac like myself, it took a lot of strength and patience to stay home and combat the near-constant screaming and crying of my colicky baby.  I knew the condition would eventually wane, but there were some late nights/early mornings, where sleep deprivation and hysteria were well and alive in this house.  Just another day, I told myself.  Just go day by day.

One morning we woke up to find Lumen quiet in her bassinet.  I feared something bad had happened.  But nope, sound asleep and calm.  Was this the turning point I was waiting for?  Soon after, she began smiling back at us and was able to support her head, which allowed her to look around inquisitively.  THAT was a milestone if I ever saw one.  It really benefited us that she was rewarding us for all the love and care we were providing.  Now, at nearly five months of age, five minutes don't pass where she doesn't look right at me and smile and giggle.  It makes a WORLD of a difference.  It makes me a proud daddy.  And most importantly, it makes me feel invincible.  If I could survive all that happened early on, I could take on anything (but Lumen, please don't challenge me!).

Since Lumen has been around, I haven't been as goal-oriented/able to commit to any comprehensive herping projects.  Just little excursions for fun mostly, which is still great.  It's a lot more acceptable for me to become distracted when I'm just outdoors and having fun.

Warning:  The following are all cell phone captures.  No glamour beyond this point.

A few shots from a September 24th expedition to the coal strip mines of Mazonia, best known for their extremely rich quantity and diversity of fossils hundreds of millions of years old (or, if you're a young earth creationist, you can convince yourself that humans were sympatric with the Tully monster and other marine life forms right here in Illinois, perhaps as little as a thousand years ago...).  Anyway.  Tom Anton enlisted my help in capturing a plains leopard frog for a then-upcoming exhibit at the nature museum.  It probably would have helped had either of us cared to bring along a net.  We saw a few plains leopards, including one beastly beauty, but despite the cool temperatures, the frogs outwitted us and disappeared into the vegetation just at the right moments.  Ironically, we ended up catching bullfrogs and green frogs, the ones we had no official use for.

 A small tributary of the Mazon River.

 A feisty eastern garter (Thamnophis sirtalis).

 This tiny northern water snake (Nerodia sipedon) was found in a roadside puddle the area of a football.  In the puddle were a few Rana larvae too big for this snake to eat.  It probably didn't stop it from trying.

 One of many gravel roads that criss-cross the area.  Today they are mostly used by outdoor sportsmen and fossil hunters.

A November 19th trip with the goal being to get some good photographs of the southern two-lined salamander (Euycea cirrigera), since I still haven't gotten any before.  When I found my first salamander, I prepped to shoot it when I realized my camera battery was dead.  Words cannot describe how frustrated one can get after driving an hour and a half for the sole purpose of getting some shots of a tiny salamander, only to be shafted.  Good thing I was with a botanist (Trevor Dean Edmonson) and a fossil/mussel mogul (Matthew Ignoffo).  They paved the way to happiness, and Trevor even brought doughnuts.

Here's a crappy cell phone shot of one of the two-lineds.

 Creek-walking and exploring.

 Some really cool geology here.

 Looks like decent mudpuppy habitat, but no mudpuppies were found.

 Trevor looking for pups

Trilobite impression Matt's son found

Trevor in his unyielding pursuit of Necturus maculosus.  

Peanuts & Cracker Jack

The Chicago Cubs, the baseball team I've hated loved for so many years, the team that has induced episodes of manic tantrums, a lot of head-shaking and exaggerated sighing, shouting of obscenities at the TV, chronic nail-biting, and serious thousand yard stare sessions, have won the World Series.  A couple nights ago, I watched in disbelief as Kris Bryant fielded a bouncer and tossed it into the glove of Anthony Rizzo at first base, ending an unforgettable game 7 of a really good Fall Classic.  As a long-suffering fan of the team, I felt this immense calmness, a satisfying sense of accomplishment, and a lot of old dead weight off of me.  Becoming attached to such a team can be dangerous.  As if I don't have enough things to worry about in life, I always have to hear from others about how bad the team is, how they'll never win because they are cursed, and whatever.  Over time it all sort of accumulates like junk in the home of a hoarder. Now I feel like I've thrown out all of the trash and am living in a pristine, bright new house.  Maybe the grey hairs in my beard will cease to proliferate.

Lumen turned four months old on November 1st.  She has grown from the tender, pink, screaming, colicky newborn to a more inquisitive, smiling, and interactive infant.  She is a lot of fun and Aimee and I are simply swooned.  She started daycare on Halloween and dealing with her inevitable and expected cold symptoms (from the other dirty little kids) has added another dimension to her care.

I'm still pretty much locked into a more routine schedule for the most part.  It's not easy, and over the last few months I see how a lot of parents (namely fathers) become frustrated and walk out of such situations.  I mean, it's not bad when you remind yourself that these are the early years and that this doesn't last forever.  I really enjoy picking Lumen up from daycare, or waking up in the morning and greeting her in her crib, where she always sports a big smile (not sure where she gets this whole happy in the morning thing).  I walk around the house with her, showing her the beautiful fish, or Mr. Turtle, or anything that grabs her attention.  Sometimes when the weather is conducive, we go outside and look at milkweed, and all of the milkweed bugs.  We will see trees, and she watches as I touch the bark and say, "ooohhh, so nice!".  It's something I never really thought I'd like to do, but I see how well she responds and it makes me happy and willing to try new things.  Makes up for all of the diapers, spit up, boogers, cheesy neck, and sicknesses she has had and will continue to have for some time.

Here's a "photo dump" which sort of represents some of the routine and extracurricular activities I've involved myself in the last month or so.

Lumen! Shhh...

 Photographing marine life in the depths of Lumen's nursery.

 My pride & joy, 2005 Honda Civic, in its last day in my possession.  First car I ever bought new, back in 2005.  A lot of adventures, a lot of memories...just not compatible with a baby seat.  That's Cassius' big dog head sticking out the window.  

 New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae)

 Fringed gentian (Gentianopsis crinita) in Cook Co.

 Plains garter snake (Thamnophis radix) in typical urban habitat

 Pine corridor

 Autumn foliage

 Spotted salamanders (Ambystoma maculatum)

 Large, mature oaks bordering old field

 Blue-spotted salamander (Ambystoma laterale)

 Three wiseguy green frogs (Rana clamitans) in a mild state of torpor

 Will Co central newt (Notophthalmus viridescens)

 Cassius at Potawatomie Woods in northern Cook Co

 Early settler cemetery in northern Cook Co

An Island, a Flower, and an Army

According to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources, Illinois contains 324 species of plants that are listed as threatened or endangered, at the state level (251 endangered, 73 threatened).  Some of them are listed because their natural range only slightly encroaches into Illinois from surrounding states where the species is secure.  To put it in herpetological perspective, think of the eastern coachwhip (Masticophis f. flagellum).  In general, the species is doing fine, but the lone population in Illinois, located in a small preserve along the Mississippi River in Monroe County, is not secure, and in fact there is some debate as to whether or not they even still exist there any longer.  Still, there is no proof they're extirpated in Illinois, and Illinois governs itself as its own independent entity, so the species remains listed and protected.

Some plants are listed because their once-abundant reign has been threatened by anthropogenic factors such as the spread of agriculture and development.  Again, if we think of this in herp terms, the best example I can think of is that of the eastern massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus).  This species was once widespread throughout the state and the entirety of its range in the Midwest, but numbers quickly plummeted following the destruction of their habitat and the unwillingness of people to accept the snake as a part of their natural heritage (which of course led to innumerable deaths by stick/shovel/gun/you name it).  Today, the massasauga is extremely rare in Illinois, and not doing particularly well elsewhere.

And then, there are plants that are protected because their entire natural range is a 25-acre (Schwegman, 1991) island in the middle of a river.  And really, not even the entire island - more like a corner of the island.  The Kankakee mallow (Iliamna remota), though occasionally cultivated away from its native habitat, is naturally restricted to Langham Island and is found nowhere else on earth.  Its insular existence creates more questions than answers - why is it found only on the island, and not in nearby areas?  Why doesn't it spread?  How did it get on the island?  If it was ever prehistorically more abundant throughout the region, why is a small island its final stronghold?

  This example of endemicity is not mirrored by any herp in Illinois.  At the top of my head, there are no examples of reptile or amphibian that have such a restricted range, in Illinois or possibly the country.  So that means I'm treading into very unknown territory here since plants are not exactly my forte.  However, as a naturalist, I cannot help but harbor a profound interest in such a rare and mysterious plant.  In June, word got out quickly that the Kankakee mallow was in bloom on Langham Island for the first time in a decade.  A good ecologist friend of mine, Trevor Edmonson, heads up the restoration of Langham Island, and offered to take some time to give me a little tour.  In the worst case scenario, the mallow would not be flowering but I'd still get a kayak trip out of it.  That didn't sound too bad to me - kayaks are my friends.

As good fortune would have it, the Kankakee mallow was in bloom, and to top it off, the day was sunny, breezy, and warm.  I was also quite fortunate I didn't contract poison ivy, since it grows all over the island and I wore shorts.  After paddling to the island, I followed Trevor up a narrow path through dense undergrowth, much of it invasive and in need of removal.  We reached a clear, bright spot on the island where it was evident brush had been removed.  Pieces of charred wood indicated that the area had been burned recently.  Trevor confirmed those were the results of the work he and his army of volunteers carries out on a regular basis.  And there, protected from deer within makeshift wire fences, were the rare and beautiful Kankakee mallow.  It was an honor to be standing there among one of the rarest plants in the country, in the only place it occurs.

 After we got our fill of the mallow, we decided to poke around the island a bit and just explore.  We  searched the island's boundaries, scoping the river for turtles and flipping rocks in search of snakes or frogs.  While flipping a few rocks, Trevor pointed out a rather nondescript plant with little white flowers, growing among the rocks just a few feet from the water's edge.  He said it was called northern corn salad (Valerianella umbilicata).  Okay, so it had a funny name.  A lot of plants have funny names.  But!  This plant also is an endangered species in Illinois.  It has very few occurrences in the state and evidently this was one of them.  Very cool.

You didn't think I'd end this post without a herp, did you?  Here's an adult female northern map turtle (Graptemys geographica) that Trevor yanked from the river.  

In closing, this day stood out as the final outing I'd have before my daughter Lumen was born less than two weeks later.  My free time is precious, but Lumen is even more so, and therefore updates will likely be more sporadic.  Stay tuned, because although I'm slowing down (for the time being), I'm not stopping.  Coming soon:  Intro to Lumen!

Kirtland's Quest: Outside the Box

The Kirtland's snake (Clonophis kirtlandii) is exceedingly rare in northeastern Illinois.  It is a state-threatened species and a candidate for federal protection.  Though remnant populations persist in a few widely scattered areas, on the whole, there isn't much hope at all that the species ever will expand beyond the current known preserves.  Small urban pockets of them once were fairly commonplace; these are now probably all extirpated.  Their wet meadows have either been destroyed or heavily altered through succession, pollution, lowering of the water table, and so on.  They rely heavily on crayfish, as they live and feed within the crayfish burrows.  As the crayfish succumb to similar changes and die off, eventually so do the snakes.

However, there are exceptions to almost every rule, and Kirtland's snakes from a few sites in central Illinois have adapted miraculously well to drastic changes in their habitat.  Long gone are the wet meadows, and in their place are manmade lakes.  Crayfish can still be found in some numbers, but the snakes seem to prefer living along the water's edge, amongst and underneath rocks, boulders, and driftwood.  Manicured grass surrounds the lakes in most areas to facilitate fishing; this seems to have little impact on both the crayfish and the snakes, oddly enough. 

It is an unusual arrangement for an animal as specialized as the Kirtland's snake.  Such a drastic departure from the classic Kirtland's snake habitat, and yet there they are, appearing to be doing just well in places you'd expect to, and will, find northern water snakes (Nerodia sipedon).  This is why, on May 29th, I was alternating between scratching my head and containing my excitement over finding the species while I was searching for this elusive natricine.

 I had gotten up very early that morning to pick up Tristan Schramer so we'd head down together.  En route to the Schramer residence, I passed a large dead common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) on I90 heading west toward the burbs.  It had somehow gotten itself stuck in a construction zone while attempting to cross the highway, and once it made its way between the cement barriers, it was just a matter of time before someone was going to hit it.  Sadly, it was probably a female on her way to lay eggs.  Maybe she had already laid them and was on her way back - that's the best case scenario.

We planned on visiting at least three sites, each with at least one record of a Kirtland's snake.  In all we hit four sites, as well as a few side trips in between to search for the Graham's crayfish snake (Regina grahamii) and the prairie kingsnake (Lampropeltis calligaster).  We found three Kirtland's snakes, including a heavily gravid adult female in prenatal shed, from two of the sites.  Under permit, we collected scale clips for genetic analysis, to be submitted to the Illinois Natural History Survey (INHS).  In order to protect the snakes from collectors or overzealous, irresponsible field herpers (there are a lot of those) , I'm not going to post any defining landmarks or clues that easily give away the sites, but I do want to illustrate the sort of habitat these snakes have somehow adapted well to.

This is the sort of habitat the Kirtland's snakes are found in.  In fact, our first Kirtland's snake was found right here, under the "triangular" rock below the two pieces of wood that form an "x".

 The Kirtland's snakes here have not completely abandoned their classic ways.  Under many of the rocks found in the vicinity, crayfish have constructed burrows.  Though we didn't observe any of the snakes in the direct vicinity of the burrows, we speculate that they do use these to their benefit, at least as hibernacula.

 An adult male Kirtland's snake.  Nobody in their right mind can deny the striking beauty these snakes possess.

 Tristan mugging for the camera with a Kirtland's snake, before we collected a scale clipping and let the snake on its merry way.

 This is a roadside ditch that is under normal circumstances, at least partially filled with water.  This day, it was bone dry.  We looked for snakes without success, but we did find a writhing mass of smallmouth salamander (Ambystoma texanum) and various frog larvae, including grey tree frogs (Hyla versicolor/chrysoscelis) mushed together in the last moist depression at the lowest portion of the ditch.  There was actually no water at all, yet the larvae seemed to be exuding a slime, which collectively formed a moist protectant for the larvae.  Many of the larvae on the outer fringes of the mass were already dead, and flies were numerous on both the living and the dead larvae.  With the day getting warmer and warmer, it was just a matter of time before these larvae were toast.  Tristan and I had thoughts of moving them to the nearby marsh, but we thought better of it and just left these where they were.  Nature will find its way.

 The large gravid Kirtland's snake.  She was ready to pop any day.

A reminder that all activities were performed under a permit that allowed us to collect information for the permitting organization.  All of the Kirtland's snakes were handled minimally - enough for a few photos and for scale clips.  An awesome day, and one that assured us that at least in some places, this species is secure.

Filling in the gaps

Last year, I partook in the first ever bioblitz of a newer, large preserve owned and managed by the Wetlands Initiative.  Tom Anton, Tristan Schramer, and I searched high and low and ultimately added a few species to the organization's list.  Due to the wide variety of habitats and overall scope of the preserve, I felt that there was more there we didn't record during that 24-hour span.  I wanted to return last year after the bioblitz, but I didn't, so I decided to go back this past spring and put some more time in.  I was joined by a few others, none of whom who had been there previously.

It was a picturesque day.  Advancing toward the preserve on the interstate, the air became cleaner and the horizon more and more perceptible.  There's a lot of cropland between Chicago and this preserve.  And even though cropland constitutes a rather dull landscape, there's something about the broad expanse of earth that appeals to me.  It's almost comforting in a way I can't really adequately interpret.  Sometimes I think that long drives out into rural areas are as therapeutic as they are because it's simply a long, largely uninterrupted foray out of a stressful element and into a world that I feel more part of.  Along the way, I pass through tiny, economically-ravaged towns that have seen better days, and whose few holdout residents seem relegated to austere lifestyles.  It's refreshing, in a completely non-condescending way, to see people living like this, even if they don't do it on their own volition. These are places where epiphanies are forged - reminders that not everyone in northern Illinois lives in an urban rat race, scurrying to get the cheese.  Some do just fine with a few crumbs.  And there's nothing wrong with that.

This preserve, located in teeny-tiny Putnam County, consists largely of reclaimed former cropland, which had historically been wetlands but later were drained to make room for corn.  Following the removal of old drain tiles and the retirement of the pump house, the land slowly began taking on water, and is now once again a significant stop for migratory birds. Amphibians and turtles have returned by way of the Illinois River.  Native fish such as pike and bowfin have been stocked.  However, as lush as it seems to be, it's still a work in progress.  One might observe a few old cut corn stalks sticking out of shallow sections of the wetlands, reminders that it wasn't all that long ago when this same place was nothing but a corn desert.

Aside from the expansive wetlands (which include two seeps), there are sandy areas and woodlands.  These are the areas we focused on when we visited on May 21st.  Our hopes once again were to supply the Wetlands Initiative with an updated (and ideally expanded) herpetofaunal list for their records.  We saw some other really cool things along the way, of course.

A remnant sand savanna.  This area is relatively steeply-sloped and very sandy, not an ideal place to plant corn.  It borders the former corn field (now a series of wetlands once again) to the west and is topped by some older, large trees to the east.  It is a stronghold for sand-loving plants and animals.  Herps found here include bullsnakes, blue racers, racerunners, and eastern milk snakes.

 A field of foxglove penstemon (Penstemon digitalis)

 Our first herp of the trip was a bittersweet find - this blue racer (Coluber constrictor foxii) was a new species for the preserve, which was great.  But unfortunately, like many others of its species, this one was afflicted with what I believe to be snake fungal disease (SFD), a condition that causes disfigurement of the face and head of the host, and in more severe cases, throughout the body.  It seems like I've found more blue racers with SFD than without.  The cause of SFD is not clear, though some speculate it could be a systematic reaction to glyphosphate, better known as Roundup.  

 One of many eastern garter snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis)

 Maya with a chunky adult female garter snake.

 A hatchling painted turtle (Chrysemys picta) makes its way to the water.  

 Some blue flag iris (Iris versicolor)

 I often associate filth and slobbery with cities, but in fact human nature knows no boundaries.  Here's a classic rural wooded dump site that yielded no herps.

 One of the participants, Jeremy Schumacher, found these old Atari joysticks amid the giant heaps of human refuse.

 The first of SEVEN milk snakes (Lampropeltis triangulum), and the only one found under natural cover.  Credit goes to Colleen Schwarz for finding it.

 Bee balm (genus Monarda)

 We got permission from an adjacent landowner to search his property.  We could tell it had potential because it was littered in stacks of old tin, piles of logs, mounds of tires.  This old truck was tucked away behind some silos.  It is slowly being consumed by the forest.

 Matt Bordeaux and I made quick work of a smelly, decrepit old shed.  So quick, he appears as a blur.  There was nothing in here except for rat droppings and the sickening stink of motor oil and mildew.

 This scene appears to be straight out of a Chris McCandless selfie.  This old truck at some point somehow got to the top of a wooded hillside.  Things that make you go hmmm...

 A casualty of our environmental footprint, this hatchling red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) never even got to feel water.  It was squashed like a penny on a rail right on a sandy access road about three hundred yards from the shoreline of the lake it was heading to.  This was a new species for the preserve list.

 One more gap filled for the preserve was the western fox snake (Pantherophus vulpinus), a species I'm surprised we didn't get last year.  This large male was flipped under a board but placed in a tree by Matt for photos.