Ryerson Woods

A few photos from an October 4th hike at Ryerson Woods in Lake County, IL, where I was joined by Dan Melone.  The area is comprised largely of northern flatwoods and most of it appears as it did pre-settlement.

 This maple tree is massive.  Probably the biggest I've ever seen.

 One of six blue-spotted salamanders (Ambystoma laterale) seen.

 We chased a few green frogs (Lithobates clamitans) in the creek.

 One of several extant historic cabins in the woods, the Ryerson cabin has become derelict due to years of neglect.  Some details...

Along the iron veins

I've often thought about how prevalent railroad tracks are as they relate to field herping.  At least in the Northeastern Illinois region, where I conduct most of my field outings, railroad tracks very often indicate potential herp habitat.  Usually, the less the tracks are used, the better the chances that you'll find snakes.  And usually, abandoned right-of-ways (ROWs) provide the best chances.  But why is this?  Why are snake aficionados drawn to railroad tracks, at times risking persecution, to find snakes?

It all boils down to a lack of disturbance.  When the majority of the local railroad tracks were laid down in the late 19th-early 20th century, the landscape was very different from how it is today.  The railroad tracks were installed across prairies and through woodlands.  Over time, communities sprang up along railroad tracks as the railroad became a primary mode of transportation.  Farms replaced the natural landscapes, destroying habitat for so many species of plants and animals.  However, a thin strip of land on either side of the railroad tracks was usually left as a buffer.  And for a long time, no one paid any mind to what happened in those areas.  They were left to grow wild and became the last strongholds for many species.  Later on, much of those lush areas were subjected to herbicides in order to clear the way.  But not all - some were left alone, and today, many biologists credit those "green corridors" with providing habitat for some critically imperiled species of plants that may not have survived had the railroad tracks not been built.

To this day, the edges of railroad tracks can provide crucial habitat for a number of plants and animals.  When the tracks bisect or border a preserve, you're generally going to find a greater diversity of species.  The open nature of a ROW provides habitat for species typically associated with savanna or prairie ecosystems, particularly if the ROW is located in or along a wooded preserve.  In some cases, tracks were installed while the surrounding area was open, but then over time, circumstances (including suppression of fire) allowed the area to become overgrown and wooded, relegating the open-habitat species to the narrow railroad corridor.

Sometimes, snakes frequent railroad tracks located away from preserves, sometimes very far away from preserves in built-up, highly urban areas.  In these areas, the railroad tracks and the exceedingly narrow strip of junk habitat offer the bare minimum of what a few species require to survive.  Plains garter snakes (Thamnophis radix) and brown snakes (Storeria dekayi), both small, rugged, live-bearing generalists, are prime examples of such snakes that can withstand truly urban environments.  Those two species are the most common snakes in Chicago, and by far the most common snakes I see.  And of course, the more cover they have access to, the better chances they have of properly thermoregulating, finding food, and staying concealed from predators.

If you know where to look, you might find other species of snakes along railroad tracks in or just outside of Chicago, such as redbelly snakes (Storeria occipitomaculata) and smooth green snakes (Opheodrys vernalis).  On September 13th, I explored a long-abandoned ROW in northern Cook County that was reported to support smooth green snakes.  Of course, the reports were from the late 1990s, and a lot can happen in almost twenty years.  Turns out that although there are still a few tiny patches of prairie remnant along the ROW, the tracks are now being taken over by all kinds of pioneer species such as teasel, milkweed, thistle, and goldenrod - most of which are invasive.  I walked about four miles, two in each direction, and surprisingly, I did not find one snake - not even a brown or garter.  Very unusual.

Looking down the tracks.  

 Sights like this make field herpers salivate.  Though I came across a number of these piles of old railroad ties and other trash, I didn't find any snakes.

 Between the tracks and this electrical substation lie a thin strip of relatively undisturbed prairie "remnant"; as far as I can tell, based on old aerial maps and plat maps, this area hasn't been touched much.

I swear, I didn't notice these signs until I was on my way out...

Fermilab Herp Blitz

Once upon a time, there was a small farming town outside of Chicago called Weston.  Weston was a quiet town, and small enough that most of the residents knew each other.  Some of the farms were multigenerational; well-established families had deep roots in the area.  In the mid-1960s, not long before planned developments would have turned Weston from a sleepy farming community to booming suburban powerhouse, the federal government claimed 6,800 acres of land which included all of Weston and its farms for the development of a high-energy particle physics laboratory (I'd like to make it clear that this is some serious rocket science stuff, stuff that is so beyond my scope of comprehension that I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what goes on inside those thick walls).  The lab, today known as Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory (Fermilab), makes up a small percentage of the actual acreage; there are relatively vast expanses of land surrounding the lab in all directions.  This, to my understanding, was to provide a sort of "buffer", considering the nature of experiments that take place there.  Today, the land is used for various purposes, including agriculture (the lab leases out sections of the property to soybean farmers).  A substantial percentage of the land, however, has been or is being restored to its natural state.  There are prairies, savannas, woodlands, wetlands, streams, ponds, and lakes.  And still in place since pre-Fermilab days are the old country roads that criss-cross the property, along with houses, barns, and outbuildings that seem frozen in time.  In many ways, entering Fermilab is like entering a time warp.  The property clashes with nearby suburbs that have long been "de-farmed".  Respecting the area's history, Fermilab maintains the old properties and uses them for various uses today.

Tristan Schramer is a fellow field herper who, when not attending college, volunteers his time with Fermilab's ecology program under head ecologist Ryan Campbell.  Tristan is well-trained in ecology but like me, his primary interest is herpetology.  A project he has been heavily involved in is surveying the entire accessible portion of the site for reptiles and amphibians.  He collects data on distribution patterns of various species and is hopeful that his efforts can prove the existence of one or several uncommon species.  As Fermilab provides a lot of habitat (or potential habitat) for native species, it is important to understand what species are present, where they occur, and how past developments have impacted their existence on the site.  The more data Tristan has, the more prepared Ryan is in writing up land management plans and conducting restoration practices such as prescribed burns.  With the exception of a few small and isolated preserves, the vast majority of the land surrounding Fermilab has been developed into housing subdivisions, malls, industrial parks, an airport, and golf courses.  Tristan would like to see Fermilab remain a safe haven for herps and actually help improve the site with the help of other volunteers and of course, Ryan.

Tristan & crew organized a herp blitz that took place on September 19th and he was kind enough to invite me to help out.  It was be a day-long affair - we'd meet in the morning, go over the plans, break into groups, and head out in search of herps.  It ended up being a true "dream team" of very knowledgeable, respected, and experienced field herpers, the likes of which I like to work with since I can pull from those people to improve my own methods.  Tom Anton, Tristan and Ryan, Matt Bordeaux and his wife Shannon (and their young daughter, a pro field herper in the making), Matt Ignoffo and his two kids, Doug Mills, Yatin Kalki, Sam Brolley, and Stephen Spanos, as well as others who remained at the "home base" office throughout the day. 

My group (Ryan, Doug, sometimes Sam, and myself) explored the site by truck.  We used a map and GPS coordinates to locate cover board arrays throughout the north portion of the site.  

Here's Doug with a great find, a Western fox snake (Pantherophis vulpina) we found under a cover board in a wetland.

 A plant that distracted us for a few minutes - nodding ladies' tresses (Spiranthus cernua), a not-super-common species that is an indicator of a healthy ecosystem.

 This active railroad embankment is the eastern border of Fermilab.  Just east of here are a few parks and subdivisions.  Immediately to the west (right of the tracks in this photo) is where a thick stand of buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica) had just been removed (note the bare ground).  West of that is a thin strip of true remnant prairie, itself bordered by hundreds of acres of soybeans and a buzzing powerline.

 Not surprisingly, the tracks gave up a good amount of herps, mostly garter snakes of two species (Thamnophis sirtalis and T. radix).  Here, I explain to Ryan the difference between a male and a female (photo by Doug Mills).

 Toward the end of the day, all the groups coalesced and searched for smooth green snakes (Opheodrys vernalis) in an area where one was found last year.  No smooth greens were found, but a whole bunch of garters and brown snakes (Storeria dekayi) were.  This particular cover board produced a bunch of young brown snakes (photo by Tristan Schramer).

 Here we are, heading to an old gravel lot where disused equipment rots and disintegrates.

 One of our last finds of the day was a chunky tiger salamander (Ambystoma tigrinum) I found under a piece of junk behind some abandoned truck trailers.  It, along with every other find, was photographed as a voucher specimen and submitted to HerpMapper.

 The team!

At the end of the day, we collected enough data to sort over for weeks.  We all had a ton of fun, and I learned a lot from my blitz mates.  Here's to Fermilab and its herp diversity - and hopefully, there is a lot more to discover for next year.

Clonophis

The lone representative of the genus Clonophis, the Kirtland's snake (Clonophis kirtlandi), is a rare species that is seldom seen.  Listed as near threatened by the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, the diminutive Kirtland's snake is found only in parts of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, and Kentucky.  Historically it was found as far east as Pennsylvania (currently listed as "possibly extirpated") and as far west as northeastern Missouri (a single record in 1964 [Jones, 1967, Johnson, 1987]).  It is listed as endangered in Michigan, Indiana, and Pennsylvania, and as threatened in Illinois and Ohio.  Range maps can often be misleading - in the case of the Kirtland's snake, they are especially so.  Its range, represented in field guides as encompassing a fairly wide swath of the north-central Midwest, is highly fragmented, and though it isn't likely all populations have been recorded, the number of known populations is relatively small.  Their secretive nature doesn't make it easy for herpetologists to accurately survey them.

Kirtland's snakes are highly fossorial, living a secretive and subterranean lifestyle.  They are very much associated with crayfish, since they utilize their burrows as refugia in all seasons.  Because of their dependence on crayfish, Kirtland's snakes are never found far from wet areas such as mesic prairies, meadows, fens, open woodland, and similar environments.  Living in holes underground, it isn't very difficult for the Kirtland's snake to find its food - chiefly worms.  During heavy rains, Kirtland's snakes will surface, but usually avoid exposure.  Sometimes they can be found underneath logs or artificial cover such as discarded boards, roofing shingles, or sheet metal.

Long ago, prior to the draining of wetlands and the destruction of prairies for agriculture, the Kirtland's snake was much more common than it is today.  Nowadays, their occurrence is very sporadic.  In the Chicago area, they are restricted to a few tiny patches of habitat - a mere fraction of what they once enjoyed.  Not very long ago, it wasn't unusual to find them in empty lots in Chicago, as well as smaller cities and towns in the region.  Kirtland's snakes were known for persisting in less-than-ideal habitat, that is, until degradation become so severe that one of several things happened - the water table sank, the crayfish died, or in some cases, all the snakes were captured or killed off.  Though some Kirtland's snakes today can be found in degraded habitat, the habitat must include at the very least fair enough conditions to allow crayfish to survive, and must be large enough to ensure a viable population of snakes.  The smaller the population, the less variety of genetic material to pass on to the next generation.

In my opinion, with the exception of perhaps the plains garter snake (Thamnophis radix), no other snake best embodies the spirit of Chicago area herpetology as it pertains to natural history as the Kirtland's snake.  The Kirtland's snake's storied beginnings as we know it all started with famous naturalist and explorer Robert Kennicott, who collected the type specimen in what is today Glenview, IL, and described it in 1856.  He named it in honor of Dr. Jared Potter Kirtland, a mentor of Kennicott.  As Kennicott became famous as both a naturalist and explorer, so did the Kirtland's snake, to leagues of herpetologists and amateur field herpers who sought out the elusive denizen of swampy areas and wet fields.  To this day, the Kirtland's snake remains a target for many who have an interest in local snakes.  Many have never seen one.  Their unwillingness to appear during searches, coupled with their rarity, has turned the Kirtland's snake into a sort of "white whale" for many.  Ideally, the last few strongholds for the Kirtland's snake in the Chicago region should be restricted to all but the most appropriate personnel - land managers, researchers, herpetologists - both they aren't.  Some populations have been stomped down by well-intentioned (or sometimes, not so well-intentioned) folks who seek the snakes for photographs or for the pet trade.  As Kirtland's snakes make poor captives, there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for capturing Kirtland's snakes to sell in the black market pet trade.  People will still do it for status or ego boosting.  Each Kirtland's snake that is harmed is another hit to the already perilous wild population (remember that natural predation doesn't go away just because the Kirtland's snake is rare; though there are less to be seen and therefore eaten, a heron or raccoon would not hesitate to take one as a snack if the opportunity arose).

In my field excursions, I always look for telltale signs of Kirtland's snake habitat when the opportunity arises.  It would be very surprising if any additional populations were discovered in the Chicago area.  As early as the 1940s, the species was known to be rare in the Chicago area (Pope, 1947).  Pentecost and Vogt (1976) also noted its rarity.  A population in northern Cook County that once persisted in a power line cut hasn't been observed since 1986 (Anton, 1999).  A population in southern Cook County persists in a small, well-managed restored prairie (this could represent the final stronghold for the species in Cook County).  Other known populations have been exterminated due to development in the area (T. Anton, M. Ignoffo 2014, pers. comm.), and any possible remaining populations would be under heavy threat of extirpation due to development or invasive species. (An ongoing study I've headed up over the last few years, and particularly this past year, is the survey of an urban scrap of undeveloped land [DRCA] for any proof of the existence of Kirtland's snakes.)

Without a doubt, the best population of Kirtland's snakes in the Chicago area occurs in Will County.  With two known localities located on Forest Preserve District of Will County (FPDWC) property (Anton, 2007), it is imperative that the snake's habitat not only remains protected, but properly managed.  The snakes in Will County are consistently found during cover board surveys, but low rates of recapture along with other variables ensure that monitoring will remain challenging (Mauger and Anton, 2015).

In early September, I went down to the Will County habitat to observe the snakes' habitat, in part to learn more about how I might find Kirtland's snakes in my own surveys of urban plots.  I met once again with Tom Anton, who is one of the top minds when it comes to the species' status and distribution in the area (and the state).  First, we walked around a pond carpeted in duckweed that was chock-full of young bullfrogs (Lithobates catesbeiana) while looking for Northern water snakes (Nerodia sipedon).  We then headed toward one of the areas where the Kirtland's snakes have been found.  I noticed that the area in general contained perched wetlands, a component of the DRCA that I know Kirtland's snakes can be associated with.  Numerous prairie crayfish burrows and chimneys dotted the mini-landscape.  This locality was very small and provided hope that maybe there could be Kirtland's snakes at the DRCA, which is small itself but larger than this particular locality.

Next, Tom and I drove to an area off-site, where he had laid out cover boards over a decade ago.  It had been a long time since he checked them, and so even finding them proved to be a minor challenge.  But Tom is a human GPS and he found them in short order; together we ripped them up from under tall vegetation that had established itself in the intervening years since he was last here.  No snakes were found.  And so then we were off to another site located on FPDWC property where we hiked through very tall grass, saw a couple of Northern leopard frogs (Lithobates pipiens) and a single midland brown snake (Storeria dekayi).  As the temperature rose to a sufficient level, we decided to road cruise a few back roads in the area.  A few DOR Eastern garter snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis) were found, along with a single live specimen.  It was a particularly attractive garter snake.  A few more scattered snakes and frogs were observed, live and dead, including a fresh large DOR fox snake (Pantherophis vulpina) that was collected as a voucher, and a neonate of the same species found live on the crawl.  Following lunch, we ended our day, both having collected some data and me with a better understanding of Clonophis.  

A few final thoughts I had on the way home:  What is to become of the Kirtland's snake?  Will the species be around in 50 years?  100 years?  How practical would it be to attempt a translocation of the species to suitable habitat in the region?  Would a captive breeding program work for this species?  How will population increase affect the snakes?  These kinds of thoughts plague my mind all the time.  Tom is confident that the Kirtland's snake is "doing okay" in the state.  If anyone else assured me of that with any degree of confidence, I'd be critical of that perspective, but I do trust Tom's outlook.  Still, I can't help think about how much we've reduced the species in the Chicago area, the state, and in its entire historic range altogether.  We are content that most of the Kirtland's snakes in the state occur in protected areas, but is what's out there enough in the long term?  All we can really do is try our best to right the wrongs we've committed, and that means to protect as much suitable habitat we can, make sure that land remains in good condition, and educate others about why these things are being done, and maybe help others understand why Clonophis is such an iconic symbol of our region's heritage.

The Kirtland's snake remained unseen, but this beautiful garter snake provided some excitement on the trip.

Door County

Our dog Cassius is a cherished member of our family.  He is kind-hearted and fairly passive, but a true adventurer and a lover of life experiences.  For these reasons, it always makes us feel a little sad when we go away on a trip and have to leave him with family.  I know he loves family, but more than that, he loves to be by our side everywhere we go.  Hanging his big scruffy head out of the car window, walking in the woods, catching a flick at the drive-in, and sniffing out interesting smells along rivers and lakes.  When we planned a short trip to Door County, Wisconsin last month, we planned it such that Cassius could be with us.  A dog-friendly hotel, a movie at a drive-in, restaurants with outdoor seating, etc.  We went for a long walk at Peninsula State Park, where I searched for wood frogs to photograph.  We also visited Ephraim Wetlands Preserve and Whitefish Dunes State Park.  Overall, we had a great trip.

Here's a picture Aimee took of me and Cassius with a multi-trunk tree.

 Aimee and Cassius at the hotel's dock on Green Bay.

 There was some fantastic geology throughout the peninsula.  Here are some features on the hotel property.

 Lots of cedars, mosses, lichens & fungi, talus rock, & karst topography.

 I found this cave at the top of a steep slope.  I decided to explore it...

 A view out from the inside.

 Our trip to Peninsula State Park was memorable.  It was a great day to search for wood frogs (Lithobates sylvaticus), and I was hopeful to see some.

 I stopped by a big fallen tree to admire all the ferns and mosses that were growing on the old root ball.  It was then that I noticed the wood frog!  It turned out to be the only one I'd see on the entire trip.  This is how I came up upon the frog - in-situ.

A closer shot of this plump forest beauty.

I moved the frog to this new pose for a few more shots.

There was no shortage of really cool fungi.  I took so many photos but there is no way I can post them all here, so here are a few select shots.

These little ones seemed to glow.

Vivid orange fungus on large rocks.

We passed this old, long-abandoned mansion and stopped to take photos.  Right on front of the house was a fresh DOR western fox snake (Pantherophis vulpinus).

Back at the hotel, I decided to return to the talus slopes to look for redback salamanders (Plethodon cinereus).

They turned up underneath almost every rock.

These are notoriously difficult to photograph.

We watched Antman at the second oldest drive-in theater in the state.

On the way back home, we stopped at Whitefish Dunes for about an hour and a half.  Here are a few shots from our short visit.

North Branch

When most people think about the Chicago River, they envision a picturesque stream of water that cuts through downtown Chicago, providing framing for many of the city's skyscrapers.  Many think about how important the river is/was for commerce and industry.  Few would consider the river to a safe place to swim and play in, since it has a bad reputation for being filthy.  Though you'll see kayaks on the river downtown, you probably won't see paddlers splashing that water on their bodies for relief from the sun.  In fact, effluence from all types of sources empties into the river, including raw sewage during heavy storms, since Chicago's combined sewer system cannot handle runoff the way other large cities do.  So, though cleaner than it was a century ago, much of the river isn't what I'd consider to be anything more than a thoroughfare for boats.

Upstream on the North Branch, before the river enters the highly-developed cityscape, much of it is wrapped in forest preserve.  Part of the reason for this is because the river has a wide floodplain (for a small river) and building close to the river would be disastrous.  The northern section of the North Branch hasn't been engineered, channelized, or altered nearly to the the extent that the southern portion has.  You can still view the river from the forest preserves and plan on seeing various birds, mammals, herps, and aquatic animals you wouldn't see downtown.  Don't get me wrong - you won't feel like you're in Shangri-La.  There are still huge issues, including erosion, sediment pollution, contaminants, invasive species.  The number of species found is nothing compared to what you'd have found pre-European settlement.  In particular, most of the mussel, fish, plant, and bird species are gone.  However, there's enough decent-quality habitat to support a selection of hardy generalists.  Herps are represented better than many would think, considering the overall quality of habitat.

On August 2nd, I spent about two hours walking along the North Branch of the Chicago River within a forest preserve, counting the number of herp species I found.  In that time, I found six species - all known to occur in disturbed areas, but also indicators that things aren't THAT bad.

First, I saw this great blue heron (Ardea herodias) poking and prodding for aquatic animals upon which it dines.

 I saw something big stirring around near the bank, and quickly realized it was a big common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina).  I slowly inched my way onto a big downed tree along the bank of the river to get a better shot, but just as I got situated, the turtle slowly lost interest in patrolling the area, turned, and disappeared into the deeper, darker waters of the river.

 Interestingly enough, neither me nor anyone I know have ever seen painted turtles (Chrysemys picta) in this particular stretch of the river.  Earlier this year, friend and naturalist Jeff Skrentny photographed a common map turtle (Graptemys geographica) here - the first account I've ever heard of one in the area.  What we do see, in addition to snappers, are red-eared sliders (Trachemys scripta).  Though these are native to parts of southern and central Illinois, it is unclear whether or not they make their way up to the Chicago area naturally via rivers and tributaries, or if the ones here are all escaped pets or descendants of those escapees.  Certainly, many of the sliders ARE in fact escaped pets - red-eared sliders are by and large the most commonly-kept (and released) pet turtle in the United States (and possibly the world).  The question is, have the turtles managed to reach the region naturally in small numbers, validating their status as naturally-occurring?  Since this red-eared slider allowed me to get fairly close before she plopped into the water, I'd have to guess this was once someone's pet.

 Maybe the biggest surprise were the northern leopard frogs (Lithobates pipiens) present along the river in wet areas full of tall grasses.  As a young kid, I explored these same forest preserves, and never saw leopard frogs.  I believe that habitat restoration has helped these frogs a lot.  Areas once choked with buckthorn have been cleared and now, the sunlight reaches the woodland floor, where stands of tall grasses grow in wet, marshy areas along the river.  A stroll on the path next to these grasses will result in leopard frogs leaping about everywhere.  I tried to catch a few, but they were too fast.  Luckily, I later found this one, sitting right on the bank of the river.  I was able to kneel down, get a few shots, and get up without alarming the frog.

 Not really surprising was a sighting of a muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus). 

 I usually find brown snakes (Storeria dekayi) in more open areas, but this one was actually under a dense canopy, in the dark under a log.

 I saw another big snapper and tried to redeem myself, but again, this one had no interest in paparazzi and turned and walked away.

 American toad (Anaxyrus americanus) - a classic.

 I'm not a skilled birder but I think this is a cedar waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum).

 Finally, to top off the walk, were two big, fat bullfrogs (Lithobates catesbeiana) sitting squat in the muddy substrate of the river.  These also let me get pretty close for photos; one did eventually dive for cover, but this one was more tolerant.  Note the water strider photobomb.  These frogs need permanent water to breed in since their tadpoles take two years or more to metamorphose into the adult form.  The only such body of water in the area is the river itself - a slough in the same preserve typically dries out by mid-summer.  The slough holds water long enough to support the toads and leopard frogs most years, but is insufficient for reproducing bullfrogs.