"Plenty o' Pocono Pickerels" or "We have treefrogs north of the Mason-Dixon Line?"

NOTE: So because I'm stupid and don't pay attention, it turns out that my short entry on toads up at work was still chronologically correct in relation to this (and future) stories. I guess that's not a bad thing. I has the dumb. But I digress...

September 2013 was warm overall as I recall, and I had a lot of herping action when looking back on it in retrospect. This time, I was back up in the Poconos, but 40 miles west on I-80 from where I was during Spring Gobbler season and my abundance of red efts. This time, I was in Monroe County, and I thought I knew what was in store for me. I've obviously herped in the Poconos before, I knew what I would find...right? Well, I was both right and wrong.

My band (this is not a cheap band plug) decided to do some band bonding and go up to my bassist's family's mountain house. It was in a private development and had lots of majestic Pocono scenery. I knew it was going to be a prime herping spot as soon as I stepped out of the car. A lot of the development was smack dab in the middle of the woods without much actual "developing", i.e., it had a lot of dirt/gravel roads, was very quiet, and...we were smack dab in the middle of the woods. At this point, I needed a few days to recharge, and what better way to do it than in the Pocono mountains? It was also good times with the bandmates, who have quickly become more of my friends than people I play music with (*tear*). PLUS I could go out and look for herpetological animals (that's too long to continually type out. Someone needs to come up with a word for "herps" that doesn't sound like an STD. Actually, I'm not even sure if that phrase was grammatically correct).

After arriving later at night than everyone else, and having to catch up on drinking and tomfoolery, we went and took a walk down to the creek and waterfall near the house. It was lit up with flood lights (after we flipped the switch on, actually) and pretty cool to see. I decided I'd make my way down there the next day and inspect the area. After some more drinking, we went to bed, ready for a full day of outdoorsing (I like making up my own words) and nature. I actually woke up at daybreak, went downstairs and read by the fireplace (I'm also sophisticated) until I decided to venture outside and take a look around the house. My bassist, Pedro Loco, told me that there was a big ol' toad that lives around the back stone porch, usually near the drain pipe. Mr. Toad was not at home. I continued making my way around the house, flipping rocks and logs, hoping I'd come up with something other than the more "common" (or at least common to me) species that I tend to find in Pennsylvania. Getting around to the driveway, there were tons of logs. No luck there, either. It was a little chilly out, being September and all, but I doubted that it was chilly enough to cause the herps to be really hiding. I finally came across a familiar sight:

Haven't I seen you here before?

Good old redback salamanders. I knew I could count on you to rekindle my hope for herps (that sounded terrible)! After I found this little triumvirate of salamandery cuteness, that was about all I saw around the house..except for a ton of squirrels.

I decided to take a walk down the path from the night before towards the waterfall and have a look around. I forgot to mention: I never got changed out of my pajamas when I initially went outside, so I was walking through the chilly morning woods (ha! morning woods!) in my pajama pants and slippers. I painfully made my way down the path, flipping more rocks and logs that I thought would yield some herps. 

Slippers not welcomed.

Alas, nothing. I kept walking and sat down at a bench overlooking the creek and waterfall and relaxed a bit. It was rather nice, serene, even.

This is not the waterfall.

 I didn't often just sit in the woods unless I was hunting, which usually meant I was preoccupied with actually hunting and didn't really get a chance to take in and enjoy the scenery. I sat there for a while and planned out my day. Everyone wanted to go fishing later at this big lake, which I of course thought to be prime herping real estate by the sound of it. But first, breakfast, and then I'd attempt to shoot some squirrels with Pedro Loco's air rifle. The hunter in me couldn't resist. I finally got up and made my way back to the house.

Some of the aforementioned Pocono majesty.

After breakfast and many failed attempts at shootin' me a squirrel (this air rifle sucked: it misfired, jammed, and would more so lob pellets than shoot them), we geared up and walked down the road a few minutes to the big lake. I usually herped around much smaller bodies of water (creeks, ponds, vernal pools, small lakes) up in the Poconos, so I didn't know if this huge lake would be a bust or not. I'm fairly sure it was man-made, or minimally altered by people. But Pedro Loco assured me there were tons of frogs and turtle and newts, so I was hopeful. When we got down there, I was impressed, and anxious to get to it. Pedro Loco said that there were bald eagles that lived on the lake. I was skeptical, but sure enough, we saw two young eagles flying around, and eventually an adult, white head and all, being all majestic. I was actually kinda pissed that the only camera I had was my horrible camera phone, and I failed miserably at trying to capture the eagles in picture form. I admit that was really cool to see, though. After that nature-tease, everyone else manned a few of the boats that the community had there and made their way on to the lake to fish. Pedro Loco in a canoe, and my drummer whom we'll call Baxter, his wife and their son Lil' Man in another. Our guitarist did not show up on our band trip, so an impromptu jam sesh at a bonfire near the lake was totally out of the question.

Someone's getting flipped.

As I watched them struggle to paddle, I got right in the water along the bank (as I had my monster waterproof hunting boots on). Instantly, I watched the lake begin to come to life as I stirred and startled water. It was teeming with late-season tadpoles! They darted away in every direction, but stopped long enough for me to get a look: green frog and pickerel frog tadpoles. Awesome. I'd like to mention now that I had no net at all. I was going to do this all by hand (In my head, I'd like to think I'm an excellent frog catcher with my hands. I've had enough practice catching them without a net for years.) It didn't take me long to catch my first herp: a juvenile green frog. I see these guys a lot, even in Philly, but these guys are still one of my favorites to catch. 

I'd like to think that the more there are of a common species like this one, or like my beloved toads, that the local ecosystem and herp population is doing well. For those that are out of the loop, amphibians especially are very sensitive to environmental changes due to their skin, so they're usually a good indicator on how it's doing. 

I put him in my carrying tank and proceeded down the bank. I came across more juvenile green frogs, and as I suspected, juvenile pickerel frogs as well. I secretly always hope it's a leopard frog every time I see a pickerel, but I'm still glad to see them around. I caught one and put him in my carrying case. I missed about 4 or so more of each, catching another young green frog. I even managed to catch a tadpole with my hands, 'cause that's how good I am. A true G among herpers. I went back and forth like this for a while as my bandmates and co. fished unsuccessfully. When they docked again, we pulled the boats onto the bank where we got them. As I walked away, Baxter called me over and pointed down at the ground: he had almost stepped on an BIG pickerel frog. This thing was almost 4 inches, which is big for them. It didn't move; it just sat there in the mud on the bank. Of course, as we all walked over to investigate and see if I could catch it, he jumped under the boat and then into the water. Bastard. My drummer's son, Lil' Man (that's what I'm calling him in the article) of course wanted to see what I was catching, which at this point, were 2 green frogs, a pickerel frog, and a green frog tadpole. I took a green frog out and snapped this picture, of course for blogging purposes.

I'm being exploited for my looks.

I continued my search up and down the bank. I saw hundreds of tadpoles all along the way, but no turtles, no newts, and no more frogs after a point. I probably scared the hell out of them. The lack of red-spotted (or eastern) newts was odd to me. I was still happy with my finds for the day, and it wasn't over yet. We wound up staying and fishing for a while longer and eventually went back to the house. After a lunch break and hanging around (and a nap), I asked everyone if they wanted to go on a hike down and around the waterfall. So, we did. 

THIS is the waterfall.

Pedro Loco and Baxter brought their fishing rods, and I naturally made my way around the edges of the creek and pool at the bottom of the waterfall in search of creatures. I crossed the wooden bridge from once side of the creek to the other and climbed the steep rock bank next to the waterfall. I managed to not lose my footing and slip on the wet rocks, painfully slip n' sliding my way down into the rocks in the water below, which was a feat. It flattened out and made a wide shelf a few times and had several small pools of water collected in the crevices of the rocks. There, I found more juvenile green frogs hanging out. I figured this was much safer for them near the waterfall, as predators probably didn't venture out near there on the slick rocks too often. 

I, however, am twice as brave, but half as smart as a raccoon or fox.

The two green frog babies kept me occupied while everyone yet again unsuccessfully fished. We decided to put the fishing equipment back in exchange for the air rifle and an BB handgun. It's okay; they were Pedro Loco's guns, and I'm a hunter, and Baxter is a cop, so we were totally safe. We decided to have some target practice by shooting a can about 20 or 30 yards away. Pedro Loco (that is so fun to say!) suggested that we go back behind the house through the woods into an old stone quarry. He had actually suggested it before when I was talking about herping. He said that the quarry would fill up with water when it rained, and in the spring especially, it would be flooded and filled with frogs and whatnot. This, children, is called a vernal pool, and is very important to amphibian survival.

We walked back through a trail, and then through about 5 inches of mud to get to the quarry. It basically was just a narrow field totally filled with stones and some small boulders. It was also pretty dry, so I didn't bother looking for anything, and daydreamed of a spring rain filling the quarry and it buzzing with amphibious life while I waited my turn to shoot the air rifle. It turned out to be pretty accurate. The handgun...not so much. We basically pulled a Keanu Reeves in Point Break every time we shot it; just recklessly unloading the BB clip hitting absolutely nothing in the process. I hit the can every time with the rifle (of course I did), and it got boring pretty quickly waiting my turn, so I started looking around. I'm glad I did, because I literally never would have noticed my next find.

I saw something jump in the grass and rocks, but it was really tiny. I actually don't know what I thought it was at first: a spring peeper, a toadlet, heck, it could have been a cricket. Was it a cricket? Nay! It was a treefrog. My first treefrog! Well, not my first. I had caught green tree frogs down in Florida and South Carolina whilst on vacation, but I never expected to ever see one in Pennsylvania! Yes, I KNOW we have them here, but I just figured they were super hard to find, or I didn't know any good areas to look. So this was my first Pennsylvania treefrog: a newly metamorphosized gray treefrog!

Ain't I totes adorbs?

I was extremely happy to find this little guy. I don't really have "lifers" that I look for when I'm out like a lot of herpers do. I just go out every time hoping I find something, and eventually something new I've never found before. This find definitely got me excited. We all marveled at this little fella, and I of course went into Steve Irwin mode and started explaining what it was and stuff to everyone. He didn't like to cooperate for the camera, or stay in my hand very long. He wound up free-fall base jumping out of my hands a few times, or crawling up my shirt to my chest. 

He's camera shy.

He tried to escape a few times through the grass, but I managed to recapture him. During one escape attempt, I got down on the ground to get him, only to find ANOTHER ONE! This little guy had the green coloration to him, which I thought was so awesome. I'd never caught a gray treefrog before, let alone a new metamorph (which I believe are extremely hard to find in general due to their size and time of year you're looking), let alone TWO metamorphs! Then I got to catch one of both types of color patterns.

HAND OVER THE GODDAMN TREEFROG NOW!

My drummer's wife (whom may beat me if she reads this and I gave her a bad nickname) helped me corral these two little maniacs up long enough to snap some pictures of them. I even managed to get a pic of both of them on each hand together, but I either deleted it, or I absolutely made that part up. We showed Lil' Man, and he helped me release them into the tall grass after a few minutes of me entering herping heaven. All was right with the universe. 

Nothing could top these finds. I had found something totally new, and the closest thing I had to a lifer. We walked back and I flipped a few more rocks to find, as expected, another redback. I thought it was fitting to end the day by finding another one of these little guys, who I don't mind finding at all, despite their frequency in my finds.

You were expecting maybe, Humphrey Bogart?

We went back to the house, had dinner, drank and were merry. I actually wound up feeling sick after we went to bed, so I packed it up and left in utter darkness of the woods and a cold rain in the middle of the night. I went slow on the winding roads, despite there not being another soul out at this time of night. In my headlights, I noticed what looked like leaves blowing on the ground, except it really wasn't windy at all. I slowed to a crawl, and I noticed they were frogs! This was my unofficial first time "road cruising" for herps in the rain. I put my high beams on, made sure not to move until there were no more frogs in my lane, and moved slowly ahead. There were tons of them everywhere! I finally got out to grab one directly in front of my car who wouldn't move. At first, I thought it was a leopard frog. He turned out to be a pickerel once I got close enough and picked him up. He was huge! Probably as big as the one who evaded capture at the lake earlier that day. Very healthy, and now very excited and not very appreciative I tried to help him cross the road, he squirmed and kicked. 

This blows.

I held on and looked at him in my headlights and was pleased that there was a healthy population of pickerel frogs around. I'd never seen such an abundance of amphibians on rain country road like that; I'd only ever read about them during an early spring shower at night. This turned out to be quite a memorable herping experience. I drove home with a smile on my face, even though my stomach was churning. I probably shouldn't have mixed that super market sushi with microwavable Jack Daniel's barbecue pulled pork for lunch...

Saturday, 9/21 count:

redback salamander: 4

pickerel frog: 10+

green frog: 6

gray treefrog: 2

"Everybody's Herpin' for the Weekend" or "Toadal Recall"

I'm currently sitting alone, bored at work, so I decided to shake the herping timeline I've been adhering to up a bit and throw a curve ball. I'm deviating from the timeline to talk about herping here at work. I like to live on the edge, I know. This one will be short(er) than the rest, as there's not much to tell.

BUT THAT WON'T MAKE IT ANY LESS ENTHRALLING!

I left my crappy job as IT Support at a bank in Philly to work at a data center in Norristown, PA. It's a good 20 minutes outside of the city, not counting traffic. This county (Montgomery) is actually where I hunt as well, so I know there are critters afoot! The shift is a night shift position, which means it sucks royal balls. However, that technically is prime herping time in the warmer weather. Although I don't get much free time while at work, I have managed to find some herpies (definitely need to come up with a better name for what I find) on the clock.

I started this job in the very beginning of September 2013, and some nights were still balmy and humid. The position I took when I first started required me to do hourly walkthroughs of the data center and facility, and in some cases, that meant I would be able to wander outside for a few minutes of fresh (sticky) air. My co-worker who trained me would take smoke breaks out back near the receiving/loading dock behind the building, so we would stand around back there and bullshit until he finished his cigarette. I, of course, much to his bewilderment, would be looking in the grass, in dark corners of the building, or just about anywhere for toads. Yes, toads. I had a feeling this place was loaded with my favorite herp (slightly better than "herpies" for a name) and I had a knack for finding them in the most precarious places. I've even found them around a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of South Philly. It's a gift. I AM THE MASTER AND COMMANDER OF TOADS.

Any old ways, my co-worker of course asked what I was doing. I told him flat out, and he told me that he does usually see them around outside. He also took smoke breaks out in front of the main building entrance, and he said there were HUGE ones around there. I was skeptical about the "hugeness" of the toads he claimed were milling around out front, even after my monster toad find near the Wissahickon. He even sized them up with his hand to show me how big the toads were. I wanted to see for myself. After a few days of searching, I found nothing. Was it already too late in the season? It wasn't cold, but it wasn't exactly toad-conducive weather. Then one night I kinda wasn't looking due to giving up, when I looked down and saw a small Fowler's toad (Anaxyrus fowleri) (...what? I'm trying to be studious by including the scientific name. Don't judge me.) I have caught tons of these little guys, but I was no less excited. My co-worker looked at me, confused at first, but then as I showed the toad to him, he was a little more interested. He also questioned how (moreover, WHY) I knew the exact species. I explained to him that I've always had an interest in them, and to stop fucking judging me, too. I snapped a picture (for just such an occasion as to showcase pointless herping stories online) and let him go into the grass near a tree stump. My faith in finding toads around work had been restored.

this was clearly an Instagram moment

The next night, something special happened. It was almost 90 degrees at night, hot, humid, and terribly uncomfortable. It was exponentially warmer than the previous few nights. I knew my luck would change. Out back on a walk-through cigarette break, in the very corner of the building sat another (and different) Fowler's toad. I picked it up and snapped another National Geographic worthy picture and put her ('twas a she) in my little traveling case that I keep in my trunk (I told you I was weird) and finished the walk-through. 

This is like the toad version of "Taken", except there's no toad-Liam Neeson to save me.

Afterwards, I went out to the main entrance parking lot to go put the tank back in the trunk and set my captive free, when I saw one: the mother of all toads. A large female American toad; she was enormous, just sitting in the parking lot, not really paying attention to anything. I mean, she was too big NOT to be lazy. I walked up to her and with little effort, scooped her up to inspect. It was another female, and she put up little resistance as I looked her over. I carried her in my hand, only to go a few more steps and see ANOTHER huge toad mama. Same deal for the most part, except this one was flatter and wider. She sat there, semi-gelatinous and doing an excellent Jabba the Hutt impression in the middle of the sidewalk. She could not have cared any less that I was approaching to snatch her up. She had no more fucks to give. Now I was juggling two softball-sized toads and an smaller one in a tank. Just as I made it to my car, there she was: the toad queen. Did I say the first one was the mother of all toads? Scratch that; THIS ONE was THE MOTHER OF ALL. Every toad I was finding got bigger and bigger and bigger. By the time I got to my car, I felt like I was carrying an armful of raw meat home from the butcher. I had toads for days. I was holding SO much toad at that moment. It was a herping miracle.

I certainly didn't expect to have such luck in one night. You would have thought I won a $1000 scratch-off ticket. After I placed them down, it was hard to keep them all stationary long enough to take another award-winning wildlife picture. They were surprisingly agile and nimble for fatty-fat fats....kinda like sumo wrestlers. I lined them up and took a picture displaying just how big these motherload toads were.

We're sexy and we know it.

The Fowler's toad on the right was maybe 3 inches. That goes to show you just how big these other slobbies were. The one on the far left, a.k.a. "Big Bertha" easily covered the palm of my hand with her toad rolls. The other two (from left to right), a.k.a. "Beulah" and "Maud" were almost as equally rotund. "Beulah" was the Jabba lookalike. I laughed at just how overly pudgy she was. She just plops herself down and gives in to gravity. I almost can hear her breathing heavily as she fights to catch her breath. They were all huge!

All fat jokes aside, these finds made me happy and kept me occupied on a boring, dragging night at work. Which is why I decided to revisit this evening's story. I'll definitely be exploring again for toads (and the like) once the weather breaks, and I've already planned on coming back out to Montgomery county on our hunting property on early spring nights to see what I can find. I'm getting excited just thinking about it.

Tuesday 9/10 & Wednesday 9/11 count:

Fowler's toad: 2
Eastern American toad: 3

P.S.: So you're interested in "gendering" American toads. How do I know how to do so, you ask? Well, hypothetical reader/literary device, I'm glad you asked. HOW I learned is trial and error, and reading way too many reptile and amphibian field guides growing up. So I learned from back then as a wee lad. It's fairly easy, and there are a number of ways to do it. First, the big three: throats, vocals, and forearms. Males usually have a dark or black colored throat, or at least a black patch on it. Females' throats are all white. Next is vocals. Females do not call at all (most toads actually "chirp"). If you see it call (it's throat/vocal sack will swell up as he does so), or it chirps when you pick it up and handle it, it's a male. Lastly, males usually have thick Popeye forearms with "nuptual" pads on their thumbs. These help the male grip the female when they're making pollywogs. So those are the rules of thumb. There are also some other ways to determine if your toad is a boy toad or a girl toad: females are typically bigger, fatter, and bumpier; males are typically smaller, slimmer, and smoother (this is why you need to moisturize and use the treadmill, ladies.) There you have it. Below is a video that is either considered toad foreplay, or a toad "how to pick up chicks" dating guide. Science! 

"Wissahickon Creek Capers" or "You won't find a thing!...just kidding..."

After my successful herping during spring gobbler season, I decided to actually try to go out one day on a "scheduled herping expedition", but where? Where could I find small aminals to temporarily and unintentionally torture without their consent? Where could I do so while striking the fear of their almighty creator into them in a Godzilla-like fashion? Not that I don't know where to find stuff, but I wanted to go somewhere I knew I'd find something different than what I normally find. I also wanted to stay local, and go somewhere I've never gone, and kinda/sorta had a shopping list in my head of things I wanted to find...and had no idea where I'd combine all of these factors and come up with a productive outing. I'm picky. 

So I figured I'd find a place that's nice to look at, not hard to traverse, and where I could find something on my list so I'd feel accomplished. Ya know, special and alive like when a butterfly lands on a kid from the short bus. So I did some research (read: lazily Google'd "Philadelphia herping" for 4 minutes total) on good spots unbeknownst to me, and then emailed my new herping friend (from my first blog entry) for suggestions. I told him my list of what I'm looking to find and asked if he knew of any places where I'd be sure to find what I'm looking for that weren't hours away. 

SIDENOTE: I found out (albeit kinda obvious) that herpers won't really divulge locations for specific species, and keep that ish on lockdown so people don't go in and clear out the aforementioned species. Granted, I wasn't looking for the extremely rare yellow-bellied sap sucker or the Kodiak marmoset, but I get it. I wouldn't want some yahoo coming in to one of my favorite spots and potentially harming the indigenous population either, or disturbing the peace in general. Plus herpers are greedy fucks. 

However, he told me to try a spot up on the mighty Wissahickon (Creek) called "Forbidden Drive" (spooky!) where I would find all that I was looking for. So it was set: The next free weekend I had would be a herping trip to the far-off and perilous lands of Forbidden Drive! Hurrah!

I had no idea where exactly I was going, and my GPS on my phone took me somewhere totally different than where I had put in for directions to, so after some finagling and rerouting, I took my GPS' suggestion on where it thought Forbidden Drive was. After almost getting lost, running out of gas, and not really knowing if this was going to be worth it, I arrived at a dead-end street on the edge of the woods. There was a huge colonial-looking white house with a giant mossy tree in the front yard, so that's where I parked. I put my boots on and walked to the very end of the road down a path that lead to a bike trail. Here I thought I was going to be all secluded and remote, when an older woman appeared around the corner of a tall stone wall walking her dog. So right off the bat I was totally wrong. I did ask if this was Forbidden Drive, and she said that indeed it was. I walked down to the bike trail, looked around, and thought that NOW I was among nature and secluded.

The last great frontier.

Then 20 college assholes, with backpacks presumably carrying Natty Ices, walked right around me. What the flippin' fuck? On the other side of the bike trail was a semi-steep hill, with no visible path, that lead down to another trail right next to a small creek that lead down to the Wissahickon. I fumbled my way down and got to the bottom. This is where the fun would begin...and NOW I was finally away from all those...oh look, a lone hiker awkwardly looking at me and kinda nodding as he passed. Oh well. Anyway, it was beautiful down there, and looked like a prime salamander spot.

Not pictured: college douchebags or creepy lone hikers

I went right in to the shallow, flat part of the stream that created a small pool about a foot or so deep and immediately started flipping rocks. I figured I'd find some duskies/redbacks/two-lined at least and be able to call it a successful day. After a few rocks, I found a two-lined salamander that would not cooperate and let me catch it, the fuck that he was. He escaped and eluded capture and went under another rock. I found him again, then, poof, gone in an instant. Saw a small crayfish milling around, but nothing after that. I got out of the creek, and saw something run into a hole under a huge boulder in the bank, almost instantly giving me a heart attack and causing me to slip and crack my face open on the slick rocks. As it turns out, it was a muskrat (only slightly less dangerous than the Kodiak marmoset). After that brush with death, I made my way down the path (which was extremely slippery from recent rainfall) flipping all of the stones we could possibly flip. Not one goddamn salamander. There were plenty of worms, though! I finally made it to yet ANOTHER path that crossed over the small stream, parallel to the Wissahickon. Now, take note of this pivotal point in the story: I flipped rocks all the way down to the edge of this new path and found nothing but earthworms. I walked myself down across the path to the bank of the creek, flipping more rocks. Nothing. I have to say, I was rather discouraged. I'd been out there for a while now and found next to jack balls nothing. I was happy to just be out there doing something in all of Mother Nature's public park grandeur, but still was still pissed as fuck that this spot was a dud. 

No sooner did I give up hope and was surveying the area, that two fine gentlemen stroll past me. One was shirtless, both smelled like booze, and I'm almost certain neither of them had all their teeth. Maybe combined they did. If my memory serves me correctly, the shirtless one had camo pants, and the other a haggard muscle shirt (sans muscles). They noticed my small transport/carrying tanks that I had brought just for kicks. "Whatcha catch?" one managed to formulate from his grizzled jowl. "Nothing yet," I responded. I said I was looking for salamanders, etc. He then informed me that there was a massive snapping turtle basking on the bank on the other side of the creek. He said I could see it from the path on our side. I thanked them, and they strolled on up the trail, presumably to go have intercourse with a farm animal. I figured "What the hell?" and made my way down the path where they had came from. I hadn't seen anything yet, so I figured it'd be cool to look at and talk about. After all, it was technically herping, even if someone else saw it first. I looked through the trees across the creek, looking for this behemoth turtle Jed and Chet (those are their alleged hillbilly names) informed me of. From the 5 or so minutes from when they probably saw it until they told me about it, it became a fish story. This thing could be seen from space, according to Jed's description. I walked down further, yet I don't recall seeing him. I noticed 3 rocks that were assembled to make a bench in the side of the hill on the path...ANOTHER PIVOTAL POINT IN THE STORY. We flipped some rocks and logs where I was SURE we'd find something, but nothing. I was pissed. These flack-jawed fucks either lied or the leviathan beast went back to the murky waters whence it came! At the bottom of the trail there was another paved path that lead up one way, and across a covered bridge that went across the creek to a long paved bike trail. I figured I'd rejoin civilized society momentarily (since I had been in the wilds, obviously) and walk across the covered bridge and on the bike path down towards the bank to look for this monster turtle. The bridge and the view were really pretty, but I wanted to see this friggin' turtle.

You shall not pass.

I veered off the bike path from tons of people staring at me in my enormous hunting boots and went on a trail right next to the bank. Again, pretty, but no turtle yet. Then behold! A large Chelydra serpentina just a' sittin' on the bank of the creek...

Watchin' the tiiiiide, roll awaaay...fuck, that didn't rhyme.

His shell was over a foot long, and he's just lying there catching some rays. I was very happy to get some up close (not too close) and personal time with this big guy. I'm actually not sure if it was a male or female, as I didn't want to disturb it. Coincidentally, a turtle find was on my list for the day, and this more than sufficed. I got a few more shots with my terrible camera on my Samsung phone as close as Terrance (that's his name now) would let me.

"Dude, stop being weird and get an iPhone like the rest of the world. GAWD!"

Strangely, it had been a few hours and it was getting late in the day. I decided to call it quits, having at least encountered something cool. I traversed back up the path, up the bike trail, over the bridge, through the woods, etc. On the main stretch back up, I was passing the rock bench again. I glanced down at it to find a FRIGGIN' HUUUGE American toad! I seriously couldn't believe it. There he was, just sitting in a little outcrop in the one "leg" of the stone bench. He didn't look like he was too elusive, so I reached my hand in and plucked him out.

I has a toad.

I have to admit, I was really excited. Now, I've caught literally countless toads, especially American toads, but this one was special. American toads (whom until I added that hyperlink, I was under the impression had the scientific name bufo americanus. Apparently I was wrong, or those scientist fucks changed it without consulting me) are a herp near and dear to me. First, it was on my herp wish list for this particular outing. I know they're abundant, and easy to find, and a cool "gateway" herp for beginners since they're easy to find and catch. Secondly, I haven't seen American toads around as much as I have in years prior, and never one this big in PA. The funny thing was, I wasn't even looking for anything, and definitely would have walked right by this one if not for chance. So I began inspecting my new friend. He was a she, and was plump and healthy; a fine specimen.

"Plump"?

I seriously was so happy over this big girl. I'm not a chubby chaser, unless it pertains to toads...and she was chuuuuuuuubby!

"Who you callin' chubby, you fat fuck?!"

I deemed the trip a success. Happy happy happy. I walked back up the path to the other path we started on near the creek. Remember earlier how I said it was a pivotal point how I flipped rocks all the way down to the edge of the path? Good. I hit that point again. I, still on my toad high, happened to look down and noticed something bright against the dark and dull muddy landscape. To my shock and amazement, there lie a northern red salamander! Just out in the open! I was there right in that spot and saw NOTHING under any rock or log, and now this thing is just sitting there, like "Hey, down here asshole!" My jaw dropped and I'm pretty sure I squealed with giddiness. I reached down for it, but I noticed it wasn't moving. It had expired. I was sad, to say the least. It didn't feel dried out, there was no physical wounds or anything on it, and he wasn't squashed. He was just kinda lying there, a little bloated. I couldn't figure it out. He was also out in the open, not under leaves or anything. It's like he just died mid stroll from under one rock to the next. The woods were wet from the aforementioned rainfall days before. I was stumped. I even sniffed him to see if he was dead long or not. Yes, I smelled a dead salamander. He was fresh. I was both puzzled and saddened for this find and loss! I did take a snapshot of him just to document:

We hardly knew ye.

As you can see, he was a nice size, and hadn't been dead long. So he was there and died within an hour of me being at that exact spot. I actually dug a little hole at the base of a small tree, buried him, and placed a small flat stone over his new grave site. After this expedition, I emailed my herp buddy and told him of my findings. He was surprised and excited to see a northern red "so far south", but also was puzzled about the cause of death. He said he usually attributes things like this to birds. Well, fuck you, birds! I also must admit, this kind of salamander find was also on my herp wishlist. So technically, my entire wishlist for the day had been fulfilled. I was ecstatic. It really was an awesome day for herping, all in all. It was so bizarre: I looked for hours and nothing; I give up, and within the 10 minutes of walking back to the car, I find all sorts of stuff without even trying to. Don't that beat all? That goes to show you that you never know what you're gonna find (or when or where or how), and that things happen when you least expect it. See? My blogs have morals to the story, and life lessons. You're welcome.

Saturday 6/8/13 count:

two-lined salamander: 1
common snapping turtle: 1
American toad: 1
northern red salamander: 1 (deceased)

"Gobbler Hunt Herping Hi-jinx" or "What the Eft?"

Hail, oh enthralled and engrossed reader! If you're reading this, a) you read the first blog entry enough to want more herping and tomfoolery from me, and b) you need to reevaluate your life choices in how you kill time at work surfing the web. The last entry was just an intro with some random facts and findings about my herping adventures. This one is an actual story/outing I had earlier this year in the Pocono mountains of Pennsylvania near my grandfather's old cabin. As I stated before, I am a hunter. That means, that with this particular hobby of mine, I spend a lot of time outdoors. This hobby makes it a perfect companion to one of my other hobbies: (obviously) herping! Hooray! It's usually the downtime in between the actual hunts that allows me to encounter the little herps (is "herp" a noun?) although there are exceptions to the rule. So without further ado, here's my awe-inspiring story of herping on the hunt:

It was late April...or was it early May? Anyways, it was the day before Opening Day of Spring Gobbler season. Spring Gobbler season started in May this year according to my Google search just now. I strive to bring my audience the facts. It was relatively warm and it had rained very recently. My father, grandfather and I arrived up the Poconos mid-afternoon. We checked in to the hotel (unfortunately, we do not own my other grandfather's cabin due to some fuckstick of an uncle, but I digress), and prepared to go out to roost us a turkey! For those of you who have never seen a live/wild turkey, don't watch the Discovery Channel, or are stupid, turkeys can fly. They also scare easily and are almost as weary as they are dumb. However, they are smart enough to not want to sleep on the ground at night. So they sleep in trees, thus protecting themselves from predators like foxes and coyotes, unless said predators can scale vertical surfaces like Batman and/or Spider-Man.

Side note: It baffles me how many people that live out in the sticks have no fucking clue turkeys can fly. That'd be like city folk saying "Oh, I totally didn't know that squirrels can climb trees, or that hobos will eat anything!"

"Roosting" is when a hunter goes out around dusk, makes turkey sounds, and tries to locate the general whereabouts of a turkey (the gobbler in this case) for the next morning. Sure, it's stalker-ish, but as is all hunting. We tried to locate a big ol' Tom turkey so that we knew about where he was going to roost so we can show up the next day and shoot him in the face when he rolls out of bed. Simple.

No sooner did we get out of the car did I begin my herping antics. I can't help myself! We parked near my grandfather's (former) cabin, and I immediately began searching places I've searched since I was a wee lad, places I had found stuff before. At first, no such luck. Then I lifted a metal plate that covers a well drain (I think. I'm not a plumber) and lo! a juvenile pickerel frog sat at the bottom, about 3 feet down. I was delighted. I haven't seen them around as frequently (and the increasingly more elusive northern leopard frogs and wood frogs I've previously been accustomed to catch or see every year). He seemed like he was stuck, even though he clearly was there on his own free-froggy-will. The drain pipe was high enough that I knew he couldn't get out, so I tried reaching down to grab him, but alas, my short hobbit arms were no match for a yard's worth of space. It actually was pretty deep, but I wasn't going to let my new bestest friend ever be doomed to a dark, damp, bug-ridden prison...although he may have preferred that in retrospect. I didn't think that one through. ANYWHO... As my fore-bearers walked up the road, I tried desperately to reach him. After a few failed attempts and being yelled at to grow the fuck up, I had a great idea (at the time). I found two relatively even branches on the ground and used them to fish him out with what can only be described as Neanderthal chopsticks. Patent pending. I finally grabbed the little fella with the sticks like a web-footed dragon roll and put him in a small plastic tank that I (of course) took with me to turkey hunt. He was a little dry, so I scooped some water from a puddle into the tank. After some inspection and walking our way up the mountain, I decided to release him in the creek that runs down it. I bid my new friend farewell and snapped a picture, thus officially chronicling a herping trip.

We hardly knew ye.

We made our way up the mountain more, and I casually flipped some small, flat stones alongside the creek. After only a few, I came across a red-backed salamander, which I've literally found hundreds of in the past. I WILL be taking pictures of all that I find, even these common little guys, no matter how many reds I find!

Get used to this face.

The more we ventured up the mountain, the less I flipped rocks and worried about keeping my footing on the slippery, mossy terrain. We were keeping close to the creek under the cover of some old hemlock trees. As we walked and called, I looked down, and to my surprise and delight, I found something I haven't seen up there in a very long while: a red eft!

Surprise, muthafucka!

It wasn't like I hadn't seen one before. I literally used to try to carry pockets full of these guys when I was young, walking around on turkey hunts with my family. They'd always climb out, but I kept stuffing more in. I of course released any that I managed to keep secure through the hunt, much to my dismay, and by order of my father. (He taught me very early on to not take little guys like the efts out of nature and to put everything back where you found it. I only listened sometimes, but thanks anyway, dad!) But I haven't seen them around in years. I've seen red-spotted/eastern newts all the time, but not the efts. As I'm sure ALL of you know, red efts are the juvenile, terrestrial land-stage of the eastern or red-spotted newt. The larva (which look exactly like the adults, but with gills) start out in the water, lose their gills, then go up on land for a few years as efts, then go back into the water as adults. It's the circle...

...the circle of life.

I quickly scooped this little guy up and inspected him. It's actually kinda sad and weird how happy I was to find him. After a few minutes and a mini photo shoot (as seen above), I put him back off the path and resumed the roost attempt. Except that now, I was on high alert for efts. I didn't realize it at the time, but finding that one little guy would be finding the first of many over the course of a few days. I very shortly afterwards found another (which I didn't take a picture of) to equal excitement as the first. Then the more I walked, the more I found. I was in herping heaven. The following shots were all taken before I picked them up to look at, no matter how staged they look. So eft you if you don't believe me...GET IT?!?!

This shot is magazine worthy.

...and another.

You get the idea.

Totes adorbs.

Every side is my good side.

After the eftsplosion, I concentrated (finally) on roosting a turkey. I couldn't help but flip one last rock, just to see, and I of course found one more red-back salamander.

I told you to get used to this face.

Believe it or not, in between all the amphibians I was coming across, we actually managed to roost a turkey. As a matter of fact, it was my calling that did it. We had split up: my father went up the mountain further, my grandfather and I went back down and all the way up the road. We called, I heard a gobbler respond, and quickly got almost as excited as I was for my eft encounters. My grandfather couldn't hear it, as it was about 60 yards away, and he needs a goddamn cornucopia ear-horn to hear. We went back to the car and rested for the hunt the next morning. 

Sunday 4/28 count:

pickerel frog: 1

red eft: 7

red-backed salamander: 2

The first day of the actual hunt was a good one. We got into the woods at a decent time; the sun really hadn't come up yet. We went down to where I heard the gobbler the night before and figured out our gameplan. Before we even got a chance to call or set up, or even really discuss it, the gobbler started calling from the tree. He was definitely hot to trot. That man-whore. We quickly came up with a strategy and set ourselves up. After about an hour of action, a second gobbler calling from a different location, and other signs we'd bag a turkey, the bastards walked away from the decoys and us, continuing to call as if to mock us. We walked around in the woods til almost noon, and called it quits. No luck on this day. We packed up and went back to the hotel to nap, then repeat our agenda from last night.

We came back out around 5, but it has started to rain. Great for springtime herping, not so great for turkey hunting. Most non-amphibious wildlife doesn't like the rain as much as we don't. They can't hear potential dangers as well, and their hair gets absolutely ruined! It didn't look like we'd have any luck tonight, or the next day for that matter, but we went out anyway, hoping for the best. At least I might be able to find some more critters with this crappy weather. We walked up the road and started calling, working our way back down towards to cabin.

I'm going to start selling my pictures to Target so they can sell it as "wall art"

My father decided it'd be a good idea to split up again. He would go all the way down the road with my grandfather, and I would go up alongside the creek like we had originally done the night before. I must admit, I wasn't very hopeful for finding anything, turkey or otherwise. It was chilly and miserable, and getting dark more quickly than it would normally. I began making calls halfheartedly, and figured this would be a perfect time to flip some rocks and screw around. With no luck for a long while with turkeys or salamanders, I continued to call every few minutes or every few rocks. As soon as I was barely paying attention to either, I came across two plethodon glutinosi...oh, I meant two slimy salamanders. Duh. And yes, that is their actual name. I've never came across one of these before, let alone two, so I was excited to inspect and photograph them. The smaller of the two quickly darted in a hole in between smaller rocks from under the bigger one I lifted. The larger was almost as fast, but I pulled some rocks aside to grab him.

Victory!

It wasn't the first time I've driven my hand into a tight, wet space...to catch a salamander, that is. When I was about 10 or so, up around that same spot, a midst catching a bucket full of red-backs, I lifted a large rock that was settled deep in the soil. From under the rock popped a small head which looked like an orange snake. It "slithered" back under more rocks and dirt, so I plunged my small hand into the hole, determined to pull out whatever it was. Smart move, I know. I was always I thinker. Turns out it was a huge northern red salamander. This thing was like 6-7 inches long. I wish I took a picture of it, but this was before the days of having everything right in your pocket via shitty/outdated Samsung smartphone.

The flash on my phone camera apparently makes it look like midnight at 7PM.

So this little guy was my first slimy. It was good to see some diversity up there, and it was promising that I saw not one, but two of these guys huddled together. I always see red-backs, and as fun as it is to find them, I like having a smorgasbord of salamander species. How's THAT for alliteration? 

He's super photogenic. I named him Sméagol.

After I did my best to put all the rocks back in place and release him, I started finding MORE efts. These guys were all bunched up.

This is Hawk & Animal, the Legion of Doom.

Then I found this picturesque scene at the base of a tree:

The Dude, Walter, and Donny

The funny thing was: I was barely paying attention at all anymore and only calling every few minutes, and boom, a gobbler responded out of nowhere (the same gobbler from the day before). I couldn't believe the overall luck I was having. I found a new species (to me) and re-roosted a turkey. It turned out to be a successful day overall. The next morning, we had the same luck as before: a jerkoff turkey just out of reach. I also found like a ton more efts walking through the damp woods, too many to count or document. They were even on the road pictured above. So spring gobbler hunting 2013 = awesome. Even though we didn't shoot a turkey in the face, I had a great time with my father and grandfather, found a bunch of amphibians, and got to relax up the mountains.

Monday 4/29 & Tuesday 4/30 count:

slimy salamander: 2

red eft: 10+