team googly eyes
on homewood's yellow spotted salamanders
I am partial to amphibians.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I like to swim. When it’s warm outside I will find any excuse to be submerged in water. It could be a swimming pool, floating down the river, or holding a running water hose in the backyard while I read a book in a fold out chair. I like the sun prickling on my shoulders and the relief of ice cold droplets. When the clouds turn grey and the bottom falls out I feel most like myself.
Last weekend I got to meet many of my fellow water partial creatures at the Salamander Festival. Each year the Friends of Shades Creek host their annual celebration at Homewood High School. Experts, enthusiasts and fans of these little googly eyed creatures gather in the gymnasium to learn about Alabama salamanders and to explore the mating pools behind the high school. The star of the show is the spotted salamander
The spotted salamander (below, right) lives behind the high school. On a damp cool night in late January or early February the salamanders come out from their earthly hiding spots and descend upon the mating pools. The males arrive early, making sure they look their best before the ladies meet them. The males show off their dancing skills, showing the females that they’re the best option in the pool. See their dance here, a ballroom of leaves and water that hurries the coming of spring.
Adult spotted salamanders have sticky tongues, perfect to catch earthworms, spiders, snails, and other small creatures that live on the forest floor. Their long dark bodies are littered with pollen yellow spots.
The salamander I got to hold (above) recognized me as a friend, a kindred creature. She took her webbed feet and began to climb up my damp hand, making her way to my wrist before I sprinkled my upper arm with cool water. Her handler, a student at Samford, would pick her up and place her back into my hand only for her climb to begin again. I became terrified she would lose balance and fall off, so I said farewell and gifted her to the child behind me in line.
At the festival organizers also include art activities and dancing performances of their own. The dancers channeled their inner salamander, their black outfits stitched with yellow spots swayed for all to see.
If you’ve made it this far in this week’s letter you may be wondering how this counts as touching grass as we were in a gym. Don’t worry—I did in fact do the group hike out to see the mating pools. The hike is only about a mile but there are parts that are quite steep as we edged to the top of the hill. My mother, the frequent hiker said, “I thought you told me this wasn’t strenuous.”
To which I replied, “No I did not, I said I don’t *think* it’s that strenuous. Two different things.”
I am hoping that there is a rainy night soon where I might wake up and go in search of salamanders. My river companions are eager to see this ritual. I feel as though we often find ourselves in search of the next great wonder, that even though we are not scientists or trained naturalists we still have this yearning to be observers and protectors.
Happy touchgrassfriday y’all, there’s more to come soon.
Also:
Do you love fiber arts? Do you love national parks? Here’s a kit on how to make your very own National Park themed toboggan!
A fighting chance for Tennessee’s Berry Cave salamander | Southern Environmental Law Center
Photos of some Hellbender’s in the Smokies and Hellbenders who weren’t able to escape Helene. | Knox News