One late December afternoon I had an idea. I wanted to see a specialized salamander that is not a particularly easy one to come by in Florida. The salamander, Pseudotriton montanus floridanus, or the Rusty Mud Salamander. I emailed Dick Bartlett and explained to him my dilemma; I know what the salamander is, but I don't know where to see said salamander. He explained that nowadays we'd have to go to the Eastern part of the Florida panhandle to have a realistic chance of finding one. There used to be populations along the upper Santa Fe and Ocklawaha Rivers, both of which are closer to Gainesville. Even closer, a small stream that runs through the University of Florida where the type locality was collected. I've flipped more logs and debris along this stream than I care to share. Drought, or human encroachment, may have played a role in their disappearance from this region of Florida. Whatever the case may be, I now have to drive roughly three hours to where they now reside.
Rusty Mud Salamander habitat.
We left the following Saturday morning. In North Florida temperatures can be cold, even bitterly cold, this time of year. That morning it was in the mid 20 degree Fahrenheit range and the expected high temperature was to reach a balmy 46 degrees Fahrenheit. We decided to make a side trip to look for white squirrels so as to let it warm-up to a tolerable temperature. They were not too far off from our salamandery destination but for some reason it took us the better part of the day to find and photograph. The people that resided in the RV Park were a bit amused to see two grown men running around with cameras trying to photograph squirrels. We finally acquired the pictures we desired and got out of there before the locals changed their mood from amused to annoyed.
By the time we arrived at the mud salamander locale, the sun was flirting with the western horizon and the temperatures were layer-worthy. We grabbed the flashlights and headed down into the ravine and into the floodplain swamp. We followed a sluggish stream upward until we were in an area where several seeps flowed from the hillside and gathered into several shallow, muddy pools. We flipped hundreds of logs, and when desperate, small logs that more resembled sticks. We were able to find a lot of bycatch. The most abundant were Apalachicola Dusky Salamanders (Desmognathus apalachicolae). They gave our hearts enough of a jolt to keep us going longer than we probably should have. We also turned up several Three-lined Salamanders (Eurycea guttolineata), numerous Southern Two-lined Salamanders (Eurycea cirrigera), a few Southern Slimy Salamanders (Plethodon grobmani) and a couple Marbled Salamanders (Ambystoma opacum). We had walked for about an hour and the sun had long since set. Now the temperatures were nearing the freezing mark and we needed to walk back to the car. Our fingertips and toes now lacked feeling and the onset of shivering was imminent. Getting to the car was an internally joyous occasion since our outward emotions were suppressed by the biting cold. Now it was time for full-blast heat.
Three-lined Salamanders (Eurycea guttolineata)
Marbled Salamanders (Ambystoma opacum)
We decided to get a hotel for the night so we could thaw-out and maybe try again in the morning. The hotel was actually quite full for a random night in the middle of no where. The parking lot was filled with big, dirty pickup trucks. Most of which had dog cages in the beds. It was the middle of hunting season, and the hotel clerk said we were lucky that he had a room left. Besides the occasional dog barking, the night was filled with warmth and sleep.
We woke up the next morning and had partially forgotten just how cold it was that night. I opened the door and was bludgeoned in the face by a cold I thought only existed in the Arctic Circle. I shut the door. That night the lows had dipped into the teens. We actually had to unsheathe a credit card and chisel the ice from the windshield. I think I was wearing everything I brought, which was barely enough to keep the stinging cold from my skin.
We ate a prolonged breakfast at a restaurant full of men clothed in orange and camo. Each telling a story of the prior day's sightings and happenings. In many aspects, we did not fit in. We thought maybe the temperature had risen during our slow-paced overindulgence of eggs, pancakes and other less healthy choices. We were wrong, but that wasn't going to stop us. We arrived back at the location and headed back to the seeps. Some of the water had ice on the surface and some of the logs were frozen into the mud. This seemed futile, but we marched-on and further than the night before. We saw most of the same species of salamanders (maybe even the same individuals) as the prior night. After several hours of searching we decided to make our way back to the car. Our pace back was quicker because we craved that comforting heat and we weren't flipping everything in sight. About 100 yards from the car we came to a log that had obviously not been moved. It was a big rotten log that I had initially passed-by because it appeared too heavy to move. Dick then says "why don't we flip that log?" I say "well, it's ginormous and I don't think we can." He says "lets just try." We grab apposing sides and begin to flip. It was much easier than I thought and when it was removed from its cradle, I saw movement. It was a Three-lined Salamander. Out of the corner of my eye I catch more movement. I see the brick red pigment on this salamander and knew immediately what I was looking at; my lifer Rusty Mud Salamander. I grabbed it so quick that Dick didn't have a chance to see what it was and didn't believe me until I opened my hand. This time, the cold could not censor my elation.
Rusty Mud Salamander (Pseudotriton montanus floridanus)