Before me, they tower — cascading hillsides of dense wilderness seemingly ascending into the stratosphere. Although I’m no stranger to this expanse of forest, the erratic, practically nonexistent footpath remains an obstacle with which to contend. To make matters worse, the terrain conceals numerous man-made perils, and houses a substantial concentration of poison ivy (Rhus radicans) — a plant whose allergenic properties are well-documented. So, after carefully assessing the surroundings (lest I lose my bearings in a moment of adrenaline-feuled excitement), I decided to throw caution to the wind and initiate the exploration.
Redback Salamander
Truth be told, I focused the majority of my investigation atop a plateau no more than five minutes into the hike. Not surprisingly, I discovered the Redback Salamander (Plethodon cinereus), which is one species of terrestrial amphibian common to the eastern sector of North America. As is true of most diminutive fauna, a plethodontid’s conservational standing (or lack thereof) has a critical impact on the biomass of ecosystems throughout their range. To the delicate balance of predator and prey, they’re neither the apex nor the bedrock, but a pivotal piece of what binds both extremes.
"Leadback" Coloration of the Redback
These lungless ground-dwellers undergo two stages of pigmentation: the characteristic rust-colored stripe from which their cognomen is derived, and the grayish phase known as “leadback” — the morph that many believe is goaded by drastic increases in temperature. Having secured a pair of post-hatchling neophytes, I can only assume they’re born sporting this irregular tinge. Ahem … a speckled underbelly consummates the redback salamander’s unique complexion.
Close-up of the "Leadback" Morph
Unlike the twofold makeup of their amphibious kin, redbacks hatch as miniature replicas of the adult counterparts (that is, they don’t traverse an aquatic, larval form). Upon emergence, the young are independent of their matriarch — unless permitted to forage in her territory due to stressfully arid conditions. In the wake of a birthing, this is the extent of a mother’s tolerance towards her brood. Regardless of gender, visual intimidation is utilized to defend feeding soil from unrelated individuals and unwelcome interlopers alike. In propitious moisture, redbacks consume sizable quantities of invertebrates (insects, spiders, centipedes, snails, and earthworms) — seizing them with a swift thrust of the tongue.
Whilst inspecting various heaps of leaf litter, I happened across this quiescent creature — the humble, albeit otherworldly, snail (presumably of the Cantareus, Helix genus). Desiring a closer look, I quickly scooped up the aestivating gastropod, who promptly awoke to probe the disturbance. A curious collection of organs and extremities, the anatomy of a snail is inexplicably fictitious in appearance. Most notable are the ommatophores — pinhead-shaped eyes affixed to a set of lengthy, invaginable antennae. Employed in conjunction with the olfactory nodules, these tentacles assist snails in the navigation of their environment.
Occuring by manner of the foot, a successive series of muscular flexions — aided by the production of friction-diminishing mucus — propels these hermaphroditic critters. Frigid to the touch, this lubricating secretion is approximately 95% water and requires 70% of a snail’s nutritional intake to generate. Since helicids routinely use their specialized phlegm for self-preservation, the metabolically expensive process is worth its weight in gold. In fact, outside the typical act of sealing their shell’s aperture, snails have been observed erecting barriers of bubbling spittle in hopes of avoiding certain death from predation.
