Newts on the move

We're under the oaks. Drips from last night's rain are filtering down from the canopy, soaking into the leaf litter. The forest floor is a mosaic of browns, oranges, and greens—oak leaves, bay leaves, acorns, lichen-covered sticks, patches of mud. We're looking for a particular orange—the creamy light-orange of chanterelles. They are late to come up this year. The series of weak storm systems we've had makes the forest floor look wet enough, but it seems we haven't had quite the necessary soaking yet. Something catches my eye, a darker, rusty orange. And it's moving. A rough-skinned newt deliberately lifts one front leg, and the back leg on the opposite side. It negotiates over a stick. I see a flash of bright orange as its belly shows. I hunker down. I watch the newt slowly make its way downhill.

Each winter, rough-skinned newts (and their close relatives, California newts) migrate to ponds and pools to reproduce. Scientists aren't exactly sure how the newts navigate, but it seems they use a combination of smells, sights, and following slopes downhill.  A newt can travel about half a mile in five days. Walking to my mushroom spot, I cross a small muddy stream that only appears in the winter. Perhaps the newt I saw was headed to a pool in this stream.

The newt's bright orange belly is a signal to possible predators of the powerful toxin in the newt. A single rough-skinned newt has enough toxin to kill several adult humans. This trait developed through co-evolution with the garter snake, the rough-skinned newt's only predator. As rough skinned newts evolved ever stronger levels of toxin, garter snakes developed ever greater capacity to withstand the toxin.

A somewhat more distant relative, also found in our area is the California slender salamander. I find these by looking under rotting logs. You might at first mistake this salamander for a worm. Then you notice the bug-eyed old man face, and the limbs, thin as angel hair pasta. These salamanders also have a seasonal rhythm. In the dry months they burrow under ground and become dormant. With enough rain they emerge, searching for insects in underground tunnels, below rotting logs, and in the leaf litter. While the rough skinned and California newts undertake epic (for their size and speed) journeys, a California slender salamander stays put. Most individuals never leave an area of about two meters.

Ensatina is another local species that lives its life in a small area. These can also be found under rotting logs.

Newts and salamanders highlight for me the different scales of our shared world. It takes a newt days to clamber down to its breeding pool—the longest walk of its life. I walk the distance in minutes. My home in the flats is like a distant galaxy for the newt. The newt experiences details of the forest floor that I pass right over: the contours that lead rainwater to filter down to a muddy pool, the routes over or under a fallen log. And what details and intricacies a slender salamander must know of its two-meter world!

(We did eventually find the first few chanterelles of the season!)

More information about newts and salamanders from Amphibiaweb:

• Rough-skinned newt
• California newt
• California slender salamander
• Ensatina

Places to see newts and salamanders:

• UC Berkeley Botanical Garden (The pond in the Japanese garden is a great place to see mating newts)
• Tilden Park (They close South Park Road for the season to keep migrating newts safe!)