Puppy of Mud. 9-21-2018

Every Fall, a canal in Franklin County, Massachusetts gets drawn down for power station and wall maintenance. We'd been told by DCR rangers in the past that it is the best time to see a rare Massachusetts salamander, the Common Mudpuppy. They live in the Connecticut River and its tributaries and wind up in the canal as well. Thank to a heads up from our friend Mike Z, we heard of this year's draw down and we both took that Friday off from work to try our luck.

The draw down was on Monday and here, four days later, we weren't sure of our chances. But we were there and the canal was indeed drawn down.


We were shown a map by a helpful DCR ranger where we would be likely to get down into the canal and "get muddy". Whether it was completely legal to do so, she didn't say but she gave us her blessings. We walked a mile and a half along the nearly empty canal, peering over the fence saying "that spot looks good". We saw a few black squirrels along the way.

Like the amphibians we sought, this color morph of the Gray Squirrel is easy to see up here due to an introduction into the area in the 1940s. Some black squirrels from Michigan were given to a local man who later released them to see how they'd do. They did well and can be see throughout Franklin County with ease. (Variations on this story exist. At any rate, they are here.)

We neared the end and found the spot we wanted to explore. A bridge of rock jutted up between two deep spots. We headed in.


The flipping was pretty tough (and I still feel it in the backs of my legs 2 days later). We saw many crayfish, who all gave us heart attacks! ("Is that one??") We checked in the tide-pool-like puddles among the rocks.


Local waterfowl were enjoying the easy pickin's.


The master at work.


Some fat dude striking out.


From quite a distance, I thought I'd heard Andrea yell "Dookie"! That is our loving name for Northern Dusky Salamanders. I though it was odd, but not impossible to see one there so I started running across the rocks towards her. She yelled again. I heard it more clearly... "Got one!" I raced to her, and she said "slow down. It's not going anywhere... there's his head peeking out from a rock."

She'd done it. Our lifer Common Mudpuppy. She lifted the rest of the rock to reveal this.

I hadn't expected to see such a large animal. 7 inches, easily. This is my size 12 hand next to it.


Of course, to replace the rock, we had to move the animal. Mudpuppies are rare, yes, but introduced, so I had no qualms about handling it to replace the rock. Except picking it up was like trying to pick up a wiggling bar of soap in the shower. I finally got it in hand and we replaced the rock and released the salamander.

Mudpuppies, who are fully aquatic, have been in these waters for over 100 years but likely were introduced by a local school who had been using them as science animals. Leftover Mudpuppies were probably dumped into a local water source and they found it to their liking. It is thought that they represent no threat to native wildlife and I, for one, applaud their tenacity and adaptability.

This puddle...

and this woman...

had brought a Mudpuppy into my life. I thank them both. (Though I didn't buy the puddle dinner. Andrea had earned it with the triple crown... First of Year, Lifer, and new species for Massachusetts. Only Bog Turtles remain. So, we're done.)

I found a freshwater eel.


After talking for a while with the people at the center (and thanking the ranger profusely) we headed over to our biggest nemesis place, which was only a few miles away. Box Turtles and Hognose Snakes are present but in the many years of hiking there, we'd only seen one Hog, no Boxies. You can't rely on anything there but we have also seen Garters, Racers, Ringnecks and a few amphibians there. We weaved through the access road's deep puddles to get in and saw a hunter there, getting ready to head into the woods. Armed and no doubt trigger-happy, he said it was squirrel and bear season. We tried to make our hike quick and to the point.

The place has recovered from a major burning and cutting from a couple of years ago, which is nice. Our Hog and Box spots (suspected spots, that is) were empty but we saw some nice Redbacks.

Dark chocolate!


A small American Toad, safe from the clutches of a non-existent Hognose.


Before getting back into the car after this quick hour and a half hike, we flipped another pair of cinerus.

We enjoyed our time in this place, even as it kicked our butts, but never felt completely comfortable as we heard distant gunshots.

Before getting dinner and checking into our motel (we were staying overnight in preparation for the next blog post), we hit one last spot. I practically had to bribe Andrea with Efts to get her interested. She was toast by now and I was too stubborn to admit that I was, as well. But one last quick hike, since we were there, please.

Andrea supplemented her mood a bit and when we reached a grassy area, she was having a great time with all of the Pickerel Frogs bounding about. I photographed two of the hopping entertainers.



The second act, further along in the same spot... the Eft circus.



Some gorgeous Redbacks... a chocolate and a speckled leadback.



I checked out a dribbly stream that usually trickles down a hill. With the rain that went through the other day, it was a bit more rapid that I'm used to and finding a salamander was tricky. I saw one Two-line but it slipped away. This wee all-noggin Pickerel threw me a bone.


We trekked further in than I had expected to, but our conviction paid off when we hit the water-logged hill trail. First, a bright red Redback.


Then, a golden Two-lined Salamander.


Then, we ended the day with our favorites, a Dookie; the Northern Dusky Salamander.

This chubbasaurus looks like it should be called a Mudpuppy. Mud with eyes.

And that was our Friday. No work, Lifer and plenty of good amphibians. We got dinner, showered and went to bed before 9 PM. I'm tired just remembering how exhausted we were. We had to be up early to lead our group at the 2018 Westfield River Bio-Blitz the next morning so... lights out.