Temperate Rainforest Salamanders

Recently I turned 26 years old. There is nothing particularly exciting about this milestone, so I winged it. To celebrate my birthday I went on a solo camping trip! Sounds sad and lonely, right? Guess again. Like so many people, I have done a terrible job of exploring my home state, Oregon. Getting older seemed as good an excuse as any to check out the little notch that is Oregon's northwest corner.

Temperate rainforest in the Pacific Northwest
(www.groundtruthtrekking.org)

You may not be aware of this, but Oregon is one of the world's major hotbeds for salamander diversity. In Deschutes County I grew up ignorant of this fact, with one single salamander species present. Just west of the Cascade Mountains the salamander count increases dramatically. The Roughskin Newt (Taricha granulosa), which I studied in college, is one of many species found in the Willamette Valley. But the valley is only the beginning. Even further west, Oregon's Coast Range is the real place to go for salamanders. This area receives a tremendous amount of rainfall, and is thus called a temperate rainforest.

With salamanders, frogs, hiking trails, and beer in mind, I decided to camp at Saddle Mountain State Park for the weekend. From the highway the road to camp was a mixture of sharp turns, potholes, and ambling newts. Before my first hike I was sure this weekend would be a success. The remainder of my time involved brisk hiking, driving, and more hiking. Below are the highlights...

My first afternoon/evening I took the trail up Saddle Mountain. It was a little chilly and damp from the get-go, which is pretty standard for a temperate rainforest in October. The trail was steep and muddy to the point that trail crews had secured chain link fencing flat on the path. This held the rocks in place and gave me traction as I went. Going up, the cold air became thicker with moisture, almost like I was inhaling rain clouds. I soon reached a so-called viewpoint, only to see an opaque white abyss before me. Nearby was the faint hint of some trees. I was brought back to my first cloud forest hike in Ecuador (see Otavalo and Quilotoa post). That Ecuador and Oregon could be comparable in any way was a surprising realization. I should mention that for the entire hike I was carefully scanning the ground, as usual. I do this to avoid tripping and to find animals (of course). Far up the trail I spotted a little snake crossing stealthily. Not more than five steps later I encountered a small rocky outcrop below a gentle trickle of water. I did some customary rock flipping and quickly spotted a little salamander perched precariously over a crevice! I quickly jabbed my free hand down and snatched it before it dropped. WOOHOO! I immediately knew I had found a Columbia Torrent Salamander! They are only found in the thin strip of temperate rainforest in the Pacific Northwest. Their Family, Rhyacotritonidae, includes just four species altogether. My primary goal for the trip was to find just one. What a find! And on the first day! I hustled the rest of the way up Saddle Mountain, battling strong wind and terrible visibility. When I reached the top I was once again confronted with total white-out in all directions. The wind picked up noticeably. I sat on a sturdy bench to somewhat shield myself from the gusts. It quickly registered that my clothes were soaked through by the moist air. It was then that I decided to head down. But when I stood up I could hardly believe my eyes! The clouds were streaming by me rapidly, providing brief glimpses of an incredible view. Down below were partially shrouded patches of forest, giving way to the mouth of the Columbia River on the horizon. The sun was setting as I watched in awe. Like any normal person I pretended I was Mickey Mouse during his dream in the movie Fantasia (start video below at 3:40). The whole scene was too astounding to walk away from, at least until it started getting dark.

Columbia Torrent Salamander (Rhyacotriton kezeri)

Above the clouds!

Temperate Rainforest

The second day, which was my actual birthday, was mostly a hiking day. I hiked along creeks and streams all morning and evening, with a proper beer break at the Fort George Brewery in Astoria. On my hikes I got the full temperate rainforest experience: mossy everything, impressive trees, and heavy rainfall. I spotted another torrent salamander, this time on a rock island in a creek. As I approached I watched it throw itself into the torrent, just as the guidebooks described. I also found an area where salamanders were literally popping out of the ground! Oregon Ensatinas (Ensatina eschscholtzii oregonensis) and Western Red-backed Salamanders (Plethodon vehiculum) were in great abundance. When it came time to equip a headlamp another one of my major targets for the weekend revealed itself: a Coastal Tailed Frog (Ascaphus truei).  Much like torrent salamanders, tailed frogs are only found in the Pacific Northwest, and there are just a couple species in their Family, Ascaphidae. They got their name from the presence of  a "tail" on the males. If you have much familiarity with frog mating mechanics you probably understand that the typical procedure is as follows: male and female embrace in amplexus, female releases eggs, and male fertilizes them. This is called external fertilization. Tailed frogs are unique because their fertilization is internal, which is why males have a tail-like appendage. These frogs breed in fast-moving streams where violent currents make external fertilization impossible to achieve. I found both a male and female tailed frog on my hike, allowing me to cross yet another major goal off my list for the weekend!

The drive back to the campground that evening proved equally fruitful. The Red-legged Frogs (Rana aurora) were bounding across the road, and little Western Red-backed and Dunn's Salamanders (Plethodon dunni) were meandering their way across as well. Just before I reached the campground I saw something a little different in my headlights: awkward thrashing movements and the flick of a long tail. I assumed it would be a newt, but I was very wrong. In fact, it turned out to be a Northwestern Salamander (Ambystoma gracile), one of the last things I had hoped to find! They belong to the Family Ambystomatidae with tiger salamanders, among others. The super cool thing about these guys are that they have extremely apparent poison glands, called parotoid glands (not parotid glands, which produce saliva in humans). The primary parotoid glands are located behind the head, much like in toads, but are also found less densely on the body and tail. I had never seen a salamander like this, and because my birthday was 30 minutes from its conclusion I spent a lot of time observing this beast. Just to clarify, this was a poisonous salamander, not a venomous one. It literally could not do anything to hurt me, unless I had been dumb enough to eat it. Anyway, my birthday ended on a very happy note! I was extremely fortunate to be able to make this trip at all, let alone cross so many amazing things off my list. I never did see the top priority on my list: the Pacific Giant Salamander. Another trip is in order, maybe for my 27th birthday!

THE ULTIMATE: Northwestern Salamander (Ambystoma gracile)

Thanks so much for reading this blog post! If nothing else I hope you take away these two things: 1) Amphibians are crazy cool; and 2) Great adventures do not always require a plane ticket. I promise no animals were harmed during this adventure. Here are some more pictures...

Northwestern Garter Snake (Thamnophis ordinoides)

Visibility was not great on Saddle Mountain.

Pretty amazing view, right?! This is from atop Saddle Mountain.

Mouth of the Columbia River straight ahead, from Saddle Mountain summit.

Red-legged Frog (Rana aurora)

Western Red-backed Salamander (Plethodon vehiculum)

The moss mouse!

Another torrent salamander. Definitely the cutest of the salamanders.

Oregon Ensatina (Ensatina eschscholtzii oregonensis)

Coastal Tailed Frog (Ascaphus truei)

My final torrent salamander.

Astoria and the mouth of the Columbia River

Mornings with Lizards

If you read my last blog post you might remember my excitement about a job in Ecuador. Well, due to some funding issues on their end that job has been put on hold indefinitely. When it fell through I wasted zero time determining my next move. I mean, I had been spending my time applying for jobs and playing pickup basketball 4 hours per day in Tallahassee. I needed an income. On the job boards I quickly found and applied for another crew leader position. I ended up getting offered the job a few days later. Such a quick and successful employment search proved that luck was in fact on my side. I left Tallahassee shortly thereafter to start yet another field job, this time in Imperial County, CA.

Imperial Sand Dunes, very near the filming site of some scenes from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. Jabba the Hutt and the mighty Sarlacc must be close. YES!

Welcome to the Colorado Desert portion of the greater Sonora Desert, a place called the Imperial Valley. It is a land of sand dunes, gravelly "hardpan," rocky peaks, the Mexican border, and oh so many creosote bushes. During my brief tenure here (June and July) the nights were a balmy 80-85 degrees, while the days were as blistering as 118 degrees Fahrenheit. In this land a mid-afternoon breeze felt akin to having a massive array of hairdryers focused directly on your face. On the less arid days I easily achieved full-on "swampin'," as it came to be called. Three interns were crazy enough to sign up for this gig with me: Paulina, Aileen, and Andy. Under the direction of the American Conservation Experience (ACE) and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) we were given a short 8-week job in the unforgiving desert environment...

It is 4:30AM. GET UP. Your alarm is blaring that song you now hate. Why did you read that stupid Swedish crime novel until 9:30 last night? Ugh. Get up, idiot. Make coffee, quintuple check your things, drink coffee, grab tons of water, and get on the road. Hopefully someone else wants to drive today. TRAIL MIX. You need that too. Must get to the field plot before the 5:30 sunrise! And away we go.

"Hey look, the border fence. Does it actually cross the dunes or does it go around them?"
"A jackrabbit! A kit fox!"
"Why do people live here? There is no water."
"What are those border patrol cars doing?"
"WATERMELON."
"Guys, I just came up with a new word, albatrois: the fancy name for a trio of albatrosses."

Sunrise over the endless creosote bushes.

That is how the workdays usually began: fumbling around to get ready, hopping into the truck, and then a collection of random sights and insights along the way. The research plots we drove out to were seemingly random 300m x 300m squares in the vast desert. The perimeter of each one was flagged off (by us, via GPS), and carefully scoured in 10-meter wide transects by our crew of four. What were we looking for? Lizards, duh. But not just any lizards. These were the BEST lizards. I am talking about the Flat-tailed Horned Lizard (Phrynosoma mcallii). They are among the many varieties of what people call "horny toads" or "horned toads." "Horned lizard" is the most accurate term, since they are lizards, not toads. But only nerds care about that. At work we just called them "flat-tails."

So majestic!

Like stubborn four-legged flapjacks and flapjills, Flat-tailed Horned Lizards do not usually run from predators when threatened. Instead, they remain settled on the sandy griddle, hoping to blend in better than whatever else is cooking in the morning sun. This survival tactic made them easy prey for us lizard catchers, as long as we spotted them, of course. Camouflage is the name of the game for these guys. Many of our sightings occurred when one bolted at the last second to avoid a stomping foot. Others were found dozing out on the open sand, as though they had passed out after a long night of debauchery. That was my favorite way to find them (see picture below). Even if they ran we always managed to track them down. Flat-tails are never going to set any land speed records. Thus they were a breeze to catch. Unlike some species of horned lizard this one cannot squirt blood out from behind its eyes as a last resort. After being captured their sharp horns present the grand finale of their defensive arsenal. A mighty shake of the head could deter most predators, I suppose. But even those efforts were no match for careful human hands, save for a few times. As a crew we found our study species' fruitless attempts at fierceness both hilarious and endearing from day one. By day forty it still had not gotten old.

Ignore previous caption.

The purpose of our job was to contribute to a long term study of population demographics on this imperiled species, not to laugh at them. For this project the BLM chose to implant all adult lizards on the research plots with PIT tags, which are simple microchips with unique ID numbers. The PIT tag is permanent, and the ID number it holds can be read with a scanner at close range. Having an ID allows researchers to follow individual lizards for multiple years, which is incredibly valuable when compiling a multi-year dataset on - you guessed it! - population demographics. All lizards of adequate size get injected with a PIT tag (as painlessly as possible) under the skin on the edge of their soft, white underbelly. Super glue is added to cover the open wound and prevent loss of the PIT tag. In addition to assigning ID numbers we gathered specific data on each individual: length, weight, location, and time of capture, to name a few. In some cases a lot of fluid would ooze from the inflated body cavity of a flat-tail during PIT tag implantation. This necessitated us rehydrating them. In the desert a small loss of fluids spells desiccation, which means death. We gave those unlucky buggers that popped a quick spritz of water to the face. This quickly revealed the surly side of the otherwise mum lizards. Their violent fits of hissing and squirming were passionate and persistent. Water is not something they like on their scaly bodies, as it turns out. I can recall one individual that looked me right in the face as it opened its frowny mouth and hissed like a cat. One or two of them clearly drank the water as it dribbled down their lizard lips. Perhaps our rehydration efforts were not pure torture. During the 10-day survey periods we could count on seeing certain individuals numerous times, while others proved quite elusive. There were likely many that we never saw at all, though my lizarding ego would beg to differ. We found that all plots had unique lizard density and population structure (age/sex ratios, etc.). We can be sure that after so many years of this project all the local lizard populations have developed and  passed down ancient folklore describing the yearly visitors: "Sit down children. See this scar? Before you leave the burrow for the first time you must be warned about the giant demons with the great needle..."

When I found this lil' baby I had a hard time maintaining my composure. Ones this small cannot be PIT tagged. They are too cute.

Of course pancake lizards were not the only creature we encountered in the arid wasteland. All of our plots hosted varying populations of Desert Sidewinders (Crotalus cerastes), which proved to be the most docile animal in the entire desert. They plop themselves in the sand, half-buried and completely motionless. We often spotted their J-shaped tracks and their little cinnamon roll-esque impressions in loose sand. There were a multitude of other animal tracks in addition, including those of Kangaroo rats, beetles, scorpions, other snakes, and many species of lizard. The majority of those animals will come out solely at night, while others are crepuscular, meaning they are most active at the twilight hours of dawn and dusk. During our surveys we could occasionally observe a nocturnal "day owl," but mostly we saw the crepuscular and diurnal critters. Among my favorite animals encountered in the field were the small and colorful Shovel-nosed Snake (Chionactis occipitalis), the harbinger of heat Desert Iguana (Dipsosaurus dorsalis), tail curling Zebra-tailed Lizard (Callisaurus draconoides), clumsy Colorado Fringe-toed Lizard (Uma notata), an awesomely accidental Desert Patch-nosed Snake (Salvadora hexalepis), predatory Red Racer/Coachwhip (Coluber flagellum), and the very smooth Glossy Snake (Arizona elegans). All those animals have their own special adaptations for survival in the desert, whether it be behavioral, physiological, or otherwise. I would go into more detail about observations of each one, except this blog post is already on the lengthy side for my taste.

Early morning Sidewinder just minding its business.

Shovel-nosed Snakes are rarely seen, but we saw three. They are not venomous, despite their vibrant coloration.

Desert Iguanas tend to "waggle" when they run at top speed. This is more of a stationary "co-waggle," so to speak.

One animal that deserves a little more explanation is one I have yet to mention. First, let me set the scene... Imagine you are an innocent, fuzzy, comfortable tarantula. You are going about your day, hunkering down in your safe burrow to avoid the blistering heat. Maybe you choose to read the Spider Sentinel as you sip some tea. BAM, you feel a bolt of lightning hit your abdomen (butt). The immense pain gives way to complete lack of feeling. You are now unable to move. Your body begins to magically levitate, out of your burrow and over the sand and gravel. Now you descend into an unfamiliar burrow. Where on Earth could you be? Have you died and gone to Heaven?

Nope.

Unfortunately this is the fate of a tarantula that has been taken hostage by a female Tarantula Wasp, also called a Tarantula Hawk. The story of the tarantula gets much more sinister after the initial sting and trip to its captor's lair. The wasp, which is freakin' huge, intends to feed this poor soul to its offspring. A single egg is laid atop the tarantula's abdomen. The egg hatches - and mind you the tarantula is still alive in a state of paralysis - and the larval wasp crawls down into the body of its oblivious host. The mission of the larva is a dastardly one. The little baby wasp carefully avoids eating away the vital organs of its living buffet. Everyone knows that tarantula meat goes bad quickly. Eat it live or throw it out. The spider must remain alive until the wasp is satiated. That can take weeks! Then the wasp pupates and flies away of its own accord on fresh new wings. The tarantula's death is slow, painless (after the sting from Mama Wasp), and pretty unappetizing to us non-wasps. During our morning desert walkabouts we saw Tarantula Wasps here and there. The largest ones were MASSIVE, and the smallest ones were of normal wasp size. We never saw one pull a tarantula from its burrow, though we did see plenty of webbed tarantula hideouts, and we always checked for noticeable disturbances at the entrance. Now, I am sure you are curious about the Tarantula Wasp's sting, right? According to the Schmidt Pain Index, only the Bullet Ant (I saw those in the Peruvian Amazon last summer!) has a more painful sting. With that in mind we avoided Tarantula Wasps at all costs. A wasp on the prowl is not to be messed with. I feared them.

Here is the best Tarantula Wasp picture I got. Would you have gone any closer?

Other than wandering the desert with wasps for hours at a time there was not much to do in Imperial County, which should come as no surprise. El Centro, the largest city, is mostly gross, decrepit, and surprisingly agricultural. The Cardenas supermarket was a highlight because of their supply of delicious tortilla chips, mangoes, and horchata. Our "weekends" were 4-day breaks from the action. I mostly stayed around and applied for jobs on those days. Remember, this gig was only 8 weeks long! On our final weekend myself, Aileen, and Andy took a trip down to Ensenada, Mexico. Compared to El Centro, Ensenada was a paradise: ocean beaches, great places to eat, and a less wasteland-ish feeling overall. I ate the greatest burrito in existence, as well as perfect tacos, ceviche, local wine, good tequila, breakfast empanadas, and my daily mango (or two). Beyond the feasting, we also took a bus to La Bufadora, the second largest marine geyser blowhole thing in the world! Waves slowly crept in, people leaned over the edge, and BOOM, the water would spray up violently, then rain down and drench the screaming crowd. I especially enjoyed seeing people with selfie sticks receive a healthy deluge. It was great fun to see water again. I highly recommend visiting Ensenada for anyone considering a quick glimpse of Mexico. The bus down from Tijuana is cheap, and so is everything else once you arrive. Hostal Todos Santos is an amazing place to stay for those choosing to avoid the touristy crap in downtown. The city is safe and the locals are friendly. And obviously the food will not disappoint.

Sand meets water. FINALLY!

La Bufadora doing its thing.

Burrito composed entirely of dreams.

I suppose now is the time to wrap things up. To summarize: I walked in the desert with three brave souls, caught a bunch of goofy lizards, and saw some things I never could have anticipated. This was a really enjoyable summer field position. My crew was incredibly easy to be around, maybe even fun. Okay, they were awesome! I already miss each of them for their company and wealth of inside jokes. Of course I will miss the flat-tails too! Their behaviors were fascinating, but most importantly they made me laugh every single day. There is one more thing I will miss that is harder to explain: being in a landscape so desolate that hardly anyone else bothers to see it. Jobs that bring me into such places are unique. Few people would choose to hike around in a random part of the desert for hours on end. But doing so presents unmatched opportunities for wildlife viewing. We saw things that can only be seen by putting in those hours, day after day. I am thankful for the experience, for seeing what I did. And I am most thankful to know that there is still so much out there that has gone unseen. This is a big reason why I do this type of work. Now I am in the process of finding another job while trying to get my act together and apply for Master's positions. Graduate school is officially in my sights. Wish me luck! Thanks for reading. More pictures below!

Found this Desert Banded Gecko (Coleonyx variegatus) on a rare night hike.

A particularly pretty flat-tail curling her tail for the camera.

Some tracks are obvious.

Coachwhip eating poor Number 16. We waited for the snake to finish eating, then caught and scanned it to determine which of our PIT tagged lizards was in its stomach. SCIENCE.

An accidental digression led us straight to this rare Patch-nosed Snake. Notice the strange upturned scale on its nose.

Sidewinder being sneaky in a burrow.

Probably fresh Shovel-nosed Snake tracks.

Fringe-toed Lizard hiding very poorly.

Blueberry beetle! Actually a type of darkling beetle. Some had a very cloudy abdomen, closely resembling a blueberry.

Lizards like bombing ranges.

Scorpions are rarely seen in the day. This is the only one we saw during work hours.

This is a camel spider, also called a solifuge. I prefer the latter name. This one appeared to have died trying to escape the morning heat.

The valiant field crew navigating the harsh Sonoran Desert in style.

Frog Recordings and the End of Pseudacris Season

The last few weeks of the field season were a whirlwind, to say the least. After an extended stint in Tallahassee the crew hit the road once more, and this time the trailer was left behind. FOR GOOD. Seriously though. Our time spent doing the mate choice preference testing in Auburn turned out to be our very last. The remainder of the field season ended up being designated time for work on "landscape genetics" endeavors. Last year our crew did some of that up in Virginia, but only for a week or so. This type of work involves collecting frogs (still Pseudacris feriarum) in a bunch of locations so that genetic samples can be acquired and compared over the broad geographic range of our focal species. This year, in addition to collecting frogs and genetic samples, we were tasked with recording the mating calls of several of the male frogs we encountered.

The process of recording a single male frog's call can be a long one. It is . You must A) hear calling frogs; B) locate a single frog, which can be really tough; C) sneak up and stick a microphone in front of its face; D) wait for it to call 20 times in a row, which requires lots of patience; and E) catch and bag the little dude. With two sets of recording equipment between three people we knocked out a lot of recordings on the good nights (20 recordings). When a frog or a group of frogs got quiet we utilized a couple methods for getting them going again. First, one of us would don this big frog suit, hop around on all fours and... just kidding. We had recordings of frog choruses on our phones, which we played on loop for several minutes, or until the frogs in front of us felt compelled to join in. When that failed to work we pulled out the big guns: We sang our own calls. Yes, you read that correctly. I spent an upwards of 20 minutes straight attempting to make frog vocalizations. And it worked, sometimes! My frogging ego hit an all-time high the first time I fooled a frog into thinking I was its buddy. So anyway, that is what I was up to most recently. Weird, right?

We did this work at a ton of localities throughout northern Mississippi, northeastern Tennessee, and southeastern/central Kentucky. It was a marathon of driving, camping, and frog recording! Similarly, writing about it in much detail would be a time-consuming activity, and I honestly lack the motivation to throw such a tome together. With that in mind, here is a bulleted summary of our travels in March:

- Tallahassee to Oxford, Mississippi
- It snowed
- Slept at a farm full of dogs, goats, turkeys, and peacocks. Turkeys and peacocks do not get along.

Battle scene

- Shipped frogs in the mail
- Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, and FINALLY saw the Mississippi River in all its muddy glory

The Big Muddy (Arkansas is on the left)

- Oxford to Jellico, Tennessee (it's in the Johnny Cash song "I've Been Everywhere")
- Appalachian stuff (salamanders, topography, food desert, etc.)
- Around 4PM most men answered the front door shirtless, but they didn't mind people catching frogs in the ditch out front. In fact, they had a nice big pond out back by the abandoned school bus, if we're game for an adventure. Maybe next time.

I will stick to the ditch. #notinyourbackyard

- Tons of driving in and around Knoxville
- American Toads do a lot of wrestling when they are frisky
- Named an American Toad Cheddar Bo' to honor the sandwich served at Bojangles

They loved us too

- Forgotten supplies replaced/shipped to us
- Dissecting frogs outside is awful
- Hardee's (East Coast Carl's Jr) in Williamsburg, Kentucky was our Wifi haven
- I ate at a White Castle for the first time
- Terrifying truck problems happened, then magically disappeared
- Tons of driving but no frogs
- Streamside Salamanders!!!

So fat and great!

- More driving
- Mammoth Cave National Park, woot woot!

This cave cricket is the best picture I got at Mammoth Cave, sorry!

- Final frogs recorded, after a tremendous amount of waiting
- Drove back to Tallahassee after another successful field season :)

As you can see, we covered a LOT of ground. The primary goal in Tennessee and Kentucky was to find sites where both Pseudacris feriarum and Pseudacris brachyphona (Mountain Chorus Frog) were present. The hope is to understand how P. brachyphona is affecting our P. feriarum friends in areas of sympatry (co-occurrence). P. brachyphona has a short and rapid mating call when compared to P. feriarum. My boss, Dr. Lemmon, hypothesizes that the P. feriarum in such areas have slowed down their call as an evolutionary response. Fewer hybrids (hybrids are usually maladaptive) will occur if they differentiate their calls in this way. Out in the field we managed to record quite a few frogs, including a few hybrids! Their calls sounded intermediate between the two species, which made them stand out, even in a larger choruses. Recording and catching them was difficult, but very rewarding!

With the field season finally over it is difficult to even remember all the events that transpired. We did not take very many days off in the month of March (frogs do not take days off). When I was not driving, recording, catching, or dissecting frogs I was looking up places to stay, staring at maps, tracking the budget, and backing up all of the frog calls we recorded to DropBox. It was crazy, but I can look back on it with a great sense of accomplishment. We got so much done! I could not be more proud of my hardworking crewmates, Alyssa and John! They maintained sanity and humor during some tiring times. And even better, they worked really hard, often doing things without me asking. Job well done, guys!

John is now back in New York to finish up his Master's degree at Hofstra, shoot some birds at the airport, and prepare for his PhD research on striped skunks at the University of Southern Illinois in Carbondale. Alyssa is back in Tallahassee to continue her work as a lab technician for the Lemmon Lab, along with some volunteering for the Rokyta Lab, which does lots of research on snake venom!

As for me, I am back in Tallahassee twiddling my thumbs. Okay, not really. I actually have a lot going on, from post-field season checklists to learning new lab skills. I am also in the process of applying for a work visa... for ECUADOR! I will be working as a field assistant for Dr. Santiago Ron of the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Ecuador (PUCE). My tentative start date is early May! I will talk about this some more in a different post, but obviously this is an exciting opportunity for me. Hopefully I can get the work visa stuff settled next week. I need to buy my plane ticket soon!

As it is the end of the field season I want to express my gratitude to those that contributed to our success. First, a huge thank you to Dr. Emily Lemmon for taking me back for another go-around with the Pseudacris project! I also want to thank the many members of the Lemmon Lab for being a good group to come home to every so often. Finally, another huge thank you to my two field crew buddies. You guys were awesome this winter!

Thank you for taking a glance at my blog. I apologize if the quality of my writing has gone down. I am way too busy playing basketball and thinking about Ecuador to write well.

Special thanks to all the Pseudacris out there too!