The family station wagon rolls down I-40 eastward towards its destination of Black Mountain, NC. My dad at the wheel, my mom beside him and me in the back seat staring out the window as the road begins to curve. Here, on the border between Tennessee and North Carolina lies the heart of biodiversity within the Southern Appalachians, in the Great Smoky Mountains. Still using a booster seat, I’m nearly a decade away from knowing this, still I can’t help but look up at the green carpeted mountains and wonder what secrets adventures they hold.
The headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Pigeon River in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Here the waters flow from the ridge that separates Tennessee and North Carolina all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.
An hour or so later, we roll to a stop in my uncles’ driveway. He, my aunt, and my aunt’s partner all live in the quaint mountain town of Black Mountain. Yet to have been discovered by hordes of summertime Floridian tourists, it still holds an authentic artisan feel. If I am to be honest, don’t remember much of my uncles’ apartment but I do remember what mattered. Between the car and the walkway leading up to the door laid a goldfish pond, completely with lily pads and all. After familial greetings, luggage totting, and the reality of how boring it is to visit family, my dad and I sauntered back out to the pond to take a gander. There before my waking eyes, amongst the koi were my first (to my recollection) salamanders.
Eastern newts are one of the most ubiquitous salamanders in the eastern United States. Typically green with red markings on their back, and a unique life cycle to any eastern naturalist they are synonymous with forested pools. Little did I know at the time, catching these simple newts would forever change me and that this moment would be the most important in my life.
An adult terrestrial Eastern Newt (Notophthalmus viridescens) from Kentucky where the red-spotted subspecies occurs.
From those newts I grew to be more and more fascinated by these little tailed amphibians. A group of more than eight-hundred species that are as diverse and colorful as any bird in the sky or fish in the sea. Nearly a decade later I would find a name and community for my passion: Herpetology. I quickly turned my fascination into a drive to always be chasing the next hardest species, this “questing beast.” Like a black hole I’ve absorbed knowledge about these things from anywhere that would offer it, eventually leading to a career as a wildlife biologist.
Now, nearly two decades later I've found my 200th US salamander species as of this month. With still many more to go I want to reflect on what those 200 species have taught me. From perseverance and patience, to courage and friendship salamanders can be great teachers. So along with my internal reflection I'd like to honor certain species over the next few posts, like the Eastern Newt, who I owe so much.
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