<< Back 6/5/02 The Naturalist's Corner By Don Hendershot Part of the fun of salamandering is wallowing around in streams, creeks and ditches turning over stones and logs (and, of course, replacing them to their original position) and churning through leaf litter and muck just to find the shy slippery creatures. But for those with a low muck tolerance, or if you just need to keep your shoes dry and your pants clean because you have somewhere to be later, there is still a way to get your wiggle quota and stay, at least, moderately presentable. A number of species of salamanders like to hang out around seepages where water flows over rock outcroppings in the mountains. The combination of water, cool rocks, moss, vegetation and leaf litter makes fine salamander habitat. And once your eyes become accustomed to picking these cryptic creatures out, it is generally easy to find a few salamanders at almost any seepage area. Plus, if you’re careful you’ll only get the soles of your shoes wet and a little cool, refreshing spray from the water splashing off the rocks. The Blue Ridge Parkway offers easy access to numerous seepage areas. One usually productive seep is along Heintooga Spur Road. Heintooga road is located at milepost 458.2 and goes from the Parkway to Balsam Mountain Campground and Heintooga Picnic Area in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park about six miles from the parkway. Along Heintooga Road, about a mile past the entrance to the GSMNP is a large seepage area where water cascades over a large rock outcropping. I stopped there last Thursday, initially to see the Michaux’s saxifrage ( a plant that inhabits seeps) that was blooming. Once there I decided to snoop around for salamanders. It took about three minutes of looking closely at the rock face, investigating the crevices and studying the colonies of moss before I finally spotted one. I am sure this was a “dusky” salamander and am pretty sure it was a santeetlah dusky. The duskies are in the genus Desmognathus, a large, highly variable genus with frequent hybridization, which has recently undergone a lot of study resulting in the naming of new species. I didn’t capture this specimen for closer study, but the high elevation, the habitat and the dorsal pattern all point to santeetlah. As is often the case with salamanders, once your eyes become atuned, they begin to appear everywhere. Suddenly the rock face was covered with these little duskies from about an inch-and-a-half to three inches long. They all looked to be the same species. After a few minutes of watching these little wigglers, I moved to the other side of the seep, staying practically dry. I didn’t see any critters on the rock face or hugging the patches of moss. I stepped closer and started examining the crevices. Suddenly, right under my nose — a salamander’s nose. The snout and large, round “bug” eyes protruded from a crack in the rock. If you could have gotten a close-up photograph and enlarged it, it would have looked like some sci-fi lizard monster emerging from a fissure in the earth’s crust. I found a small twig and inserted it in the crack behind godzilla and prodded the salamander out onto exposed rock. I was rewarded with a close look at a healthy, robust black-bellied salamander, Desmognathus quadramaculatus. This chunky fella was a little over five inches long and uniformly dark colored with a keeled tail. Within about 20 minutes I had observed about eight different salamanders representing at least two different species and had nary a spot of mud on me. I know, I’m a disgrace to herpetologists around the world, but if you’re out on the parkway looking for a break and a chance to stretch your legs and happen to be salamander-oriented, stop and take a break at one of the many seepage areas. A flashlight could be handy, even in the daytime — it helps focus your eyes. (Don Hendershot can be reached at don@smokymountainnews.com)