He Put the Taz in Taz-Mania

Much like the Hyena and the Wolverine, the Tasmanian Devil (Sarcophilus harrisii) has a reputation. Once again, that reputation as a fierce predator and unscrupulous scavenger is not entirely unfounded. As the largest marsupial predator alive, the Tasmanian Devil will kill and eat most anything smaller than itself, and happily scavenge the remains of anything larger. The name “Devil" seems harsh for an animal the size of a lapdog, but when early settlers heard them fighting through the night, “Devil” came readily to mind.

Tasmanian Devils don’t typically hang out together except when a particularly large carcass has been found. Disagreements soon break out¹ about who gets to eat first. However, like its Warner Brothers counterpart, the Tasmanian Devil is more loudmouth than fighter, especially to its own species². There is a lot of growling, and baring teeth, and even some nipping, but physical fights are rare.

The home life of the Tasmanian Devil is nearly as dysfunctional (by human standards) as its table manners. When a female is ready to mate, she will visit a number of males to make sure she’s pregnant. She will give birth to about 30 raisin-sized babies, which is an issue, because she only has four teats. The newborns race to the pouch, and only the winners survive to weaning. In eight months, the young are ready to head out on their own.

Since European settlers arrived in Tasmania, the Devils have had a roller-coaster ride in terms of population. Initially they were killed for raiding chicken coops and the like. In the 1940s, they became protected by law. This increased their numbers enough that they were once again considered a pest species by the 1980s. Then, in the 1990s, a new threat emerged: Devil Facial Tumor Disease. This is a contagious cancer that has once again reduced Tasmanian Devil population to a fraction of what it once was.

The Tasmanian government has lost no time in trying to protect these animals, including quickly having the Tasmanian Devil listed as endangered. Breeding programs, disease research, and awareness campaigns have popped up all over the island in an attempt to save this little loudmouth.

¹ While the Tasmanian Devil in that video is eating, he sounds exactly like my cat.
²For your listening pleasure, please compare Mel Blanc’s interpretation with the real thing. I’m sure your co-workers won’t mind if you’re listening at work.

Hail to the Victors Valiant

I apologize for the unintentional two-month hiatus. Thanksgiving, leading right up to finals left me little time to search for Endangered Ugly Things. Next semester, I am only doing thesis work and teaching the Invertebrate Zoology lab, so hopefully I’ll be able to get back to my regular update schedule. This specific animal had to wait until after the regular college football season, to not upset my relatives who are Ohio State University alumni.

Image by me

The Wolverine (Gulo gulo) is, for all intents and purposes, a very big weasel. Forty-five pounds big. They are found around the world, under the Arctic Circle. Due to the large amount of food each individual requires, they have massive home ranges, with males wandering around an area of nearly 250 square miles. They can take down large prey (up to Caribou), but tend to scavenge when they have the opportunity.

The Wolverine has gained the same sort of reputation in North America as the Hyena does in Africa—a mangy, dangerous, scavenger (my dad has other names for the University of Michigan Wolverines). They aren’t mangy, but they are mainly scavengers—why fight a moose when it’ll die of starvation soon enough? They can also be quite dangerous, but name a fifty-pound animal that isn’t¹.

I suppose what really irks me is the instant inclusion of scavengers into the “evil” category. Wolverines, hyenas, ravens and vultures all tend to get thrown into this role. I suppose this trend comes from the association with death, but I tend to see them more as janitors. They serve a vital role in cleaning up the ecosystem (would you like to be neck deep in deer carcasses?), and they get absolutely no respect for it. As the mutant Logan states "I'm the best there is at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice."

Despite their ferocious image, the mothers take good care of their young, keeping them close and safe for more than a year after they are born. It’s at this stage of life that Wolverines are the most vulnerable to other predators in the area, but when there’s a protective mother Wolverine in the area, that’s not all that vulnerable. Videos of the baby Wolverines are just as cute as you’d expect baby mammals playing to be.

Despite declining numbers due to the expanding range of humans, predator poisoning regimes, and trapping, Wolverines are not listed by the IUCN. They’re not even federally listed in the US (despite multiple petitions for such), due to lack of data on their numbers, though there may be some pressure from groups who still want to trap these animals. They are, however, listed as endangered in Canada. As information grows about these animals, hopefully we can begin to better protect this ferocious (sometimes) scavenger.

¹Dad mentioned the Capybara. Wikipedia says they “…are gentle and will usually allow humans to pet and hand-feed them.” Dang. Alright, smart guy, name a second one.

How I Felt

Much like last month, August's EUT is a suggestion that came in a while ago, and I'm only just getting around to it. This is the first time that a researcher has suggested their own species of interest as an Endangered Ugly Thing, and I'm quite excited about it. He's even set up a support group for Ugly Thing researchers on the forum. Randy, the researcher, even had a professor tell him--in the middle of a presentation, no less--that his research topic was, "the ugliest thing I have ever seen - it looks like black vomit!" Now, isn't that just mean? Doesn't his research demand respect, regardless of how the species looks? On the other hand, it does look like black vomit.

Image by Randy Skinner

The Boreal Felt Lichen (Erioderma pedicellatum) is, according to ARKive, "known as the Panda Bear of lichens," due to its rarity. I personally think, given the professor's description, the lichen needs quite a bit more charisma before it can be described as the Panda Bear of anything¹. Much like the Rock Gnome Lichen, the Boreal Felt Lichen is actually two species living together in symbiosis. The majority of the Lichen is a fungus, which serves as structure and protection for the cyanobacteria that allows the organism to photosynthesize.

This lichen is quite picky about where it plants itself. It requires very large amounts of moisture, so it only lives in coastal areas. In Scandinavia it grows mostly on Norway Spruce, and in Newfoundland it keeps mainly to Balsam Firs. The only problem with the previous statement is that it might not exist in Scandinavia anymore. The Canadian population is under massive amounts of protection to save the 10,000 or so individuals that remain.

What has been hitting the Boreal Felt Lichen so hard, as to cause it to go extinct in much of its range? Scientists aren't sure, but they've got a lot of good ideas, such as deforestation, climate change, acid rain, and air pollution. It's very likely that it's a combination of these factors, as the cyanobacteria that provides the lichen with food is very susceptible to changes in humidity and pH.

The areas in Newfoundland that contain the majority of the remaining population are being protected by the government as soon as they find them. This is where our poor lichen researcher, Randy, comes in. He is using state-of-the-art landscape ecology to create models that would be able to predict where a previously unknown group of Boreal Felt Lichens might be found.

¹Maybe we should reverse it. How do you think Panda researchers would respond to their species being called "the Boreal Felt Lichen of Carnivora"?

You Dirty Rat

Today, I had an urge to write about a non-descript rat thing. At one point, I mentioned that the EDGE website was full of them. So, I went trolling, but to no avail. Many of them are quite cute. The ones that aren’t, well, it’s possible that some of them have been extinct since the ‘60s and no one’s noticed¹. Then, like a bolt from the blue, I remembered a non-descript rat thing that was much closer to home. I mentioned it by name in the original essay, and promptly forgot about its existence.

Image by Bob Gress via Outdoor Alabama

The Allegheny Woodrat (Neotoma magister) is literally a big packrat. Much like the Fen Raft Spider researchers who called it a “beautiful spider,” the Woodrat is described by Wikipedia as, “…particularly handsome in appearance resembling more of an over sized White-footed Mouse than the Norway Rat.” That’s not exactly a stunning endorsement.

As its name suggests, the Allegheny Woodrat is found along the Allegheny Mountains, typically in the woods. More specifically, these large rodents are found among rocky outcroppings, where they build their nests. They are nocturnal and understandably shy, as their main predators are owls, bobcats, weasels, foxes, and probably any other large predator that happens to be outside at that time of night. Their food consists of typical small herbivore fare: berries, seeds, nuts, and grasses.

Like other packrats, they make a bark-and-grass nest, tucked away in their little hidey-hole, and decorate it with exciting shiny things they find around the place. It has been suggested that they will place dried leaves near their football-sized nest to act as early warning systems to detect incoming predators. They raise three litters of three babies per year, which is apparently very few compared to their more promiscuous cousins.

Scientists have noticed the population decline of the Woodrats all over their range, except, apparently, in Kentucky, where they seem to be doing all right for some reason. Defoliation vectors, such as Gypsy Moth or Chestnut Blight have caused habitat problems throughout the Woodrat’s range. However, the best suspect for their decline is a little nematode known as Baylisascaris procyonis. As areas become more urbanized, generalists, such as Raccoons, become more populous. B. procyonis is a Raccoon parasite, and it is fatal to Woodrats. Most of the conservation efforts surrounding the Woodrat have been studies trying to control this parasite.

¹I really don’t like the fact that I can’t write about some organisms because there’s not enough data out there. I may have to make a post of animals with cool names and insufficient data, just to keep track of them.

Throwing Copper

Recently, I was featured in an article in a magazine distributed around Ohio¹. If you’re interested in reading it, I’ve linked to it here.

Two months ago, Pcrucifer asked if I take requests—indeed I do. While I’ve written about a number of snakes, I still get the feeling that the general public still thinks: “EEK! A snake!” Until that changes, I will continue writing about them. Water snakes are big and angry enough that they will always find a place here.

Image from Michigan DNR

The Copperbelly Water Snake (Nerodia erythrogaster neglecta), like the rest of the genus, is fond of water, though it is not as aquatic as some of its relatives. Typically found near wetlands and swampy forests in the Midwest, it hunts down any animal it can fit in its mouth², usually frogs, tadpoles, and small fish. Unlike many Water Snakes, the Copperbelly has is uniform color on its back. Its belly, surprise-surprise, is bright orange. I was asked why they have a bright red belly. I can’t seem to find the answer.

While they are normally found near wetlands, they have a large enough range that they frequently move between wet spots, and even hibernate in the higher, drier areas. This movement causes some issues when there’s a human-made impediment in the way. Pcrucifer even called them “a snake for whom roads are a real problem.” I am familiar with this problem.

However, being squashed by cars is not their biggest threat. Some of these threats are becoming very predictable. I asked my English major girlfriend³: “They’re a wetland species, why are they endangered?” Without hesitation, she answered, “Because wetlands are disappearing.” Yes, I would be hard-pressed to find a wetland animal I’ve written about that doesn’t have “Habitat loss” as one of the threats.

There are people who worry about this snake, and lots of people who worry about wetlands. As the Copperbelly is only recently federally listed, recovery plans are still in the works, but I’m sure current wetland efforts can’t be hurting.

¹To people with a certain electric company. So, if you live in Ohio and can’t find it, that’s why.
²Remember, this is a snake we’re talking about here. “Can fit in its mouth” is bigger than “the size of its head."
³Who wrote about the Andean Condor.

Old Dead Tree

The last time I wrote about something that wasn’t an animal was just about six months ago, and the last time I wrote about a fungus was last March. As much as I hate to admit it, I can see how easy it is to fall into the “cute things” trap. I’m still trying to be even-handed, so I’m going to see if I can push my way out of the snare of zoocentrism¹. In that vein, here’s a rotting log.

Image from Swefungi.se

Many people fail to think about the fact that rotting logs don’t just fall apart on their own; they need help². Thus is the job of Phellinus nigrolimitatus, which has no common name, other than a wood-decay fungus. It lives in the deep temporal forests across the Northern Hemisphere, and essentially having the same interactions with a tree there as vultures in Africa have with the zebras. The fungus kills nothing, just feasts on the remains, allowing nutrients to be passed back into the soil.

While I have had problems finding information about species in the past, this fungus yields a different issue, similar to the problem I had with the Sagalla Caecilian. There is information out there about P. nigrolimitatus, but it’s all in scientific journals. It’s amazing how convenient ARKive’s format is: listing what it is, where it’s found, why it’s endangered, with a big picture on top. But, since the information is out there, I don’t want to shy away from writing about it just because I’m lazy (or don't speak Swedish or Norwegian).

Its diet consists mainly of old (well, dead) Spruces, as well as a few Pine species. I’m not exactly sure how it spreads from tree to tree, but it likely has airborne spores that are scattered throughout the forest in hopes of landing on a beautiful, rotting tree carcass.

While P. nigrolimitatus may be found around the world, it is only listed in Norway and Sweden. This means one of two things: either Norway and Sweden have specific problems with the fungus, or the entire Northern Hemisphere does, and only those two countries recognize it. The problem, according to many articles, is the fact that these fungi are really only found in very dense, unmanaged forests, where tree corpses are littered throughout. In managed forests, with a low number of huge, dead trees, it is that much more difficult for the spores to find their way to a suitable habitat.

The biggest conservation effort in place for the fungus seems to be the fact that they are listed as endangered, which may lead to more old growth, non-managed forests where they are found. As I stated when I first wrote about a fungus, I’m waiting for the day when there is a United States Endangered fungus. A few states have them already.

¹I know it’s not a word, but it should be.
²We've got a Petrified Forest for that exact reason.

Swamp Rattler

There’s an EUT that I’ve known about for a long time that even I’m surprised I missed. In the second post, more than a year ago, I wrote about one of the endangered snakes I found in the road mortality survey in high school. Well, there was another endangered snake, and somehow, it has slipped through a year of blogging.

Image by me

This rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus) goes by a number of names, such as Swamp Rattler, Black Rattler, but I’ve always called it a Massasauga, which apparently means “Great River Mouth” in Chippewa. By those names, it should come as no surprise that these snakes are typically found in wetland areas, as well as near rivers and streams. They are typically ambush hunters, lying in wait for small rodents to wander within range. Since rattlesnakes are a group within pit vipers, they have heat-sensing organs to find their prey.

Unlike most rattlesnakes, Massasaugas hibernate alone, finding crayfish burrows in which to spend the winter, below the frost line. I don’t know how many of those crayfish are… uh… forcefully evicted from their burrows, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that was how most Massasaugas found their over-wintering hole. Females mate in the spring, yearly or every other year, depending how healthy she is. Birthing (remember, rattlesnakes have live young) happens in the late summer, with a litter of five to nineteen bouncing… uh, slithering babies.

While their range stretches from New York to Minnesota and from Missouri to Ontario, they are endangered within each state or province in their range. So, despite the fact that the Massasauga’s range takes up most of the Northeastern United States, it really only exists in small isolated populations. One of those happens to be the Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, where I spent each fall in high school peeling dead snakes off the road. I suppose I can’t really let this post go by without a personal anecdote, so here goes. Freshman year, when we were still trying to figure out what we were doing, and I couldn’t yet drive, Dad and I came across a live Massasauga near the edge of the road. It wasn’t atypically big, probably two feet long. I had been given a two-foot long snake hook, but I hadn’t brought it with me, because I would pick up any non-venomous snake with my hands, and two feet wouldn’t be near long enough for any venomous snake. After collecting the data, we realized that we were supposed to take the snake off the road, so it wouldn’t get run over, which was achieved by stomping, yelling, and throwing roadside litter near it¹.

So that was a little off topic. They are not particularly endangered due to road mortality (I only found four of them in four years of study), but for two other major reasons. The first reason is that people don’t like snakes, especially venomous ones. There are kind, little old ladies with wonderful stories about how they chopped a Swamp Rattler’s head off with a shovel. Reported cases of deaths due to Massasauga bites are few and far between, mostly due to the fact that the people did not get proper treatment in time. The second reason is simply habitat loss, just like for the Alligator Snapping Turtle, as wetlands continue to be developed.

Despite the fact that the Massasauga is state listed throughout its range, it is only listed federally as a species of concern. Most conservation programs focus on the education of the public in an attempt to let them see this snake as a part of the ecosystem, instead of a potential threat. Habitat conservation is also a big part of saving this snake, and there are a few captive breeding programs in Canada working to release more of these beauties into the wild.

¹This was before we started taking photographs of each one. Otherwise, the picture would be much better than the above, or even my other option, this one.

Indiana Jones

There’s a species that I mentioned in the original essay that I haven’t written about yet. Its ugliness is questionable, but there are a lot of people who don’t like bats. I had hoped to get this up by Halloween, but various factors conspired against it.

Image from FWS

This is the Indiana Bat (Myotis sodalis), which, as its name suggests, is found in Indiana. About half of the entire world population roost there, with the rest of them spread out among the nineteen surrounding states. Their genus, Myotis, means “mouse-eared”, and includes more common species such as the Little Brown Bat, and three others that are found in Ohio¹. The species name, sodalis, is Latin for “companion,” which is an appropriate name for them, as they roost in groups of at least one hundred individuals.

As far as shape and nightly habits go, the Indiana Bat is like most other small (they weigh up to 7.5 grams), insectivorous bat—hunting by echolocation, swooping after moths and mosquitoes all night, and coming back to roost at dawn. They make their roosts under sloughing bark of dead trees, typically near streams. In the winter, they find caves in which to hibernate. Their exacting standards for these hibernacula (the technical term) are one of the reasons that they are endangered. The caves must be between freezing and 50°F, and maintain about 95% humidity.

The National Fish and Wildlife Service states that one of the major threats to the Indiana Bat is human disturbances of their hibernating caves, much like the Virginia Long Eared Bat. However, even gating erected to keep people out can disturb the environment of the cave, if done improperly. Many people are also worried about their summer roosts being disturbed, or cut down.

There certainly are conservation programs in place to try to help them out. They are listed as endangered, federally and internationally. The major goal of the conservation programs is to prevent the disturbance of the nesting sites. In the Wayne National Forest, there is a single hibernaculum, but hardly a tree can be cut down without at least a few nights of monitoring for these furry fliers.

¹And likely in nearby states as well. What can I say; I’ve lived in this state too long to not be a little biased.

Might As Well Jump

Phantom Midge¹ has given me a suggestion for this week’s post. The name was way out there—far enough that I knew it had to be written about. Meet the Dromedary Jumping-Slug (Hemphillia dromedarius).

Image by Kristina Ovaska from Parks Canada

Yes, you read right. Dromedary. Jumping. Slug². It gets its name from the fact that a) it has a single hump, like camel, b) to avoid predators, it wriggles and leaps, and c) it’s a slug. It hails from British Columbia, Canada (and a small bit of Washington), and is the first EUT from the Canadian list, on which it is listed as threatened. The Dromedary Jumping-Slug is not the only jumping-slug in existence, in fact, the Warty one (Hemphillia glandulosa) is listed as “of special concern” on the Canadian list.

There is not a lot of information about this slug. It only got added to the list in ’03. In fact, none of the sites I’ve found even mention what it eats, though I’m guessing leaves and the like. The Jumping-Slug’s predators (that which it jumps away from) include: carnivorous beetles, other gastropods, rodents, and birds. The Dromedary Jumping-Slug, like most slugs, is hermaphroditic, which leads to some pretty interesting mating rituals³.

Habitat fragmentation and loss is the major threat to our leaping friends. They can’t move very far, so any fragmentation is a problem. Fragmentation also makes it easier for predators to reach them. Conservation is just starting out, but they’re certainly working on it.

Edit: Yes, it's almost a year after I published this, but I was just given a link to video that shows exactly how these slugs "jump".

¹Since she doesn’t have a blog, I’ll link to her sister, which seems only fair, since she linked to me.
²Yes, I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t help but think of a Dromedary-Jumping slug—that is, a slug that specifically leaps over one-humped camels.
³Here’s a video of (leopard) slug sex. I promise, it’s cool. And not nasty.

Lichen Rock

Well, I wanted to spread the love to all the taxa, and since no one suggested anything last week, you get to read about lichens. Lucky you. Well, to what group do the lichens belong, you may ask. The answer: most of ‘em. The major part of the lichen is a fungus, but it has a symbiotic relationship with either an alga or a cyanobacterium (or both) that allows them to be photosynthetic.

Image from Lichens of North America

I’ll admit the Rock Gnome Lichen¹ (Gymnoderma lineare) isn’t really ugly, it falls more into the category of endangered things you’d never hear or care about. Think about what I tend to write in other posts. What does it eat? Rocks. What behaviors does it have? It grows, very, very slowly, and eats rocks. Breeding habits? A piece of the lichen breaks off².

I suppose some of those are some points of interest, since lichens have the distinction of being able to metabolize minerals straight from rock faces, setting the stage for “higher” plant forms to colonize. A blank rock face with a few greenish growths today could be a forest in 100 years. Or, just as likely, the same lichens that are there today. Not the same population, the same individuals; which brings us to our second point. Lichens are incredibly slow growing. Something like a millimeter a year. They can be used to estimate dates like glacial retreat or ancient landslides. Redwoods and giant tortoises can’t hold a candle to that³. Heck, continents move faster than that.

This particular lichen lives in southern Appalachia, where it likes its rock served moist and vertical. It's the only member of its genus in North America, the other Gymnoderma live in the Himalayas or other East Asian mountains. The rock gnome lichen is extremely sensitive to trampling (despite the fact it lives vertically), and to changes in moisture levels. Many lichens have issues with air pollution, and it’s likely that the rock gnome has the same problems. Scientific collection is an endangerment cause I haven’t talked about yet⁴. What do you do to study something that won’t grow in the lab and dies if you poke at it too much? I’m not sure.

¹Good band name for, what, maybe a bluegrass band?
²Sex, when you’re two or three individual organisms per cell, is kinda difficult. Possible, just complicated.
³And not just because they don’t have opposable digits.
⁴Though a much smaller problem than in, say, the 1800s, when killing was the easiest way to document an animal and get it to as many museums as possible.

Does Whatever A Spider Can

After the post on most of the arachnids on the US List, I couldn’t help but look at the non-cave spider. I will get to your suggestions¹, but I’m still trying to spread the love to all the taxa².

Image from Animal Diversity Web

The Spruce-fir Moss Spider (Microhexura montivaga) is a small (3-5 mm) member of the tarantula group. They live above 5,400 feet in the Appalachian Mountains in North Carolina and Tennessee, where it can get colder and snowier than many spiders mind to handle. The prominent vegetation of these areas (surprise, surprise) is Frasier fir and red spruce, and the spiders inhabit the mosses found in association with those trees.

Like most tarantulas, the moss spider is an ambush predator, feeding on arthropods smaller than itself. This does not mean they don’t make webs; they weave tunnel-shaped nests between the rock and the moss. After mating, the males make a run for it, since many female spiders find the male to be a readily available protein. Females stay with the egg sac until it hatches, and will carry it around if she’s disturbed. When the spiderlings³ hatch, they disperse to other areas by a process called ballooning⁴, where the babies extend a strand of silk to be caught by the wind.

They’re not terribly sure why the spruce-fir moss spider is endangered, though there are some good ideas. The primary suspect: the balsam wooly adelgid, an invasive insect that attacks fir trees, which mess up the spider’s habitat. There’s a possibility of throwing out the baby with the bathwater, as it’s possible that the insecticide used to kill these tree-borers could also be killing the spiders.

The Louisville Zoo is working on a breeding program, though there are no cute little spiderlings yet. I’m finding enough information that I know someone is worried about the species. Heck, someone even named a debugging program after it.

¹I’m really looking forward to learning more about the antelope that looks like something out of Star Wars.
²There are two lichens that I might have to write something about to spread the love even further.
³This is the actual term for a baby spider. Another Cute Endangered Ugly Thing design?
⁴Popularized by the animated version of Charlotte’s Web.

Your Cheatin' Heart

The first EUT of the New Year I found… well, while randomly searching The List for ugly things. I recently discovered that Massachusetts has both an endangered leech and an endangered planarian, and I had hoped to write about those, but I could not find enough information on either (or both) for a decent post. It does mean that Massachusetts is ahead of the game when it comes to Endangered Uglies. This week’s EUT is a threatened gastropod that hails from West Virginia.

Image from Man and Mollusc

This is the Flat-Spired Three-Toothed Snail (Triodopsis platysayoides), also known as the Cheat three-toothed snail. No, not that The Cheat. This is the Cheat River¹, which flows through West Virginia, and the three-tooth makes its home in Cheat Canyon, formed by this river. Actually, “three-tooth” is a misnomer. Many of its genus have three denticles in the opening to its shell, but the Cheat three-tooth² only has one. Think of “three-tooth” as a grouping, instead of a description³. Its spire, where many snails have a point to their shell, is flat; that part of its name holds true.

The Cheat three-tooth lives on the rocks in damp, shaded areas within the Cheat canyon, such as cave mouths and near the river. I can’t seem to find any information about its food source, but most snails scrape vegetable off surfaces using their radula.

The three-tooth snail was added early to the Endangered Species List; five years after the Endangered Species Act came into play in 1973. Back then, it was listed as threatened due to rock scrambling and other visitor disturbances to Cheat Canyon, but those activities have been moved away from the snails’ habitat. Unregulated timber practices, such as logging trails that divert water flow and cause erosion, may be causes to the continued listing as threatened, as well as deer overbrowsing.

Alright, so I complain a lot about EUTs not getting any media attention, but the three-toothed snail has been used by preservation groups to limit logging within Cheat Canyon, even (briefly) showing up in the Charlton Gazette.

¹There’s probably a very interesting story behind the name of the Cheat River. I can’t find it.
²Alright, so they’re not really teeth. In the snails mouths, no teeth either, but a horny tongue, called a radula, used to scrape food.
³Like Grey Squirrels. There are black Grey Squirrels, as well as grey Grey Squirrels.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

Well, Florabot suggested a specific EUT which fits the bill well. However, with going to the Columbus Zoo¹ on Saturday and getting ready Sunday for a three-week long trip to the Galápagos Islands², I’m a little late putting up a post about a wonderfully misunderstood animal. I don’t think it’s ugly, but I know most people can’t stand snakes.

Image by Dan Yaussy

The scientific name of the timber rattler (Crotalus horridus) is not as bad a moniker as I had originally thought. Crotalus refers to the rattle of the rattlesnake, and horridus, which seems to imply a terrifying animal, just refers to its raised stalking pose. Its bite is venomous, but apparently not as deadly to people as other rattlesnakes. According to a Minnesota herpetology site, the last lethal timber rattler bite in Minnesota was in the 1800’s.

Timber rattlesnakes are a middling size snake, somewhere between 3 and 4 feet long, and they have amazing camouflage for lying in wait among the leaf litter in the forests they call home. They ambush small mammals by positioning themselves conveniently in the paths the rodents run along. The females give birth (yes, birth. Not egg-laying) only every three years, and it takes her about five years to get to maturity. Even with their 20-year lifespan, that only leads to about six litters.

I’m sure no one will be surprised when I say that development, cars, and wanton killing are the leading threats to the timber rattlesnake. In fact, the wanton killing leads to an interesting example of selection at work. For the last 200 years, if a snake struck at a person, it got killed. If a snake even rattled at a person, it got killed. This leads, fairly quickly, to quiet, generally non-aggressive snakes. Which can be a problem, since they only rattle to let you know to not step on them. A friend and co-worker of my dad’s apparently walked along a line in a forest in southern Ohio multiple times, only to look down once and see a timber rattler, silently sitting right on the line.

On the site where the Ohio Department of Natural Resources asks people to help report sightings of timber rattlers, it is actively denied that the snakes are being released in Ohio. Why would a department of natural resources have to actively deny a conservation effort? The reason lies around a myth; a myth surrounding timber rattlesnake conservation that is far more exciting than any real conservation efforts would ever strive to be. According to this myth, ODNR uses black helicopters at night to drop rattlesnakes into potential habitats. That’s right, black helicopters. At night. This myth neglects to take several factors into account: A) Do you really think ODNR has the funding to buy several black helicopters? and B) If they really wanted to surreptitiously release rattlesnakes, wouldn’t three guys, a pillowcase full of snakes, and an ATV make more sense, both economically and logistically?

Oh well, myths will be myths.

¹Tried to get a good timber rattler picture. Didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped.
²This is a warning to any die-hard readers (yes, both of you): I’m going to be on a small boat in the Pacific for three weeks. My parents and girlfriend might not get a phone call. Don’t expect a post.

The Devil Went Down to Sussex

The name of this blog is Endangered Ugly Things. No specific mention of animals. So today, in the interest of fairness, I’m adding a fungus to the annals of EUT. Though, when I looked at the US Endangered Species List, there aren’t any fungi listed. The United Kingdom, however, has a ton(ne), or rather twenty-eight fungus species of concern. So, for all you mycologists crying out for your part in the EUT, here you go. Then go put some fungi on the US list; I’m sure there are some endangered ones out there.

Image from UK Biodiversity Action Plan

The Devil’s Bolete, or Satan’s Mushroom (Boletus satanas¹) is a poisonous fungus found in southern England, and has been extirpated (probably²) from Northern Ireland. It forms a symbiotic relationship (ectomycorrhizal, but I had to look up what that meant) with broad-leafed trees, such as birch, oak, and sweet chestnut. The fungus gains a carbon source, and the tree gains increased nutrient intake.

In terms of looks, it’s a short, stocky, with a light colo(u)red cap and reddish yellowish stem. The devilish part comes from its smell. The Northern Ireland site claims that “the taste is unpleasant…” There’s only one issue I’ve got with this statement. It’s poisonous, so “unpleasant” might be putting it lightly. In fact, the most recent record of Satan’s Mushroom in Ireland is due to a poisoning incident.

The major cause of endangerment is deforestation, limiting the number of broad-leafed symbiotes to go around for the Devil’s Bolete. Also, a 1987 hurricane, which resulted in even fewer trees, didn’t help. There doesn’t seem to be any specific program(me) in place to save this devilish fungus. On the bright side, they’ve got a list for fungus. C’mon US, there have to be some American fungi that need our help.

Next week, stay tuned for another non-animal post, because Florabot, my summer roommate who suggested the whole thing (EUT), will teach us about an Endangered Ugly Plant. If there are any botanists out there complaining about underrepresentaion of plants on this blog, consider this my affirmative action.

¹Sound like a good heavy metal album name? These guys thought so.
²Fungi have this terrible habit of disappearing from view and existing solely as hyphae underground. That, and they aren’t exactly conspicuous. Which might be why there aren’t any on the US list.

Lady Madonna - The Beatles

As beetles go, the American Burying Beetle (Nicrophorus americanus) isn’t terribly ugly (this may be due to its nice black and reddish orange pattern on its back). It is a little big (about an inch). On the other hand, invertebrates need a bit more screen time on this blog, and when you’re competing with pandas and tigers, anything with more than twice as many legs as eyes fits into the ugly category.

Image from University of Nebraska State Museum

There’s another thing going for this nocturnal beetle’s inclusion here. People really don’t like carrion eaters, despite their impressive ability to smell a dead body from two miles away within an hour of death. Of course, their habit for eating dead things is helpful for returning nutrients to the soil, and they even have orange mites living on them, which keep the beetle and the carcasses free of many microbes and fly eggs (nothing like a clean corpse).

The impressive part about this beetle is its childcare policy. While most insects tend to drop their eggs and either leave or die, burying beetles are almost… vertebrate in their parental care. After one finds a suitable dead thing, a dove or chipmunk, for example, it will send out a huge amount of pheromones into the air. When a potential mate shows up, the two work together to move the carcass to an acceptable location, and, once there, live up to their name. Once the body is under a few inches of soil, they strip off the skin and some appendages, and generally form the body into a flesh ball, applying excretions that stop fungal growth. The pair then mate, lay 10 to 30 eggs in an adjacent tunnel, and wait for them to hatch. Once the larvae have hatched, the adults will help them out by regurgitation feeding, a la birds, or by moving the young to particularly choice pieces of carcass.

The American burying beetle has a cause for endangerment I haven’t talked about yet: habitat fragmentation, which reduces available prey items, and increases competing scavengers, like raccoons and crows. It also separates the populations, resulting in minimized gene flow. Pesticides and light pollution (remember, they’re nocturnal) don’t help, so now the beetle exists only in isolated pockets, a shadow of its former range.

One does not normally think of breeding programs and reintroduction of insects, but they exist for the burrowing beetle. More than 200 beetles have been reintroduced into Southern Ohio since 1998, and Massachusetts has had a head-start program to bolster their burying beetle population since 1994. Many other states are doing their part to help bring this little necrophage back from the brink.