Monitoring the Health of Amphibians at the Wye Marsh

13 May 2016

Friends of the Wye Marsh volunteers describe the action in the marsh as they listen for frog calls.

As part of our commitment to study, research, and conserve all of the species that inhabit the marsh, we rely on the generosity and kindness of volunteers to assist us.

For many years, Dale Recchia and Francis Stringer have conducted amphibian and bird studies on behalf of the Wye Marsh Wildlife Centre for Bird Studies Canada. Below is their first-hand account of their experiences monitoring amphibian species.

What We Do at the Wye Marsh

It’s a cold sunny Friday afternoon at the end of April. The sun beats down on the parking lot as it sinks slowly toward the surrounding trees. The sound of overnighting cub scouts mingles with the honking of new Canada geese parents grazing with their offspring on the lush grasses nearby.

The sun sinks below the horizon as we walk through the still naked trees to the old bird blind on the shore of the canoe channel. Last year’s leaves lie brown and dead on the forest floor waiting for new life to push to the surface and feed on the rich mulch. A patch of green catches the eye as plants come to life in a secluded corner. The trilliums and fiddleheads lurk just beneath the surface waiting to push their way toward the sky. Within a month, this trail will be surrounded by metre-high ferns.

Someone has been working on the boardwalk near the canoe channel. A pile of cedar planks forms a handy bench as we check the temperature. The thermometer hovers between 6 and 7 degrees. If the mercury dips below 5 degrees, we cannot conduct an amphibian survey. The spring peepers have misread the handbook and are already starting to call out in search of a mate although the sun has only just set.

Eager Peepers Excitedly Chirp

We wait with bated breath as the chorus intensifies. The pinks and purples of twilight reflect off the pools of still water. An earlier wind has died down and the air is still and crisp. Last year’s cattails lie flattened by winter snow and ice, allowing for a long view across the marsh. Nesting geese honk and squabble over territorial boundaries. From a distance comes the distinctive trumpeting of swans.

The calls of the peepers continue to intensify. The moment has arrived. Stopwatch in hand, we commence a three-minute count and listen for the calls of frogs. Masked by the din of peeper calls comes the occasional snore from a northern leopard frog. We listen for other calls, but so far, they are inaudible or they’re not yet ready to mate.

The three minutes ends. We pack up our gear and begin to walk to the next research station through the gathering gloom. The path is rough and full of the holes made by old snapping turtle nests. In the dark, we disturb a pair of Canada geese with two remaining goslings and they swim away, protesting. As we approach the canoe docks, the sound of honking trumpeter swans increase. There are 10 pairs of swans in the old treatment centre pond. As they swim around, their watery dance shifts from one of head bobbing in pair bond reinforcement, to trumpeting warnings to other swans that inch a little too close.

The Night Closes In

On solid ground again and on the boardwalk, we move quietly toward the next station on the first bridge. On the open marsh, it is still not entirely dark and the geese continue to call. The air is still and the view is breathtakingly immense. In the distance, the lights from the Martyrs’ Shrine and a parking lot gleam on and reflect sharply off the surface of the water.

We arrive at the first bridge. The sound of peepers is still overwhelming but more distant. The bullfrogs and green frogs have not yet begun to call, and the calls of leopard frogs are hard to distinguish from the background noises. We conduct our three-minute survey and move on.

We are on the new boardwalk. The transition is startling. It’s like being on the Great Wall of China. The old boardwalk was almost underwater. Now we are a metre above the surface on a wide, flat open road. We conduct a third survey and head toward the far bird blind. Now we need flashlights to see. The night starts to close in on us. The berm is difficult to traverse in the dark, and we are relieved to arrive at our destination.

At our final survey point, we realize that our hands are cold, and we can see our breath. The frogs are also noticing the change, and the chorus begins to fade. In the nick of time, we conduct our last survey. We stop to appreciate the moment. The dark, the astonishing beauty of the marsh, the noises of the night, reinforce how privileged we are to share this time with the marsh animals as they settle down uneasily for the evening, constantly aware of the presence of predators.

On our return along the boardwalk, we are treated to the startled cry of a Virginia rail in the cattails, and the distant slap of a beaver tail on the still water before we thankfully regain the warmth of our car after a successful evening on the marsh.

Become a Friends of the Wye Marsh volunteer and help us protect this important habitat and continue making a visit the Wye Marsh Wildlife Centre a thoroughly enjoyable and educational experience. There are volunteer opportunities aplenty for both adults and youth. Contact our Volunteer Coordinator if you have questions.