2025 City Nature Challenge Recap for Kansas City Metro (Vertebrates and Plants)

The City Nature Challenge is an annual event that I always look forward to, when I have no conflicting engagements. I tend to plan around it, in fact. This year’s edition was held from Friday, April 27, through Monday, April 30.

Prothonotary Warbler at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Some background is in order for those unfamiliar with this urban bioblitz. What began in 2016 as a friendly challenge between the California cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles has blossomed into a global project. The intent is to generate public interest in native urban flora and fauna, document as many species as possible during the event period, and build a database useful for assessing environmental trends both locally and globally.

A young Common Five-lined Skink under a chunk of wood, Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Here in Kansas City, I am fortunate that the official map area includes counties a fair distance from the city. It is mostly rural in Leavenworth County, Kansas, where we live, but the town itself is at least suburban. Heidi and I usually travel to other areas, too, like Wyandotte County, Kansas, and Platte County, Missouri.

Louisiana Waterthrush at Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

The weather this year was less than optimal, overcast virtually the entire time, cool temperatures in the low sixties (Fahrenheit), and occasional rain. Perhaps that is why public engagement was low. The stats are still coming in to iNaturalist, the web platform that hosts the observations for the event, but we had less than 300 people who contributed sightings. As a percentage of the human population, that is pretty dismal.

Blooming Mayapple in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Still, there is a current total of 3,744 observatios of 1,084 species (however iNaturalist defines that term, and it probably varies by taxon). Help in identifying observations has come from 349 individuals, from all over the globe. The border of Kansas and Missouri represents the eastern fringe of the Great Plains meeting the western edge of the eastern deciduous forest, so we have some diverse and interesting habitats.

Virginia Springbeauty, Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Personally, given the inclement weather, I looked at plants more heavily than I usually do. It helped that I now have an iPhone that takes photos which are comparable in quality to those produced by my Canon PowerShot SX70 camera. I think it performs better than the camera in some instances.

Blue Phlox, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

When Heidi and I went out together, we focused on birds. This was especially true at Wyandotte County Lake Park in Kansas, and at Weston Bend State Park in Missouri. Both parks are heavily forested, with a large reservoir at one, and small streams running through the other.

A flock of six female Red-breasted Mergansers was a wonderful surprise at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

I don’t like that the City Nature Challenge brings out my competitive nature, but I feel compelled to demonstrate to other local citizens that insects and spiders are worth looking at. Consequently, I had the most observations for the Greater Kansas City Metro Area, and the second highest species tally. You can find the results for everyone at this link.

Swainson's Thrush at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

It is a good thing that the nature challenge was not a week later. I went back to Havens Park here in Leavenworth yesterday, May 5, to find that a new gravel road had been laid, right through a small, ephemeral wetland, and over glade habitat at the top of the park. I am devastated and angry. Rumor has it that it will eventually be another paved trail for cyclists, dog walkers, and others. I am all for accessibility, when it does not compromise ecosystems. I don’t know that I will go back to the park now, but there is nothing similar within walking distance of our home (I don’t ride a bike, nor drive any longer, and we only have one car anyway). Pretty much everything else here is lawns.

A male Summer Tanager, Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

One thing that appears sorely lacking for the City Nature Challenge is widespread publicity. There is a wonderful team of individuals at the Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History that organizes the event each year, but they can only do so much. They have to register cities, for example, which is a demanding chore all by itself. It is up to the individual metropolitan areas to do their own marketing.

A male Northern Parula at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Did you participate this year? Have you done so in years past? Please feel free to share your experiences in the comments. Meanwhile, you can find my insect and spider observations from City Nature Challenge over on my Bug Eric blog.

Mountain Bikers & Trail Runners: Slow Down for Snakes!

Here in Colorado, at least along the Front Range, we enjoy a variety of "wilderness" recreational opportunities from hiking to rock climbing. Sometimes differing modes of trail enjoyment come into conflict, and sometimes the wildlife suffers even worse consequences. Here I will relate why people traveling over trails at high speed (mountain bikers and trail runners specifically) need to understand their potential impacts on reptiles in particular.

Baby gartersnake basking on trail

I have been fortunate to encounter at least four species of snakes along popular trails in various parks and open spaces. Snakes make use of patches of earth unobstructed by vegetation in order to bask, warming their bodies for active hunting later, to help digest a meal, or otherwise regulate their metabolism. Trails are ideal for this purpose and it is not uncommon to find serpents stretched across the full width of a trail.

Obviously, venomous snakes such as the Prairie Rattlesnake also pose a threat to people using trails. Trail runners must be mindful of the potential to encounter rattlesnakes, especially in early morning or early evening hours, and on overcast days. I personally recall one afternoon when a trail runner passed me, and I almost tripped over a Prairie Rattlesnake shortly thereafter. I suspect the runner never saw it.

A handsome Prairie Rattlesnake stretched across a trail

When traversing terrain at a high rate of speed, it is essentially impossible to notice a snake or other small organism on the trail. If it is noticed it may be mistaken for a branch or other object. Snakes are generally well-camouflaged and overlooked even by those seeking to find them.

Besides the fact that a snake cannot move rapidly enough to avoid an oncoming bicycle tire, or running shoe, it is usually not programmed to do so behaviorally. A snake's primary defense against a perceived threat is to rely on camouflage and stillness in hopes the predator or danger does not detect it. So, snakes are, figuratively if not literally, "sitting ducks" when it comes to oblivious mountain bikers and trail runners.

Aw-w-w, a basking baby gophersnake

There is evidence that other types of small animals also suffer from collisions or other encounters with mountain bikers and trail runners. While my chief personal interest is in insects and spiders, and I find a great deal of carnage related to even regular bicyclists, most invertebrate species have robust, widespread populations that can withstand even heavy mortality. Not so with many reptiles, small mammals, ground-nesting birds, and other organisms. Remember that all animals are subject to many non-human mortality factors as well: Predators, parasites, disease, and infertility for example.

Gartersnake smile

What can you do to avoid conflict and still enjoy yourself? Consider recreating at a time of day when reptiles are not normally active. Yes, that means late morning through afternoon during the warmer months. Winter riding means little or no conflict with wildlife. Slow down, especially in open habitats such as prairies, meadows, and glades, south- or east-facing hillsides, and along rock outcrops. Ride only on trails designated for mountain biking (but you do that already, I'm sure). If there is a park headquarters, visitors center, or nature center, consult with personnel there to find out which trails are best, and whether there is frequent wildlife activity along them.

Thank you for reconsidering your riding and running habits and becoming more "wildlife-friendly" to other creatures. Those of us who share the trails but move at a slower pace and enjoy our encounters with animals will be grateful for your thoughtfulness.

Prairie Rattlesnake thanks you for your courtesy

Sources: Burgin, Shelley and Nigel Hardiman. 2012. "Is the evolving sport of mountain biking compatible with fauna conservation in national parks?," Australian Zoologist 36(2): 201-208.
Craver, Monica. 2009. "The Impacts of Mountain Biking on Amphibians and Reptiles, 2008," e-mail to Council ATdnv.org
Davenport, John and T. Adam Switalski. 2006. "Environmental Impacts of Transport, Related to Tourism and Leisure Activities," in Davenport, John and Julia L. The Ecology of Transportation: Managing Mobility for the Environment. Dordrecht: Springer. pp. 333-360.
Goode, Matthew J., Jeffrey M. Howland, and Michael J. Sredl. 1995. Effects of Microhabitat Destruction on Reptile Abundance in Sonoran Desert Rock Outcrops. Nongame and Endangered Wildlife Program Heritage Report. Arizona Game and Fish Department, Phoenix, Arizona.
Vandeman, M.J. 2011. "The Impacts of Mountain Biking on Wildlife and People - A Review of the Literature," ARPN Journal of Science and Technology 4(7): 418-426.

Tucson Reptile and Amphibian Show 2010

Saturday, September 25, I had to choose among several nature-oriented events around the Tucson area. My selection was the annual Tucson Reptile and Amphibian Show at the Expo Center in South Tucson. While the overwhelming majority of participants were vendors of live reptiles, arachnids, and terraria and other products related to keeping pet “herps,” the educational exhibits were quite enthralling.

The Tucson Herpetological Society featured several live reptiles native to Arizona, including this Great Basin Rattlesnake, Crotalus oreganus lutosus.

I just looked up the scientific name for that serpent in the book Rattlesnakes of the United States & Canada, authored by Manny Rubio. I purchased that outstanding reference at the Reptile Show as well, and Manny was on hand all day signing copies.

The most impressive exhibits were furnished by the Phoenix Herpetological Society. This organization even runs a sanctuary for unwanted reptiles. I suspect that some of the more dangerous specimens were probably seizures in raids on drug-smuggling rings since trafficking in narcotics and exotic pets often go hand-in-hand. Macho dealers often want pets symbolic of their toughness, and/or dangerous pets to guard their stashes of illegal substances, cash and weapons. In any event, the animals the PHS brought to Tucson were truly amazing.

I am not readily intimidated by reptiles, but one specimen had me a little nervous and totally in awe. It was a Reticulated Python, Python reticulatus, raised from a hatchling by the gentleman standing next to it at the exhibit. The snake is now seventeen years old, just shy of 19 feet in length, and weighing in at 260 pounds. I estimate the snake’s head was at least as large as my size 7 ½ shoe. The snake’s name was “Tiny.” No, I’m kidding!

The python was in a compartment on a long trailer that included many other snakes and lizards. Among them was this gorgeous albino Western Diamondback Rattlesnake, Crotalus atrox.
Aberrations like this don’t usually survive long in the wild, but they make excellent ambassadors for their species in an educational venue.

Most of the animals in the show were in plain enclosures that facilitate easy cleaning and optimal viewing by the public (no place for the reptile to hide). This did not make for the best photo ops, but I was happy to get some of the results I did given the obvious “in captivity” look, smudges on the glass from countless children’s noses and hands, and often poor lighting. Still, a King Cobra, Ophiophagus Hannah, has an overwhelming presence in any setting.

A couple of small crocodilians and an enormous Alligator Snapping Turtle complemented the snakes, but it was the vipers that I found most amazing. Take this Mangshan Pit Viper, Trimeresurus mangshanensis, for example. Found only on Mt. Mang in the Hunan Province of China, it is literally “something you don’t see every day.”

Likewise, this bright yellow example of an Eyelash Viper, Bothriechis schlegelii, is best encountered behind glass in a nicely-landscaped terrarium, as opposed to wrapped around a branch at eye-level along a jungle trail in Central or South America.

There are more images of other snakes over at my Flickr photostream. I’d like to thank my friend Leigh Anne DelRay for reminding me of the show to begin with, and sharing the experience with me last Saturday. I encourage everyone to visit their own local reptile show and take a friend or young person with them. It can make a lasting impression to come face-to-face with native and exotic wildlife at such events.

Night of the Toads

I was fortunate enough to attend the annual Invertebrates in Education and Conservation Conference in Rio Rico late last month, and participate in a couple of the spontaneous field trips that happen, especially after dark. One such excursion, led by my good friend Zack Lemann of the Audubon Institute Insectarium in New Orleans. We were looking for certain beetles, and had success, but reptiles and amphibians were also in abundance. Chief among those were toads.

We drove north from the conference headquarters in Rio Rico toward Madera Canyon, stopping at a service station at an exit in Green Valley. There, right by the interstate, we found the cactus longhorn beetles Zack was after, but there were also several Couch’s Spadefoots (Scaphiopus couchi) dining on the many insects drawn to the lights of the gas station.

Spadefoots are technically frogs in the family Pelobatidae. They lack the large parotoid glands of true toads (located just behind the eyes and visible as large, elliptical bulges). What truly sets them apart from other amphibians, however, is the dark, hardened tubercle on the underside of the heel of each hind foot. These “spades” help the animal dig into and out of the mud.

Couch’s Spadefoot is exceedingly tolerant of long dry spells, emerging during the soaking monsoon downpours that typically begin in early or mid-July here in the Sonoran Desert. They erupt from low-lying areas as those ditches and depressions fill with water and soak into the soil, softening it. The spadefoots have been buried fairly deep in the soil awaiting the rains.

Males call to females with a voice that has been likened to a “bleating sheep with a cold.” Real attractive. It works, though, at least on female spadefoots. Females lay eggs in the temporary puddles and the ova hatch twelve to twenty-four hours later. The tadpoles, in a race against the evaporation of their aquatic niche, metamorphose to miniature adults in as little as eight days. Before the mud dries and cracks, the spadefoots dig in. Underground they are able to tolerate at least a year without food or water until the rains once again return.

From Green Valley, our party moved on to a retirement community in the small town of Continental. The lights in the parking lots of the community attract many insects, and not surprisingly toads are wise to this fact. Under one light I found this Great Plains Toad, Bufo cognatus.

I am grateful that the toad was quiet, for I have read that the calls of males are lengthy, extremely loud, and likened to a jackhammer. Unlike spadefoots, members of the genus Bufo are true toads in the family Bufonidae, characterized by “warty” skin and those prominent parotoid glands. Otherwise, the life cycle and habits of the Great Plains Toad closely resembles that of Couch’s Spadefoot. The tadpoles take longer to mature, but the adult toads likewise spend the bulk of their lives underground awaiting heavy rains. They make the most of their time aboveground, eating a huge amount of insect and arachnid prey to get them through lean times.

Conspicuously absent from the landscape on this particular night (July 28-29) were the enormous Sonoran Desert Toads, Bufo alvarius that usually dominate the scene. Formerly known as the Colorado River Toad, this species has apparently been rendered extinct in much of the Colorado River corridor (along with the water which now does not even reach the Gulf of Mexico). These are huge animals, mature adults often measuring seven inches….in just about any direction so great is their girth. Some specimens would find a dinner plate a somewhat confining perch. They are not easy to photograph, either, as they turn away from flashes. I imaged this one in Picture Rocks.

Sonoran Desert Toads are nothing to trifle with, especially if you are a dog. They have incredibly toxic skin secretions. The hallucinogenic properties of those toxins are well-known to the medical community, too. Stupid people who engage in “toad-licking” get what they deserve. Pets that don’t know better can die from ingested toad toxins.

A really great online article about the Sonoran Desert Toad can be found here at The Firefly Forest website. Information about the other anurans (science-speak for “frogs and toads”) treated here can be found on the website of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

Sources:
Brennan, Thomas C. & Andrew T. Holycross. 2006. Amphibians and Reptiles in Arizona. Phoenix: Arizona Game & Fish Department. 150 pp.
Hanson, Jonathan and Roseann. 1997. Fifty Common Reptiles & Amphibians of the Southwest. Tucson: Southwest Parks and Monuments Association. 63 pp.

Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake

A little Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake, Lampropeltis pyromelana, may be the most striking (no pun intended) reptile find of my life thus far. This beautiful serpent was hiding under a slab of bark on a stump at Middle Bear along the Mount Lemmon Highway in the Santa Catalina Mountains just north of Tucson. I was there with MJ Epps on May 26, 2010, just before her departure for the summer. Thank you, Mary Jane, for holding the snake so gently while I took pictures.

The only other specimen of this snake that I have ever seen is one held in captivity by another friend, Pat Sullivan, in Sierra Vista. His is definitely an adult, whereas this “wild” one was just a youngster.

The bold black, white, and red color pattern on this species is obviously meant to mimic the markings of the venomous Sonoran Coralsnake, Micruroides euryxanthus. There are many mnemonic devices used to differentiate the two, or at least kingnsakes and coralsnakes in general. The one that I remember from childhood is:

Red and yellow kill a fellow,
Red and black, venom lack.

The color reference denotes the sequence of bands. Kingsnakes have red markings adjacent to black bands. Coralsnakes have red markings meeting yellow (or ivory) bands. No, it is not always easy to make the distinction when the serpent is moving at a high rate of speed and making its escape into a burrow or other inaccessible retreat.

Pine forests in middle and high elevations (3,000 to 9,000 feet) of the “sky islands” of southeast Arizona seem to be a good habitat for this species. It is a day-active reptile capable of climbing trees to feast on nestling birds. Its diet also includes lizards, rodents, and occasionally bats. It kills by constricting its prey with ever-tightening coils of its body. At up to 43 inches in length, it is a fairly sizable snake as an adult.

The Sonoran Mountain Kingsnake does hibernate during the cooler months in autumn and winter, and reproduces in late spring and early summer. Females lay clutches of two to nine eggs in June or early July, the hatchlings appearing in late July or August.

Besides Arizona, this snake ranges into Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, and Mexico.

I grew up in Oregon, and I remember wanting very much to find a California Mountain Kingsnake, Lampropeltis zonata up there. Well, finding this little fella (gal?) might just make up for that childhood wish.

Rattlesnake

I consider it a privilege any time I encounter reptiles of any sort, but especially venomous ones. Maybe it is because I have been a “city kid” most of my life, and grew up in Portland, Oregon where rattlesnakes are rare, if not extirpated entirely, but I consider rattlers, copperheads, and cottonmouths to be beautiful serpents.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a very healthy respect for any creature that can kill me. Even in snakebite cases that do not end in fatalities, the experience changes the victim forever (or it should). The venom of most pit vipers (family Viperidae, subfamily Crotalinae) is “cytotoxic,” meaning that it destroys living tissue. This helps the snake in killing prey and beginning the digestion process before the serpent even eats its meal.

My most recent encounter was with a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake, Crotalus atrox, courtesy of my friend Margarethe Brummermann. We were walking her dogs (or vice versa) across her property and adjacent state land on the evening of May 22, 2010. The instant Margarethe exclaimed “Rattler!” I saw the snake, stretched out on the other side of a small shrub.

It was not an impressively large specimen, only about three feet long as I estimate it, but it certainly stood its ground at my approach. I was impressed that Margarethe’s dogs (the three that had stayed with us and not taken off on their own) sat patiently while I took images of the increasingly agitated reptile.

Rattlesnakes look plenty calm and placid when you come upon them, but can instantly slither into a striking coil. The sheer speed at which rattlers operate, and their maneuverability, is amazing. I once witnessed a Black-tailed Rattlesnake crawl backwards while maintaining a striking pose. This Western Diamondback gave an equally awe-inspiring display, rising from the ground in the classic S-curve of movie Westerns. I think even my camera was intimidated. That is the theory I have for why most of my images did not have the entire snake in focus.

I felt no need to further antagonize the snake, so left it in peace after about five minutes. I do wish more people did the same. Residents of Tucson suburbs and more rural areas frequently dispatch rattlesnakes on their property. Those with slightly more humane intentions call Rural Metro Fire to have the snakes removed and relocated. Budget cuts have rendered snake removal services almost non-existent this year, and research has shown that snakes relocated a substantial distance from their home range will often die anyway as they fail to compete with other rattlers, or are unable to find their way back to their winter den site.

One can argue convincingly that rattlesnakes are valuable animals to have around. They are very efficient predators of rodents like wood rats (aka “pack rats”) that otherwise wreak havoc by chewing the electrical cables inside vehicles, steal shiny objects, and harbor other pests like kissing bugs (assassin bugs in the genus Triatoma). Personally, I’d rather tolerate rattlesnakes than have to expend the time, energy, and cost to eliminate a rodent problem myself.

There is, of course, the flip side of the coin. The physical and financial anguish in the aftermath of a snake bite cannot be overlooked. Rattlers often deliver “dry bites” in self-defense, saving their venom for predatory activities. This is by no means the norm, however, and envenomation is nothing to trifle with.

It takes little time for the venom to have a catastrophic effect on a human victim. A bitten extremity swells to grotesque proportions as blood seeps from perforated veins and arteries into surrounding tissue. This damage cannot always be mitigated, and it is not unusual for medical personnel to amputate a digit or more in the interest of saving the person’s life. Antivenin, mostly derived from horse serum, usually prevents a lethal outcome, but if you happen to be allergic to horses like I am, things can get complicated. Then there is the cost: Evacuation to the hospital (often by air), administration of antivenin, and a hospital stay of several days or weeks. I hear that an average snakebite ordeal costs over $100,000. I’m certainly not going to confront a snake with that potential pricetag.

Unfortunately, our collective society seems bent on ridding the world of these marvelous animals. I urge my followers to show support for organizations like Rise Against Rattlesnake Roundups, and educate their friends and neighbors on rattlesnake avoidance for people and pets. Want to read more? Consider The Red Hourglass: Lives of the Predators by Gordon Grice (New York: Delacorte Press, 1998) and Zero at the Bone: Rewriting Life After a Snakebite by Erec Toso (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2007). Thank you.

Spring Peepers

One of the many things I love about Facebook is that my nature-loving friends will note harbingers of the changing seasons. Lately, I have begun reading that some folks are already hearing spring peepers, a type of treefrog. Given the harsh winter this year, a more appropriate reaction might be “It’s about time.”

Spring peepers bear the scientific name Pseudacris crucifer, in reference to the “X,” or cross-like pattern usually evident on the backs of these diminutive amphibians. Mature adults are only two or three centimeters in length, but they make up for their small size with a big voice.

Males broadcast in synchronized choruses from a variety of wetland situations throughout most of North America east of the Mississippi River. The sound can carry up to a quarter of a mile. What you normally hear is the courtship song designed to attract females. The males are quite protective of their small territories, however, and another intruding frog will elicit a short trill of aggression.

Making a racket is risky, though, as you can also attract predators. So, there is something of a ventriloquistic element. Just try finding one in the act of calling, even when it is in close proximity, on the ground or on vegetation.

After mating, females lay clusters of eggs in a gelatinous mass under water, attached to aquatic vegetation or at the bottom of a small pond. In fact, a favored habitat of this species is vernal pools, temporary wetlands in an otherwise forested habitat.

Egg-laying can continue into the summer months, but the tadpoles hatch in 7-10 days, taking from five to eight weeks to metamorphose into tiny versions of the adult. The larvae are highly vulnerable to aquatic predators including turtles, salamander larvae, and even large insects like dragonfly nymphs.

You would think that tiny frogs known as “spring peepers” would be found in….spring. Apparently they are not limited to that season, since Dave Small, Lynn Harper and myself found one in a meadow in the neighborhood of the Quabbin Reservoir on the fourth of October, 2009. Prior to that, my initial encounter with Pseudacris crucifer had been at Dave’s home, where at least one frog sat patiently beneath the mercury vapor light, awaiting any errant insects that were attracted to it.

Here’s wishing that you hear your own springtime serenade any day now.

Happy New (Herp) Year

I had the pleasure of starting the new year among friends congregated at the Sierra Vista, Arizona home of Pat Sullivan and Lisa Lee. I got to make some new friends, too, including some of the cold-blooded variety.

Pat Sullivan has a wonderful collection of pinned insects, especially scarab beetles (see ”Bug Rooms”), but he also keeps a handful of live snakes. You can’t help but be captivated by such colorful serpents as this kingsnake.

The last time I saw Pat he had sworn-off keeping venomous reptiles, but he had two on display this time. One was a truly lovely specimen of a sidewinder.
The other was a small but beautiful black-tailed rattlesnake. I have to admit I have a real fascination with the pit vipers, but have a healthy respect, too. I happen to be allergic to horses, from which antivenin is produced. Should I ever be bitten by a rattlesnake I would be in serious trouble! Behind the glass of a terrarium they can be admired closely, but safely.

Among the human guests I met was Bev Wigney, a very accomplished nature photographer who has some of her spectacular insect images in my Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America. We had corresponded over the internet, but it was serendipitous that we wound up meeting in person at the New Year’s party. Bev spends a good deal of time in Bisbee, Arizona, as well as in her home country of Canada. Be sure to check out her own blog, Journey to the Center.

After a night of eating, trading stories, and midnight toasting, some of us tucked ourselves in there at Pat and Lisa’s for the remainder of the night. This was the view I awoke to the next morning. What a way to start the year. I hope that your year starts as sweetly, and that you find 2010 to be exciting and prosperous, but also stress-free.