The Newts of Strawberry Canyon

Japanese Pool

Paul Licht

 A dozen of us gathered recently on the steps of the UC Botanical Garden’s shop to hear Professor Paul Licht talk about one of his favorite subjects—newts. It was a fine day for newts with a light rain falling.  Wearing a wide-brimmed rain hat and startling-blue gloves, Licht, after his introductory remarks, led us up the path to the Japanese pool where the action is taking place. The pool with its water lilies conceals the newts until you look closely. Then you begin to see the brown and orange amphibians engaged in their annual breeding ritual. Using his green net, Licht scoops up the fruits of their labor—the gelatinous golf ball-size mass of eggs. When he turns the glob over you can see the already-developing larvae wiggling.

Licht is clearly in his element.  As a UC professor of zoology in an “earlier life” he received the prestigious Berkeley Citation for his work with vertebrates. He has seamlessly become a plant man and is at present the energetic and creative Garden director.

As we stand at the muddy edge of the pool, Licht explains that there are two kinds of newts in the pool—California Newts (Taricha toroso) which are the most numerous, and the so-called rough-skinned newts (Taricha granulosa).  Only an expert can distinguish them, but “they lay their eggs differently,” he explains. Extracting a wet strip of an aquatic plant, Licht shows how the tiny white eggs are laid individually and each is then wrapped in a leaf.

Vigorous activity draws our attention to two male newts who appear to have a female in their grasp. One male will successfully persevere and he will ride her back while rubbing her snout with his chin. His chin has a gland that releases a hormone which quiets her and stimulates her to follow him. Quite a courtship!

Licht explains that the courting newts will drop to the bottom of the pool together, with the male leading the way as he deposits tiny packets of sperm which the female will pick up in her vent to fertilize her eggs.

Licht nets a male who strenuously objects by twisting about.  “Notice how his tail has lengthened and flattened to become like a swimming fin,” Licht says, “and his forward legs have become more muscular so he can grasp and hold the female.” (Holding the wriggling male, Licht explains that the blue gloves are to protect his hands—“Berkeley newts are especially toxic.”)

Once the female has laid her eggs, she leaves the pool to return to her solitary life.  The males will leave later.  A few will remain through the summer.

Secreting themselves under a rock or in a crack in the soil, the newts remain inactive during the long, dry summer until  fall “when they hear rain on the roof,” quips Licht.  Then they begin their long, slow trudge downhill returning year after year to the exact same spot.

—Phila Rogers