Our Town: Saving salamanders Our Town: Saving salamanders (September 17, 2003)

by Sue Dremann

The California tiger salamander in Stanford's foothills may still be crawling toward the U.S. endangered species list, although it might have gotten there already but for the Republicans in Washington.

That's the view of Sean Anderson, a postdoctoral researcher at the Center for Conservation Biology on the Stanford campus.

Anderson predicts the rare salamander will be listed when, or if, a Democratic administration is voted in. The already-small population is declining, although exact causes are unknown, he said. No one is quite sure how many salamanders remain in the Stanford colony, but perhaps no more than 1,000 to 2,000.

Meanwhile, listed or not, Anderson is working on a massive direct-assistance project on their behalf. Each fall during the second significant rainstorm, they come out of subterranean burrows (commandeered from those who dug them) and head for Lake Lagunita for some salamander romance and procreation -- an annual race with time, habitat and possible extinction.

It's a perilous journey. Junipero Serra Boulevard slices between their summer homes and the lake. Each year up to 250 have their romantic hopes literally flattened by vehicles, despite efforts of some students to help them cross and a salamander underpass -- dubbed the "Tunnel of Love" -- built in the fall of 2001. The 50-foot-long metal underpass is an attempt to reduce the mortality. It's not clear if it's working, but it would be best if the salamanders didn't have to cross the road in the first place.

During a recent walk on a sunny summer morning, Anderson -- a man of many ideas -- talked nonstop about his work. Just a hundred feet from Junipero Serra, Anderson is helping create, or re-create, a wetlands area he and Stanford officials hope will provide an additional breeding habitat for the rubbery-looking critters.

A new series of ponds and gradually sloping wetlands, covering three to five acres, is being designed to capture winter runoff. Amid sedges, rushes and other riparian flora, Anderson hopes the little creatures will find the love they seek.

There are reasons for hope. The adobe soil -- so hard when dry a jackhammer was needed to break it up this summer -- has excellent water-retention properties. And maps from the 1700s show numerous springs in the area.

Removal of native vegetation and land degradation over two centuries caused the local water table to drop, drying up the springs. Anderson hopes to raise the water-table with pond seepage, and return the area to habitat attractive to the salamanders.

The area being prepared for the lower wetland is dotted with native bunchgrasses. In a channel dug earlier by Stanford researchers, sedges poke out in dense mats -- indicating subsurface water. They are the only green plants in the tawny field.

Anderson believes the field soon will be a sea of green. In late September, tractors will begin shaping the area. Anderson and colleagues have salvaged more than 12,000 native grasses and sedges for replanting. By early November, members of the public will be invited to a "planting party" via the Center's Web site, www.stanford.edu/group/CCB/.

Some question Stanford's motives. Brian Schmidt, legislative advocate for the Committee for Green Foothills, wonders if the university is trying to shift environmental concerns away from Lake Lagunita and the core campus so the threatened salamander won't be as much of an issue in future development plans.

Part of the impetus for the ponds/wetlands project is a requirement of the university's general use permit from Santa Clara County. But Anderson believes there also has been a gradual shift in the university's thinking. Prodded by university biologists pushing the importance of habitat, Stanford has set aside more than 700 acres for restoration of native habitats, and is committed to buying needed native seeds, he noted.

The salamanders won't care about motives if they like the renewed lushness, the replanted rushes and sedges. It's not known if the urge to mate at Lake Lagunita -- itself man-made -- is hardwired into the salamanders' DNA.

Anderson hopes it isn't -- that they'll decide to try his shorter, safer-sex alternative. If you build it, will they come?

Sue Dremann is calendar editor and a staff writer at the Weekly. She can be e-mailed at sdremann@paweekly.com.