In some of the shallows the spring-run bottom was blackened by Black Toad Tadpoles
On the way eastward we again spiraled our way upward (stopping at just under 11,000 feet!) to see the forests of the ancient Bristlecone Pines. Some of these twisted yet stately trees are more than 4,000 years old. They survive, in fact thrive only, at altitudes and temperatures unsuitable for most other trees and mammals, but are visited (at least in summer) by Clark’;s nutcrackers, a raucous raven and jay relative.

Photos taken, we then descended to a less ear-popping elevation to look up Black Toads, Bufo exsul, a protected species. The BLM access to the spring fed flat on which the narrow spring run that was home to this population of toads, was rocky and uncomfortable. But along it we saw a Northern Desert Horned Lizard, Phrynosoma platyrhinos calidiarum and some beautiful cactus blossoms.

The black toad, a species that is active both diurnally and nocturnally, is aptly named, being black dorsally with varied marblings of white and gray and a white vertebral line. Ventrally the color is white with extensive and varied black smudging. Adults are rather small, often being a mere 2 to 2 ½” in length. We did see a few of the adults as well as hundreds of metamorphs and what seemed thousands of tadpoles. Unfortunately occasional flooding carries toads and tadpoles onto the not too distant salt flat where they quickly succumb. As untenable as this may sound, this population of the Black Toad has probably existed under these conditions for centuries. It was formally described in 1942.

The breeding call, seldom heard, is a high pitched repetitive “trill” that is best described as a rapid-chuckle. After photos were made we moved onward.

Tiny but a lifer, a pint-sized example of the Mt. Lyell Salamander
More Californ-I-A

The next day was spent first in the beauty of snow-capped mountains and later at lower elevations on some saline flats.

We had found a few of the more common toad and treefrog species and Jake wanted to add at least one salamander species to the trip total. So with the help of Mike, Jake pinpointed a tiny montane creek in the upper elevations of the Inyos. Thanx, Mike, I think. I think the term “up, up, and away” applies here, because we ascended, leveled, then ascended some more. Black-billed magpies flew overhead. The road spiraled upward, getting narrower as it gained elevation. Temperatures dropped then dropped again, Rain—cold rain—began falling. Trees were largely replaced by talus slides. Finally Jake said “OK, stop here. There’s a path somewhere.”

OK, here we were and there was actually a freshet tumbling downward. Then Jake broke the news. It was the wrong creek. The one we needed to access was much further up the mountain and around in back of the next peak over. But we had to walk from here. Well, that certainly placed the locale beyond my current ability. But Jake was “gung-ho” so to speak. And away he went. An hour later he returned wet but wearing a smile. After looking hard and hoping for an adult, he has found only a 1” long metamorph. But no matter the size, it, an Owens Valley phase of the Mt. Lyell Salamander, Hydromantes platycephalus, another lifer for him.

Deep Springs area, a roadside oasis, provided another lifer, this time for both of us. This was the Panamint Rattlesnake, Crotalus stephensi. Except for tail pattern and facial scalation this pretty and variable rattler is remarkably similar to the speckled rattler, C. pyrrhus. In fact, for decades both were subspecies of what was then the wide-ranging C. mitchelli. Jake found the single example seen by us coiled half in the shade of some chaparral. We looked hard for an example of the Panamint alligator lizard, Elgaria panamintinus, but failed to find one of these early-risers. I had seen this pretty and locally distributed lizard on an earlier trip but it would have been a lifer for Jake.

Again we headed eastward, slightly downward, then wayyyyy upwards.