Once long ago, there were commercial cranberry bogs operating in the Suffolk Couty Boglands. They have since been abandoned, as they were no longer profitable, and nature has reclaimed this land for herself. Beginning from a spring that flows forth from the ground water, a little creek flows and converges with others, into a pond that drains out to a tributary of the Peconic River. Along the edges of the pond are Atlantic White Cedar stands (Chamaecyparis thyoides), surrounded by hummocks of Sphagnum moss floating upon the water. The sluice gate mechanisms and channels remain at the pond, their crumbling blocks of concrete and rusted pieces of discarded machinery are all that are left of this industry here.
A shaft of light descends through the canopy of Atlantic White Cedar to illuminate the purple pitcher plant (Sarracenia purpurea), growing in the Sphagnum moss below. It is this location, where the most beautiful and healthy of the remaining populations of pitcher plants on Long Island persist. The yellow flowers of the rush bladderwort (Utricularia juncea), ascend from the wet muck of the bog. Not reported on Long Island since 1992, the little bladderwort flowers later in the season, towards the end of Summer. And, of course, the American Cranberry (Vaccinium macrocarpon), still grow wild, its developing fruits ripening in the late summer sun.
Towards the end of Spring, the Eastern Painted Turtle (Chrysemys picta picta) comes to shore to lay her eggs in the sandy soil at the edge of the pond. Unfortunately for the reptiles, Racoons (Procyon lotor) often dig up their nests to feast upon the eggs. Racoon populations have rapidly increased on Long Island, due to our removal of all their natural predators. Their population densities have risen from an estimated level of between 20-40 per square mile, to current levels of over 100 per square mile. It is not the nuisance of them pillaging our garbage cans that we should concern ourselves with, but the effect of the over-population of these animals on the other creatures in the ecosystems that are now thrown out of balance. A balance that has been disturbed, by the impact of our influence.
Utricularia, the bladderworts, are carnivorous plants which capture their prey through their bladder traps by sucking them in through a trap door, and seizing them in a pod to digest and consume their hapless victims. Some of these plants are aquatic, others are terrestrial, though all have traps that depend on being submerged in water to operate. Here, floating in the water of a sunny pond, is the Common Bladderwort (Utricularia macrorhiza). In this first photograph, we have a close look at the structure of this plant and its traps, bringing us into its aquatic world. For the second photograph, the traps of the Eastern Purple Bladderwort (Utricularia purpurea) are visible floating just beneath the water’s surface. It can be seen how the traps are arranged on branching filaments, emanating from radial whorls along the main stem-like stolon. The third photograph, is of a Green Frog (Rana clamitans) sitting in the suspended muck of a slurry of peat and water, at the edge of a floating Sphagnum bog along a tributary to the Peconic River.
Among the brush at the edge of another nearby pond, a Female American Bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana), is caught by the Northern Water Snake (Nerodia sipedon). A gruesome sight to witness, as the snake slowly drew the still living frog deeper into its mouth, the victim’s panicked cries of fear and desperation becoming fainter as it began to disappear, sliding further down into the serpent’s gullet until it was little more than a silent lump deep in the snake’s belly. This theatric drama of life and death, played itself out mere steps from a boat launch used for recreational fishing by people who wish to enjoy the peaceful tranquility of this pond. It is a harsh reminder of how the laws of nature transpire, whereas an insect will be eaten by the frog, the frog will be eaten by the snake, and the snake will be eaten by the heron. All creatures great and small, are a part of this continuous cycle of life and death. Nature in all its glory, though it may be beautiful, can also seem ruthless in its lack of compassion. It is not from any cruel intention of brutality, but is simply the unforgiving competition of survival of the fittest, to advance life to ever greater complexities, by adapting to overcome the most insurmountable challenges.
Eastern Tiger Salamanders (Ambystoma tigrinum) are among the many interesting creatures found in the Suffolk County Boglands of Long Island, and these are a coastal plain lineage, subspecies (Ambystoma tigrinum tigrinum). They are known as Mole Salamanders, which spend most of their adult lives underground in burrows, except for when they emerge on rainy nights in the late winter, around February or March, to breed and lay their eggs in small ponds. Each female lays an egg mass that can contain up to 100 eggs which hatch in about two to six weeks, from late March to April depending on the water temperatures. The larvae are aquatic and small, measuring around a half an inch at hatching. As they begin to feed, they grow larger, and go through a metamorphosis growing limbs and transforming to terrestrial adults in a few months, usually by July, when they crawl out from the ponds and disperse, to begin their dark, subterranean lives underground.
These specimens seen in the photographs are of the aquatic larval stage, who some people call “water dogs”. Swimming through the water, with large, broad heads, and feathery gills ravenously eating anything that they can fit into their mouths, sometimes even the smaller members of their own species. Small crustaceans, insect larvae, molluscs, leeches, frog tadpoles, and the larvae of other salamander species are some of the many other things that they will eat as well. Their juvenile existence in the pond also consists of avoiding being eaten by predators such as larger aquatic insects, frogs, snakes, and birds. It is a highly competitive struggle for survival that these creatures are destined for, with only a small percentage of them ever reaching adulthood. Their natural predators may present formidable dangers for the salamanders, but it is the human influences that are the greatest threat to their long-term survival. Long ago, it is thought that all vernal ponds with sandy soils on Long Island once had Tiger Salamanders breeding in them. But today it is estimated that only about 90 ponds with breeding populations are left, and of those only about 13% are considered to be of excellent viability. Increasing development and pollution of their habitats are eradicating these strange and rarely seen creatures, at a rate that could unfortunately see them disappear from our local natural wildlands forever.
The serenity of a fresh water pond, on a late Spring day. For us humans, it may seem a tranquil moment of bliss, but for the inhabitants it is a constant struggle for survival. The ecosystem goes on as it has for millennia, a food chain of energy extending through all manner of pond denizens, great and small, which eke out their existence in this symphony of life. Creatures such as the Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias), Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina), American Bull Frog (Rana catesbeiana), Chain Pickerel (Esox niger), Freshwater Leech (Macrobdella decora), and various Dragonfly and Damselfly species (Odonata), are all residents of this pond. All with voracious appetites for their prey, where even the plants can be dangerous predators in this community. It is these carnivorous plants that are of special interest, especially the threadleaf sundew (Drosera filiformis). Of all the ponds on Long Island, this location contains one of the greatest populations of this unusual carnivorous plant.
In the first photograph, we see a prey capture of what looks to be a Pine Barrens Bluet (Enallagma recurvatum) by Drosera filiformis. Though it may struggle, there is little chance that it will ever escape its fate of being consumed by the plant. The second photograph is a cluster of plants, they appear to have divided upon themselves into this mass, creating a formidable wall of death for any insect that may chance upon it. For the third photograph, we see a pleasant portrait of a pair of plants along the sunny pond shore where they live, and the fourth photograph shows Drosera filiformis in their sandy habitat with other interesting plants surrounding them, such as the spoonleaf sundew (Drosera intermedia) and the Meadow Beauty (Rhexia virginica). The final photograph is a view of this coastal plains pond habitat where these plants grow. Surrounded by upland pitch pine-oak forest with understory shrubs, the gently sloping shores of the pond have sandy, nutrient-poor soils, and contain a great diversity of plant life. Some of which have adapted to deviously lure, trap and consume their prey. Another one of the many predators in this complex cycle of life and death, that of which takes place among the serenity of this freshwater pond, on a late Spring day.