Silent Swamps: Where Have All the Frogs Gone?
by Jason Rip
Oh for the comfort of one little “ribbit.”
I remember this particular pond from when I was a child: bullfrogs big as Kaiser buns plopping into the water to avoid my advancing feet, a chorus of frog-song at night, back when the only threats to their existence were cats, herons, and boys with firecrackers.
It’s not being talked about much, but we are in the midst of a global amphibian extinction. The brethren of Diggum and Michigan Jay are going belly up at an alarming rate, so quickly, in fact, that slowing or reversing their decline may be impossible. Concerned herpetologists consider this to be an ecological catastrophe on par with the extinction of the dinosaurs. Rogue comet or not, amphibians remarkably similar to their modern day counterparts managed to survive whatever iced the T-Rex. What they might not be able to survive is the impact of human beings on their ecosystems.
There are multiple theories explaining the Great Croak, but most concur that an increase in ultra-violet radiation coming through that darned thread-bare ozone layer is a major contributing factor. Frogs, toads, and newts are “indicator species,” the first to succumb to global warming and a dire warning as to what the future may hold for those of us who don’t have to breathe through our skins and live in a puddle of industrial run-off.
One leading hypothesis suggests that an increase in Mother Nature’s hot flashes, caused by that bald spot at the bottom of the world, is leading to a bumper crop of chytrid fungus, which can be found in decaying plant matter and appears to enjoy eating the skin and teeth of cute little Kermies. This lethal double whammy of UV radiation and fungal infection also kills amphibian eggs: membranes don’t expand normally and the tiny tadpoles get squished inside.
This same destructive phenomenon is happening all over the world. Brightly-coloured Rain Forest species ( which provide many known and unknown medicines ) are dying off in pristine, untouched areas, sometimes before they can even be properly discovered. The flamboyant red and green phantasmal poison frog, for example, produces epibatidine, a pain-killer 200 times as strong as morphine but without the addictive side effects. This environmental tragedy has little to do with some heartless capitalist dumping toxins into the watershed: there is literally nowhere to hop to in order to escape.
As many as 112 species may have disappeared world-wide since 1980. The equivalent of tens of thousands of years of extinction have been crammed into just a few decades. The scary truth is that global amphibian populations may have declined by as much as 50% since 1950.
Canada is home to 45 species of amphibians – all is not well among Canuck lily pads either. Manitoba’s Northern Leopard Frog was once harvested by the millions to supply labratories and science classrooms across North America. They were the acknowledged kings of dissection material, relegating fetal pigs to a distant second, until gap-jawed guys in hip waders began finding dead frogs stacked a meter high in their hibernation holes. Once ridiculously teeming ( think “Magnolia” ), the Northern Leopard Frog is now on the endangered list. Here in Ontario, the Northern Cricket Frog, found only on Pelee Island, hasn’t been seen since 1987.
As if they didn’t have a hard enough road ahead of them ( why am I thinking about the video game “Frogger” right now? ), male frogs are also faced with the emasculating effects of atrazine, a popular weed-killer that can cause once macho bullfrogs to grow ovaries inside of their testes. It also wreaks havoc with their vocal chords so they can no longer summon a mate. These pond-side Pavarottis have been forever silenced, as well as being subjected to extreme gender confusion.
While international attempts at conservation are slowly beginning, part of the frogs’ problem is a cosmetic one: they are just not conventionally attractive. In fact, they are kind of slimy and bug-eyed. This issue is compounded by the fact that it is no longer widely believed that they turn into Princes when you kiss them. Despite a recent report from the lobby group NatureServe, with the whimsical title of “Disappearing Jewels,” I can’t help but think that Newfoundlanders could come down here and club our frogs without provoking massive outcry or a visit from Paul McCartney.
And toads and newts are in need of even greater image enhancement: toads are still struggling with that “you cause warts” fallacy and newts – well, seriously, how often to you see, think about, or speak to a newt? They’re marginalized in the extreme. If we’re not more attentive to these delicate ecological concerns, in the very near future our children will be reading books entitled “Frog and Toad Are Dead” and “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride To Extinction.”
The life of a frog has always been frought with peril: lawn-mowers, French chefs, high school Biology students. It is, indeed, not easy being green.
