Fussy frogs and wet wetlands

Floodplain wetlands in semi-arid and arid regions are important habitats for a variety of wildlife, including frogs. Managing these important habitats requires that we know how wildlife respond to their patterns of natural flows, but surprisingly we don’t have a good understanding of this relationship for many species. While it makes sense that frogs would like inundated wetlands, we don’t actually know if this is the case in many systems, so I set out to determine which species were fond of good flow conditions and which weren’t. I found that while the Macquarie Marshes, a large floodplain wetland with huge conservation significance in inland NSW, supported a diverse range of frogs, not all species responded to flooding in the same way. Knowing this helps us understand which species are more likely to benefit from managed water flows, and which aren’t.

If you’ve been around frogs for a while, then you’ll know that if it has rained a lot, you’ll see and hear a whole different set of frog species than if it hasn’t. Also if it is still 26⁰C at midnight rather than 12⁰C, again the frogs that you see and hear will be quite different. Figuring out which species you are likely to see in what conditions is important, particularly when you want to determine how to conserve them; just because you didn’t see them, it doesn’t mean they weren’t there, which is especially true for burrowing frogs!

In order to determine how we might be able to manage frog populations by releasing upstream waters (in dams) to replicate natural flows (‘environmental flows’), I needed first to understand how natural floods affect different frog species living in large complex floodplain wetland systems. I wanted to make sure that any managed flows would actually benefit (or not) the frogs that live there. I also needed to know how things like temperature or rainfall or water depth affected how likely I was to see different species.

To do this, I (and my crew of amazing field assistants) spent a lot of afternoons and evenings sloshing through different parts of wetlands and around waterholes in the Macquarie Marshes in NSW. We did this during a large natural flood, and recorded data on weather, vegetation and water as well as all the frogs we came across.

Sloshing around the Southern Lagoons

During four months of surveys at 30 sites in the Macquarie Marshes, we identified 15 frog species, including barking marsh frogs (Limnodynastes fletcheri), wrinkled toadlets (Uperoleia rugosa), desert tree frogs (Litoria rubella) and Sudell’s burrowing frog (Neobatrachus sudellae). On average, we counted nearly 40 individual frogs per site, though sometimes we saw none and once four of us counted nearly 250 in 20 minutes!

Putting all that together, I found that as expected, not all frog species did the same thing at the same time or even liked hanging out in the same places during a flood. However, frogs that had similar features generally shared similar responses. Species that move around on the ground but can’t burrow, such as spotted marsh frogs (Limnodynastes tasmaniensis), were seen in most weather and site conditions, and were more abundant at temporarily flooded wetlands with some aquatic vegetation. Conversely, tree frogs, such as the green tree frog (Litoria caerulea) liked to be around wooded wetlands but needed it to warmer and rainier before they’d be out and about.

Spotted marsh frogs enjoying the wet conditions. Photo: Dave Herasimtschuk.
Green tree frogs doing as they do. Photo: Dave Herasimtschuk.

The remaining species, which had special adaptations allowing them to burrow into the soil, such as the crucifix frog (Notaden bennettii), were rather particular. They were more likely to pop up after some rain the day or night before and they weren’t very keen on the wetlands, preferring ephemeral, rain-fed waterholes.

After unlocking the secret preferences of frogs in a large floodplain wetland during a natural flood, we can now start to get more precise about how environmental water supports frogs. While burrowing frogs might not appreciate flood waters without associated rainfall, we know that ground frogs like the spotted marsh frog do. This means that these frogs are likely to directly respond to and benefit from water releases. And if you’ve got happy frogs, you’ve got a well-functioning wetland!

Acknowledgements:
Thanks to my co-authors, Richard Kingsford (University of New South Wales), Trent Penman (University of Wollongong) and Jodi Rowley (Australian Museum Research Institute). I’d also like to thank landholders and Reserve rangers for permission to access the Macquarie Marshes during this study. Funding and support for the surveys were provided by the NSW Office of Environment and Heritage, the NSW Frog and Tadpole Society, and the Foundation for National Parks and Wildlife Service. For their assistance in the field, I particularly thank Carly Humphries, Jonathon Windsor, Ashley Soltysiak, Sarah Meredith, David Herasimtschuk, Angela Knerl, Diana Grasso, and Bill Koutsamanis.

For the nitty-gritty details, see:
Ocock, J.F., Kingsford, R.T., Penman, T.D. & Rowley, J.J.L. (2016). Amphibian abundance and detection trends during a large flood in a semi-arid floodplain wetland. Herpetological Conservation and Biology 11, 408-425.


A note on pilgrimages (but mostly about the Lake Eyre Basin).

When I first saw Pelobates fuscus, I was much more excited than I thought I’d be. Yes, this was a delightful if slightly dull-coloured round blob of a European burrowing frog (the ‘common spadefoot’), spotted while traipsing through a wetland in Hungary. But it was more than just a new species I could tick off my global amphibian checklist. This was a ‘pilgrimage’ species. Pelobates fuscus was the subject of several scientific articles I read early in my PhD that were important for learning theories and shaping my understanding of amphibians and floodplain wetlands. I’d read about it, studied it, and now I was looking at it!

My pilgrimage species
My pilgrimage species

I recently got to tick off another item on my pilgrimage list – this time the Lake Eyre Basin (LEB). The LEB looms large in the Australian psyche, but especially so if you are a freshwater junkie like myself, fascinated by how water can move across such a massive, flat, arid landscape and the life it brings with it.

A study in the late 1990s characterised 52 rivers worldwide and found the Cooper Creek and the Diamantina Creek, both in the LEB, to be the most variable for when the water flows, how much comes and how long you have to wait in between flows (i.e. flow timing. magnitude and frequency). They extended the Flood Pulse Concept (Junk 1989), which had only been applied to rivers with predictable regular flows, to include this complexity and so recognise that lots of biological processes, such as waterbird movement and breeding, fish spawning, rely on this natural variability. Again, these were paradigms and theories that made me stop and think, and became central how I understood my own research.

Now, the LEB is not exactly the low-hanging fruit of pilgrimage sites. It’s rather large (one-sixth of Australia’s landmass, or France, Spain and Portugal put together) so what counts as ‘being there’? Could I tick it off my list by just getting my foot over the line of the Basin catchment, or do I need to see Lake? What about putting a toe in the water? Also, it’s a long way away from anything. The sealed roads run out well before you get there. It’s not something you drive past on your way elsewhere, it has to be the destination. And a long weekend from Sydney is unlikely to cut it. Finally, it’s often not there. Well the water isn’t anyway. Like I said it is variable. Subject to continental-sized weather processes as well as high rates of evaporation, on average the lake only fills once in ten years.

Route of our flight from Broken Hill to Birdsville, over Lake Eyre and back again.
Route of our flight from Broken Hill to Birdsville, over Lake Eyre and back again.
Us with our wings about to leave Birdsville.
Us with our wings about to leave Birdsville.

Fortunately, the weather-gods smiled on my pilgrimage to the LEB. In mid-May 2016, my parents and I drove to Broken Hill, and from there took a chartered scenic flight which followed the Cooper Creek north and  stopped at the Birdsville Hotel overnight. The next day we followed the Diamantina Creek and Warburton Channel down stream before and flying across Lake Eyre to William Creek. Due to the rain across the region three days earlier and recent flows down from Queensland, there was water everywhere and the lake was about 60-70% full. A spectacular sight. I can’t adequately describe the experience of following those creeks and flying over the Lake. Really I can’t. The photos don’t do it justice. A worthy pilgrimage site, I was amazed and humbled.

Footnote: huge thanks to Drew from Silver City Air Charter for flying us around and planning the whole trip, highly recommend!

A watery-looking Outback
A watery-looking Outback
Diamantina Creek
Diamantina Creek
Nearly at the Lake water!
Nearly at the Lake water!
Lake Eyre! So much water, so much lake!
Water in Lake Eyre, so much water!
South end of Lake Eyre.
Edge of the Lake.

What’s my tadpole been eating? Looking for the end of the food-chain.

Small things are eaten by medium-sized things, which are eaten by big things, which are in turn eaten by even bigger things. We tend to find it easy to imagine the animals at the ‘big’ end of the scale – lions, sharks, eagles, t-rex – but recently, I’ve been getting excited looking at the things at the ‘small’ end of the food-web. Specifically, what is the ‘small thing’ that tadpoles are eating?

Not all tadpole species eat the same thing. One species in the tropics eats unfertilised eggs that the mother frog lays specifically for them, it’s called ‘oophagy’. This recently discovered group of species does it and as does the vampire flying frog. Other species are notorious carnivores and cannibals. The Megophrys genus of species are so dedicated to eating the tiny things floating on the surface of a pond or stream, they hang suspended in the water by their peculiar upturned funnel-shaped mouth.

Megophrys major tadpole. Wide lips form an upturned funnel, all the better for feeding on surface films (Photo: Jodi Rowley)
Megophrys major tadpole. Wide lips form an upturned funnel, all the better for feeding on surface films (Photo: Jodi Rowley)

The common species in the floodplain wetlands of the Murray Darling Basin are not that kooky, but surprisingly there is very little information on what they are actually eating. Marion Anstis’ wonderful book notes that the barking marsh and spotted marsh frog feed on “vegetation and sediment, as well as available protein such as dead insects and tadpoles”. But I wanted to know more.

I got my chance as part of a project, funded by ILWS Charles Sturt University, aimed at understanding the food sources of these species using two methods, gut content and stable isotope analysis.

We collected up to six tadpoles from five different wetlands around the Murrumbidgee floodplain. For the first part of the work, I really didn’t know if I’d even be able to identify anything from my dissection of the gut. Fortunately, I had a high-powered microscope, and suddenly a world of ‘small things’ opened up.

The long, long gut of a marsh frog tadpole.
The long, long gut of a marsh frog tadpole.

I could see bits of invertebrates including zooplankton, beetle larvae and chironomid larvae, bits of vascular plants of various shapes, and long sections of filamentous algae (see below). Plus lots of mush. Even more fascinating was realising the tadpoles seemed to be ‘hoovering up’ items relative to how available they were in the environment around them. Where there was more zooplankton in the water, there was a higher number in the gut.

I’ve a sneaking suspicion that it is going to get a bit more complicated when I move on the results from the second part of the project. It may be that what I was seeing in the gut, may not be what is nutritionally valuable. I think that maybe even smaller things are going to be important.

A tiny zooplankton (cladoceran).
A tiny zooplankton (cladoceran).
Plant piece, with spikes!
Plant piece, with spikes!
Whole beetle larvae.
Whole beetle larvae.
Lots of filamentous algae.
Lots of filamentous algae.
Mouth parts of a beetle larvae.
Mouth parts of a beetle larvae.
Cladoceran peeking out from section of gut.
Cladoceran peeking out from section of gut.