Large Small Frogs in the Himalayas

We had the fortune to spend about six months in Landour, a beautiful little township and surrounding villages, close to the popular hill station Mussoorie, Uttarakhand. Situated at about 2200 m above sea level in the Himalayas, Landour itself was stunningly beautiful with its views of snow-clad peaks, small bazars, oak and pine forests and the numerous trails that one could explore. A popular destination about 20 km east of Landour is Dhanaulti. I have been there a few times, but only once with the intention of herping.

A fair weather view from Dhanaulti.

In 2015, I went with a bunch of students and herpetologists to Dhanaulti. It was the field trip part of their 'herpetology workshop' conducted at Wildlife Institute of India, Dehra Dun. With us were veterans of the field like Indraneil Das and Ulmar Grafe. Camping at a hotel in Dhanaulti, we went out for a walk along one of the paths leading away from the road, through a patch of forest. It was October, and the cold evening wind at that altitude was already making me shiver a little. We crossed several small streams, until we reached a somewhat larger one away from the road. Ulmar was teaching about sampling herpetofauna along streams, measuring water flow, slope of the stream etc. As night fell, the mood shifted to more of casual herping, headlights came alive, and people started moving in small groups looking for animals. 

Woods near Dhanaulti, a mix of deodar and oak forests.

 

One of the forest streams.

I wanted to find and photograph frogs and reptiles in the wild as they are. Having a lot of enthusiastic people around is sometimes not the best way to do it. So I tried to pull away from the group and moved up the stream. As I walked up the boulder-strewn stream with a dimmed headlight, I could see pale red eyes shining at me from the edge of water, or under a boulder. Approaching quietly and without closing the light, revealed a pair of eyes just above the water level, attached to the chunky body of a rather large species of frog. These were Murree Frogs (Nanorana vicina). Nanorana  is a bit of an odd name for these, there was nothing nano about them (nano = small, Rana = frog). I approached the first one, carefully on my hands and knees to within a few feet, held the camera up to find the frog in the view finder, and gently pressed the shutter-release to focus, "beep". A small splash, and frog disappeared into its watery home below the boulder. I sat cup, cursed my poor old camera, switched off the focus confirmation sound, and proceeded to find more frogs before people behind caught up. Eventually, I managed to photograph a few.

Normally, herping in a stream means getting the feet (sometimes the whole body) wet. But I put one foot in the water here and that was enough. The air temperature was around 13°C, but I swear that water felt like near zero. It hurt my foot! I have no idea how those frogs were staying active in that water. I have heard of  wood frogs in Alaska that can survive freezing. Could these Himalayan frogs also do the same? We know that a related species from the Tibetan plateau, Nanorana pleskei is can survive hibernation temperatures as low as - 2.5°C, even when more than 1/4th of the body fluids were frozen. Frogs in Dhanaulti probably do not experience anything that severe. But they are thought to be a wide-spread species in the Himalayas, and I am curious to know how frogs in colder parts survive.

These frogs blend in well with stream environment.

Taking the 'cold-blooded' to a whole knew level.

This one was at the edge of a small, but deep pool.

Look at that face, its almost saying,"just take your photo and move along".

 

Backyard hunter

Yesterday began as just another day. Woke up late, sat staring at social media for a couple of hours, had many cups of tea, watched the rain and then it was afternoon. Just when I thought that may be I should say hello to all the pending work, I hear the words, "pambu, pambu!" Jumped out of my chair and ran out, and there it was, a rather long and thick rat snake slowly crawling along the wall separating our compound from the neighbours. Big rat snake! No need to catch it, but I should get a photo, I thought. I moved back slowly without alarming the snake till I was inside the door, then ran in to my room to get my camera.

I have just two cheap lenses, an 18-55 mm and a 55-250 mm. I needed the 55-250 to get pictures without troubling the snake, and damn! The lens fitted to the camera was 18-55 mm and with a cheap extension tube that I used for photographing a little frog last night. Get it off fast, I thought, but the only the lens came off, leaving the extension tube still attached to the camera body! Try as I might, it wouldn't come off. I try with my hands, I try with a handkerchief, with my t-shirt...damn you stupid tubes! Finally the extension tube decided to leave the camera behind. I ran out after fitting the next lens fast, but the snake was nowhere to be seen. 

Just as I turned back, my father standing near the door points out the snake, which had climbed up the wall and was peeking out at me from the shade of garden plants. I could only manage a couple of shots of its head, before it decided that I was not worth its time, jumped to the other side and  vanished. How do they do that? They are like Ninjas!

Rat snake (Ptyas mucosa). The common name is slightly misleading as this species loves to eat
frogs, may be even more than rats.

A few minutes later, I was sitting inside looking at the photos I had taken, and I heard those words again, but in combination with the word "thavala". There it was again, this time chasing a bull frog across our yard. They went around the house, I ran back in to get the camera again. By the time I got back to them, two were becoming one, and not in a good way. The snake had the frog pinned to a corner, and was already swallowing the still squeaking prey. It was difficult to get a shot given the way its body was coiled up, but I managed one shot without creating much disturbance to the snake. It finished the meal in about three minutes, and very wisely decided to crawl in to a bandicoot hole in that corner. The last I saw of it was the beautiful yellow tail, criss-crossed with a network of black lines, slowly disappearing in to the hole.

The snake made a quick, yet bloody, work of the bull frog.

Fairly good day for me and the snake, worst day ever for that frog.