Next to birds, salamanders are my favorite group of animals. There’s something quietly magical about them—the way they move, the mystery of their lives underground or underwater, and the sheer variety of species out there if you know where to look. When I was in grad school at Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I was surrounded by salamanders. It was a dream for a nature lover. The diversity was incredible—spotted salamanders, marbled salamanders, red-backed, slimy, you name it. Every damp log or forest trail had the potential to reveal something unexpected.
Unfortunately, north Tulsa County is not so generous. When it comes to salamanders, it’s something of a desert. A field guide to Oklahoma backs this up—listing the small-mouthed salamander as the only species in the area. And while I’ve seen a couple, I’d hardly call that a bounty. Still, even the smallest sighting is exciting. One showed up in our garden a while back, and a neighbor has spotted one on their land too. That’s enough to confirm they’re here—quiet, hidden, surviving in little patches of suitable habitat.
Salamanders belong to the class of animals known as amphibians, along with frogs, toads, and newts. The name amphibian comes from Greek roots that mean “double life,” which is exactly what they live. They begin life as aquatic larvae, breathing through gills, and then undergo metamorphosis to become land-dwelling adults with lungs—at least in most cases. Some adult salamanders actually have no lungs at all. They breathe entirely through their skin, which is one of the many weird and wonderful things about this group.
The southeastern part of Oklahoma is far richer in salamanders than up here. That region is closer in climate and habitat to the Appalachian forests, which are famous for their amphibian abundance. In fact, the nearby Great Smoky Mountains are known as the “Salamander Capital of the World,” and for good reason. They’re home to more species of salamanders than anywhere else on the planet. When I lived in the Southeast, I had easy access to those mountains. Weekend trips often included a bit of log-turning or streamside exploring. I found myself in awe again and again by what lived just out of sight.
Back here in Oklahoma, the most commonly seen salamander statewide is the barred tiger salamander. It’s large, strikingly patterned, and usually associated with the western part of the state. According to the field guide, it’s not found in Tulsa County—but I know that’s not quite accurate. When I worked at OSU’s Center for Health Sciences, one of the animal care technicians brought in a barred tiger salamander she’d found on her property. And yes, it was definitely in Tulsa County. Rare, but present. That’s the thing about wildlife guides—they give you a general picture, but nature doesn’t always stick to the map.
The small-mouthed salamander, meanwhile, is brown, modest in size—four to six inches long—and tends to live in moist woodlands or grassy prairies with enough cover to hide beneath. Like most salamanders, it’s nocturnal, and during the day, it shelters under logs, rocks, or other debris near the vernal pools where it breeds. These pools are temporary, seasonal bodies of water that dry up later in the year, which makes them safe havens for salamander eggs—no fish to gobble up the next generation.
It’s easy to overlook salamanders. They aren’t flashy or loud. They don’t soar through the sky or sing from the treetops. But they’re here, quietly carrying out their lives in the background. You just have to know where to look—and remember to check under the logs.
