Hurricane Helene washed many things down river, but one thing it left behind was our giant community brush pile. Months after the storm had passed and the waters receded, and we’d seen to the more pressing repairs here around the farm, we got around to burning that brush pile – which had now grown to be monstrous in size.
Hours into the ordeal, my landmate came to me, sweat soaked with tears streaking down his soot-stained cheeks. In his large work-worn hands, he cradled a strange mass. He plopped into my hands and said earnestly in a ragged voice, “Can you help?”
In my hands lay the largest Ambystoma maculatum I had ever seen in my life. Known locally as the spotted salamander, they range from dark black to deep blue, and even purple, grey or brown; all with bright yellow to orange spots. These amphibians are native to this region, dining on a variety of invertebrates, slugs, snails and other writhing and wriggly delicacies – including mosquito larvae. As a member of the large mole salamander group, they spend most of their time burrowed underground in the moist duff of rich hardwood forests.
So I was startled and even – enchanted – to be holding one in my hands.
I had known that these particular salamanders were long lived, able to reach 20 to even 30 years old. This affords them the time to grow quite large, 6 – 9 and even 10 inches, the fourth largest salamander in Appalachia; but this was astounding in reality! It was so dense, filling both of my hands, and so much heavier than I would’ve imagined. It wasn’t moving and felt lifeless.
Our little farm sits along the river; the land is rich and fertile, on a south face, a couple of flat acres, a rarity here in the swoopy landscape of the Blue Ridge. This salamander had burrowed under the massive burn pile, perhaps seeking shade, sensing how close it was to the vernal pools that it seeks for breeding. Now, fire had raged overhead and it had a wound on one side and was dangerously dry. I instantly went to the little bridge that crosses a seasonal creek near the sheep and bees and jumped in, the still salamander held carefully in my hands.
Gently, I placed it in the cool water, just a trickle this time of year, coating it with soft, silty mud. Then, to my amazement, it wriggled and sprang to life, scampering off down the creek, into the mud. My daughter and I clapped and cried and hugged all at once, watching nature know exactly how to heal itself.
A few moments later, while we still sat in wonderment, it scampered up onto the bank and paused, turning to look at us for a long moment with such a depth of communication in that gaze, that the gratitude was palpable. Yup – eye-gazing with a spotted salamander. I was so grateful that my 19 year old daughter was there to witness, or nobody would believe me!
And the most amazing part was seeing this salamander’s astounding ability to perform super hero level recovery skills of regenerating its wounded limb with my own eyes. It had already shed the hurt leg by the time it scampered up to give thanks and have that moment with us; and through stem-cell like re-creation and a form of alchemical magic that transcends words, it was in the process of growing a new one. It was another miraculous day living in the ecotone of a rich sloping forest meeting fertile land on the edge of the river…in a flood plane.
As I continue to reflect on the experience I got to have with this being, I am enchanted and inspired by the resilience of the spotted salamander. To have been flooded in Helene then burned in the wreckage; to reemerge and persist, with an attitude of gratitude and acknowledgement of all ways we are interconnected and one…and to gracefully grow all new parts of oneself, as needed, without despair.
The spotted salamander is caught in the same web of life that all of nature is connected through, and so faces the same challenges and threats. Habitat loss and forest fragmentation have huge impacts, as well as pollution, which these indicator species are especially sensitive to. And climate change looms large on the horizon that we share, with unknown impacts for us all.
And so, in the midst of climate collapse, economic uncertainty and the sobering reality of fascism at home and abroad, Firefly Gathering 2026 is honoring Ambystoma maculatum, the spotted salamander and its epic levels of resilience as our inspiration, aspiration and theme this year (stay tuned for this year’s T-shirt graphics!).
Appalachia has a history of strong and sturdy beings coming from this land, with the people being no exception. We are committed to co-creating grounded, resilient community through the practice of earthskills, traditional craft and indigenous wisdom, along with mindful mutual aid and basic human decency. Check out a Perennial Workshop to expand your capacity and plan to join us for the Annual Firefly Gathering, July 7-12, 2026 to remind yourself of the many ways that you already embody resilience, and become more like the salamander!
