Salamander, O Salamander

"Salamanders are interesting, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." ---Bill Bryson

I’ve always loved salamanders. When I was a young child, I used to hang out in ravines, lifting up stones to see the salamanders underneath. I knew nothing about salamanders then, but somehow I knew they were my protectors.

Maybe lions would have been a better choice.

But no—dear salamanders—I don’t mean to insult you. You were my fierce protectors and I knew it. We were a team right from the start.

I was not repulsed by your slimy skin, or the fact that you lived under rocks. Those things just brought me closer to you.

We would gather in circles as you told me about your 300 million years on earth. You arrived long before the dinosaurs came.

A vernal pool has lately arrived in my forest. It is a temporary body of water that shows up in spring. Vernal pools are where you come to breed. You crawl out of the dark soil, running your limbs along the ground, not caring that your stomach drags. You are free. You survived the winter.

Somewhere between a frog and a snake, you slide into the water. Then you deposit a jelly-like mass that floats in the darkness. This turns into you—first with gills and fins, then lungs, then limbs. Until finally, you become who you are now—protector of the universe.

Salamander, o salamander, I feel you in my skin, my lungs, my bones. I was with you before the dinosaurs came.

Now that we humans have brought ourselves to the edge of destruction, salamander, you must have something to say. Tell me your secrets and I’ll absorb them through my skin. Remember? You taught me how.

I wish I could be just like you, tender and cold-blooded. I would sink into the earth to stay safe.

O salamander, you helped me to survive. I would like to return the favor.