{"id":1303,"date":"2025-10-24T10:06:00","date_gmt":"2025-10-24T10:06:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/audiomateria.com\/?p=1303"},"modified":"2025-10-24T19:13:08","modified_gmt":"2025-10-24T19:13:08","slug":"inside-the-audacious-mission-to-bring-a-rare-toad-back-from-the-brink","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/audiomateria.com\/index.php\/2025\/10\/24\/inside-the-audacious-mission-to-bring-a-rare-toad-back-from-the-brink\/","title":{"rendered":"Inside the audacious mission to bring a rare toad back from the brink"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\n\tStrings of eggs from breeding pairs of the Houston toad at the Fort Worth Zoo are prepared for release into a pond at Griffith League Ranch. Each bag of eggs is filled with local pond water to acclimatize them to temperature and water quality and then emptied into floating bags that will help protect the eggs as they develop into tadpoles. | Julia Robinson for Vox\t<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Love \u2014 or at least sex \u2014 <\/em>was in the air of the small, windowless, biosecure room at the Fort Worth Zoo in Texas. Sixteen rectangular, clear plastic bins lined the room\u2019s back and side walls, tiny stages for unlikely romances. <\/p>\n

Each bin contained a plastic green pond plant \u2014 the kind you would buy for fish to make Nemo feel at home \u2014 about an inch of water, and two endangered Houston toads, a drab-looking critter with a pale belly, dark spots, and raised patches of skin that, in a betrayal of the stereotypes, aren\u2019t warts. <\/p>\n

It was a Wednesday afternoon over the spring, and Allison Julien, the zoo\u2019s reproductive science biologist, prepped 16 syringes to inject hormones into the croaking male toads to help, well, get them in the mood. The females, hanging out in their respective bins, had already been injected with their doses since it takes them longer to both lay eggs and acquiesce to the next step. <\/p>\n

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Soon, each female shuffled around her tub, laying a string of thousands of tiny eggs strung together like black pearls. A male clung to her back, his legs wrapped around her body and his little toes mashed to her belly as \u2014 and sorry to get graphic here \u2014 he peed on her eggs; for this species, sperm is released in their urine. The fake vegetation helped the egg strands spread out to maximize fertilization. And I like to think\u2026might have even helped a little with the ambiance. <\/p>\n

You probably haven\u2019t thought much about amphibian-assisted reproduction lately (or, let\u2019s be honest, ever). But in a lab tucked inside the Fort Worth Zoo, scientists are playing matchmaker for one of the rarest toads in the country \u2014 performing ultrasounds, injecting hormones, counting eggs by the tens of thousands, and trying to keep a species alive with spreadsheets and syringes. <\/p>\n

The Houston toad, once common across southeast Texas, is now so endangered that its best shot at survival involves assisted reproduction, willing landowners, and some very determined humans who want to help them survive again in the wild.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s weird, hopeful, kind of beautiful \u2014 and it just might be working.<\/p>\n

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How the Houston toad got pushed so close to the brink<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n

The Houston toad was first identified in the 1940s near an old airfield base in southeast Houston, where crashed planes from World War I military exercises littered the ground. <\/p>\n

After that initial discovery, herpetologists made sporadic observations of hundreds of toads at individual ponds, on coastal plains, and in forests across 13 Texas counties, but their sightings were still relatively few and far between. <\/p>\n

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\u201cThe challenge is [the Houston toad has] always been kind of rare,\u201d said Paul Crump, the state herpetologist for Texas Parks and Wildlife, who has worked for nearly two decades on Houston toad recovery. \u201cAnd we\u2019ve only got these little glimpses into what it\u2019s doing.\u201d<\/p>\n

All the while, Houston toad numbers were declining, and declining fast. <\/p>\n

By the mid-century, people in the state had introduced non-native species like fire ants that bit and killed juvenile toads, feral hogs that ate them and reduced wetland water quality, and grasses that made it difficult for toads to navigate. Meanwhile, Texas was expanding fast into Houston toad habitat \u2014 turning forests and savannahs into farmland, houses and suburban subdivisions, shopping centers and parking lots. <\/p>\n

The toad needed help, and so in 1969, it was included in the Endangered Species Conservation Act, <\/strong>the precursor to the 1973 Endangered Species Act, making the Houston toad one of the first federally protected amphibians in the country.<\/p>\n

But the listing may have been too late. In the years since, the Houston toad has likely declined more than 90 percent<\/a>.<\/p>\n

The Houston toad isn\u2019t among the class of iconic megafauna like grizzly bears or wolves. It doesn\u2019t grace national emblems like the golden eagle or put food on our tables like Canada geese. But uncharismatic species like the Houston toad still matter.<\/p>\n

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\u201cThey\u2019re like rivets on an airplane,\u201d said Crump. \u201cAll these pieces exist in a system, and there’s probably some redundancy, but you can only lose so many amphibian species, just like you can only lose so many rivets on an airplane, before things fall apart.\u201d<\/p>\n

And the planet is losing a lot of rivets.<\/p>\n

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Amphibians are among the most endangered classes of animals on Earth. More than 40 percent are threatened with extinction<\/a>, and as many as 220 have already blinked out. That means fewer creatures to eat disease-carrying mosquitoes, and fewer animals to feed other animals. So many amphibians died in recent decades in Costa Rica and Panama<\/a>, for example, that malaria cases in humans in the mid-2000s spiked. <\/p>\n

Protecting a species like the Houston toad also means restoring and maintaining habitat. That helps not only countless other native species like quail and deer but also protects aquifers that supply our drinking water.<\/p>\n

And while efforts like assisted reproduction may sound herculean (they often are), Diane Barber, the Fort Worth Zoo\u2019s senior curator of ectotherms (animals that rely on external sources for temperature regulation), said they\u2019re relatively inexpensive in the world of keeping species alive.<\/p>\n

How assisted reproduction works <\/strong><\/h2>\n

If 130,000 sounds like a lot of embryos for a single day\u2019s work, it is. <\/p>\n

At the Fort Worth Zoo, technicians individually counted and marked the latest batch of fertilized Houston toad eggs, adding them to the 3 million embryos<\/em> they and three other breeding facilities planned to catalog. Eventually, they hope to introduce them into the few ponds where researchers know small numbers of Houston toads still exist in the wild.<\/p>\n

If it works, that\u2019s a lot <\/em>of baby toads that can eventually find their own mates. <\/p>\n