Art and Science Illuminate a Naturalist’s Path

Robert Stebbins, the “Grand Old Man” of things that crawl, croak and slither, was tramping through his idea of heaven: a ravine filled with fallen logs, rocks and scattered leaves.

Clad in khaki pants, a work shirt, a floppy hat and garden-variety basketball shoes, the 90-year-old naturalist searched for a salamander so rarely seen it doesn’t have a common name, just the scientific designation of Ensatina eschscholtzii.

“I was in my teens when I found my first one of these creatures,” Stebbins said as he looked under pieces of bark. “That was the beginning of the whole thing.”

The “whole thing” is a career that has joined art and science for seven decades. Combining artistic talent with deep respect for nature, Stebbins has written and illustrated more than a dozen books. The best-known, the Peterson Field Guides’ “Western Reptiles and Amphibians,” is widely considered the definitive work of its kind.

Like all of his works, the guide, the third edition of which was recently published, was written in longhand and then typed by his wife, Annarose. The 244 frogs, toads, salamanders, lizards, turtles and snakes it lists are represented by vivid color portraits -- accurate to the tiniest scale -- Stebbins painted from living specimens.

Like his beloved Ensatina, Stebbins is a rarity, the embodiment of the gentleman naturalist of another era.

“His connection with nature -- and his craftsmanship -- is rarely seen in this day and age,” said Steve Abbors, a manager with Oakland’s East Bay Municipal Utility District. “I watched him paint a Gila monster for the third edition of his field guide. When he finished, it looked like it could walk off the page.”

Stebbins has just finished another book. It’s about creating a sense of wonder in children so they’ll develop an appreciation for natural history and, he hopes, choose a career in science.

“I’m in a big hurry to get this book out because the world is being paved over bit by bit,” he said. “We’ve got to get more people attached to nature. In their hearts.”

Two decades ago, he retired as emeritus professor of zoology and emeritus curator of herpetology at UC Berkeley’s Museum of Vertebrate Zoology. But he is still able to march up a hillside faster than some men half his age and makes one guest appearance after another.

He might be unknown to the general public, but at a recent rattlesnake symposium attended by 400 scientists in Loma Linda, dozens of admirers stood in line for his autograph.

“I had him sign five copies of the field guide. They make great Christmas presents for people who are into reptiles and amphibians,” said one of his former students, Kristin Berry, now a specialist in desert biology with the U.S. Geological Survey.

Stebbins was born on a ranch in Chico, Calif., in 1915, when much of the state was wild, and his enduring love affair with nature began early on.

“My memory plugs in at age 5, when I was camping with my family in the Sierra foothills,” he said. “Along a creek, I came upon a pond turtle. I can still feel its sharp little claws in my hands and see its eye looking up at me, perhaps in fear. I was enthralled.”

A year later, his father, a high school teacher and naturalist, led him into an almond grove. “Dad handed me an almond blossom and said, ‘Bobby, repeat after me,’ ” he recalled. “Then he plucked a petal off it and said, ‘Petal. Petal.’ Under it were little green support structures. ‘Sepal. Sepal.’ Dad pointed to the center of the flower and said, ‘Stamen. Stamen.’ The images of that day have never left me.”

When he was 11, his family moved to the San Fernando Valley. A few years later, while exploring around an immense walnut tree behind his home, “I found an Ensatina. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. It was translucent, like a ghost, with big dark eyes.”

His later investigations into the salamander became a classic of biological research.

In 1949, a Guggenheim fellowship enabled him to gather enough material about North American reptiles and amphibians for field guides, which soon became indispensable for budding herpetologists.

His work on Ensatina aimed to resolve a biological puzzle: Why are two species of a creature in California virtually identical, except in color?

The differences are striking among salamanders found in the mountains encircling the Central Valley. On the western ranges they are mostly reddish brown, with orange bellies. On the eastern range, however, they are dark with bright yellow splotches -- and the colors become brighter at the southern end of the range.

He came to believe the salamanders evolved independently and adapted to their environments -- as though on separate islands -- from common ancestors in the north. The theory is highlighted by renowned biologist Richard Dawkins in his new book, “The Ancestor’s Tale: A Pilgrimage to the Dawn of Evolution.”

“Dr. Stebbins’ work on Ensatina is still being cited and followed up on,” said Cal Poly Pomona biologist Glenn Stewart. “And remarkably, at 90, he’s still out there looking for the animals.”

On a recent outing in the hills behind his home, he set a frantic pace and soon pointed to the deteriorating remains of a deer taken down by a mountain lion nearly a year ago. Nudging the bones and connective tissue with the tip of his walking stick, he noted, “Several interesting things going here.

“The ribs have been clipped by an animal, perhaps a coyote, seeking calcium,” he continued, holding up the skull for a closer look.

“And now we can see clearly how the kill occurred. There’s a kill bite right through the back of the skull. If a mountain lion is going to get me, I want a professional,” he added with a laugh. “I don’t want some cat who’s not going to do it well.”

It’s all grist for his journal, the kind he’s kept since boyhood.

A few minutes later, he strode into the ravine and began turning over logs and chunks of bark, portals to the loamy underworld home of Ensatina.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, a small, elegant creature swishing its tail in displeasure. It was dark brown with an orange belly and patches of hot yellow over its eyes. Though he’s seen hundreds, he marveled at the salamander as if for the first time.

“It’s a young one,” Stebbins said, his face aglow. “A real beauty.”

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The honors role

* Two amphibians have been named in Stebbins’ honor: Ambystoma stebbinsi, a species of tiger salamander; and Batrachoseps stebbinsi, commonly known as the Tehachapi slender salamander.

* There’s a saying among herpetologists: You tend to resemble the creatures you study most. Stebbins’ friends point to Batrachoseps, a lean animal with a broad head and long limbs.

Los Angeles Times