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Two California newts (Taricha torosa) mate in a murky cattle pond, California, USA. The male grips on tightly to the female, hoping for the opportunity to fertilize her eggs
 

I take my camera and put it into the underwater housing, check the seals and strobe connections. My setup is ready to go down to 300 feet, but instead, I plonk it into five inches of brown stagnant water in a small pond that smells faintly of cow manure. A herd of the offending animals is milling around in the shallows on the far side of the pond. It is not the most pristine of photography locations, but the spot I’m in contains some of California’s most fascinating underwater subjects—California newts. They mill around beneath the surface, occasionally surfacing to grab a gulp of air before sharply twisting and squirming back to the bottom.

As a photographer, I have always been drawn to reptiles and amphibians. They’re charismatic yet secretive, beautiful yet cryptic, and aside from a few exceptions, aquatic species get relatively little attention. In California, where I’m based, there are few marine reptiles, and amphibians everywhere are largely intolerant of salt water, so of course I found myself turning to freshwater ecosystems. Of the aquatic fauna in the West, I gravitated to western newts in the genus Taricha. There are four newt species in the genus: three of them (Sierra, California, and red-bellied newts) only occur in California and one (the rough-skinned newt) ranges northward from California to Alaska. There are some differences in coloration, habits, and habitats but all four species are relatively similar.
 

One difference among some of the newt species is where and how they deposit their eggs, singly or in masses, on vegetation or on the underside of rocks. The red bellied newt (Taricha rivularis) is a species that sticks its eggs onto the underside of a rock. Either attracted to the same rocks or seeking safety in numbers, it’s typical to find multiple masses together. Here, a single female takes her turn sticking her eggs onto the rock next to the other clutches, California, USA
 

They’re famous for being among the most toxic animals in the world, and although there is variation in potency between populations and species, they all sequester some amount of tetrodotoxin—the same deadly neurotoxin that blue-ringed octopus and pufferfish contain. However, the newts lack any method of delivery, and the poison remains in their skin solely to deter predators from eating them. So here is my PSA: Don’t eat newts!

Luckily for photographers, the newts are not always found in turbid cattle ponds. Some prefer lakes or running water, including some of the most beautiful freshwater habitats California has to offer: creeks meandering through redwoods or streams tumbling from the Sierras.
 

At the height of breeding activity, nearly the entire bottom of a shallow cow pond is covered by California newts (Taricha torosa) and their egg masses, California, USA
 

Newts are amphibians and bridge the gap between terrestrial and aquatic existence. Depending on the location and rain, some newts may remain in water year round, but ultimately there is no doubt that springtime is newt time. This is when there are the most newts in the water and the most behavior to photograph. Seasonality varies but March tends to be peak activity in Northern California. Once the rains arrive, male newts will emerge from underground where they spend much of the hot summer and fall months. They will make their way to a body of water to wait for females to arrive. The stream-breeding species are a little slower and migrate to water later in the spring, once the heavy flows from rain and meltwater have ebbed enough not to sweep them away downstream.

For photographers, peak activity happens shortly after female newts reach the water. They’re immediately mobbed by waiting males—chivalry does not exist amongst newts. Mating balls form when gaggles of lusty males attempt to grab onto a female and simultaneously push other competing males away. Eventually, these mating balls break apart, the victorious male with the beleaguered female makes a quick break for it before the scrum can reform. All this competition for mates means newts are less wary, and it is not unusual to have an individual boldly swim up to a dome port to investigate its own reflection. Numerous times, I have actually had mating balls of oblivious newts roll right into my camera.
 

At the bottom of a fast-flowing stream, the currents bring detritus and loose collections of newts together—by accident or design, the males here are in a good spot to find mates. As soon as the currents bring a female to this portion of the stream bed, she is swarmed. Two males grip her from either side and others move in to join the fray, California, USA
 

A challenge with these newt balls is that it can be difficult to get an image where it’s clear what action is actually taking place. Too often, the resulting images are unidentifiable mishmashes of amphibious tails and limbs. The writhing masses of contorted newt bodies are constantly tilting and shifting, so the good news is a better angle is usually just a few minutes away as the newts move. That patience serves a photographer well in other ways too, as stirring up sediment is a constant struggle and is best solved by slow deliberate movements rather than rushing up to subjects.

Depending on the location where I am photographing newts, I may take a variety of approaches. If the water is clean and deep, my preferred method is snorkeling with the newts. If the water is shallow and contaminated, I slowly wade using either boots or waders and compose my images from above. This can be a frustrating experience if you’re used to being in the water with your subjects, but when a herd of cows trundles in to drink from their watering hole and simultaneously uses it as a latrine, it’s a good reminder that it is best practice to keep your face well away from the water!
 

The underwater setup I use to photograph newts: A Nauticam housing for a Nikon D810 with a mini-dome, a Nikon 8–15mm Fisheye or Tokina 10–17mm Fisheye, and Seacam 60D Strobes. Grazing cattle can be seen in the distance: As temperatures increase the cattle will spend more and more time adjacent to the shrinking pond and the water will quickly muddy
 

If walking through newt habitat, it is important not to wade deeper than you can see where you’re placing your feet and to proceed slowly and carefully. Female newts enter a semi-catatonic state when laying eggs and could be at risk of getting stepped on—not to mention the egg clusters can’t escape at all. I prefer to use a wide-angle lens to document the newts: There are a lot of squirmy bodies and limbs, and wide angle allows for more action to be in frame and helps communicate a better sense of the newts in their environment.

Shooting subjects wide from just a few inches away is also helpful with regards to overcoming less-than-stellar visibility. The lenses I have used to document the newts are a Tokina 10–17mm, Sigma 15mm, and most recently a Nikon 8–15mm behind a mini-dome, which allows me to get very close to the amphibians. No single strobe placement works for all situations, as sometimes thick vegetation blocks the light coming in from one or both sides; other times, the newts are in tight quarters where the optimal strobe placement just doesn’t fit, so flexibility is critical.
 

A mating ball of red-bellied newts (Taricha rivularis) that bounced off my stationary dome port several times as I photographed them. It was one of many such newt balls lining the edge of this small stream. In this moment, the male newts didn’t care about anything except the female, and she was too overwhelmed to pay attention to the camera either, California, USA
 

While newts remain a common sight across much of their range, trouble looms. Newts rely on water in order to complete their life cycle. In the past several years, I have seen ponds fail to fill up due to lack of precipitation, meaning no breeding for the newts. Other years ponds evaporate too quickly, dooming an entire upcoming generation who had not yet completed their metamorphosis. Heat waves kill adults and juveniles alike, and in some areas, mysterious die-offs have been recorded.

When photographing freshwater amphibians, it’s important to make sure we do no harm to our subjects. Amphibians are remarkably sensitive, and there are a variety of emergent diseases that have been associated with amphibian die-offs like Ranavirus, chytridiomycosis, and Perkinseas outbreaks, to name a few. Many of these diseases can be spread from waterbody to waterbody through contaminated items like wetsuits, boots, or camera gear, so care must be taken not to become an accidental vector for wildlife disease.
 

Sierra newts (Taricha sierrae) gather at the bottom of a cold stream fed by snowmelt trickling down from the Sierra Nevada mountains, California, USA. The sierra newts seem to prefer smaller streams like this although they can also be found in the margins and sheltered bottoms of large fast flowing rivers
 

Rough skinned newts (Taricha granulosa) gather in a small stream, California, USA. These are all males that just arrived and have not yet undergone the shift towards a more aquatic existence that is characterized by the skin becoming smoother, tails widening to become more paddle-like, and the roughening of the palms of their feet for better gripping. For now, they huddle and will soon begin patrolling the stream, waiting for females
 

Gear should be disinfected between sites. The first step is to remove any muck or grime that is stuck on surfaces and wash equipment as you would after going into a marine environment. The easiest way to decontaminate is simply to dry gear out for an extended period of time. Most of the pathogens that might infect amphibians cannot survive desiccation. If this is not an option due to time constraints then the most effective disinfection protocols involve washing in a bleach solution or disinfection with alcohol wipes on more sensitive items.

It is important to keep in mind that alcohol or bleach may degrade acrylic ports, O-rings or metal, so care should be taken to do the background research to ensure that your sanitization method isn’t putting your camera at risk. For this reason, I usually will focus on a specific waterbody for days in a row so there is no risk of transmitting pathogens between water bodies, then sanitize, rinse off using clean water and let gear completely dry for an extended period before spending time at the next location.

As always, it is important to put the welfare of our subjects above our desire to get photos. I strongly believe that photographing newts is one of the top-tier wildlife experiences of the West Coast, and with just a little care, planning, and patience, it can be extremely rewarding for an underwater photographer. Few other species of wildlife are as accessible and so willing to carry on with their behavior with a camera hovering nearby.
 

A red-bellied newt (Taricha rivularis) swims up to the dome port for a quick peek at his reflection, presumably to check to see if its something he can mate with, California, USA. Curiosity sated and somewhat disappointed, he dove to the bottom after taking a look
 

To view more of Anton’s work, both topside and underwater, please follow his fantastic Instagram page and visit his website, www.antonsorokin.com.