In the Field with Mirelings (PART 2)

In the Appalachian foothills of Ohio, there are strange tales of horrific figures that live in or near rivers; cadaverous and insatiable, they pillage cemeteries, consume unfortunate animals, and those who wander in their domains after dark. Today, however, we follow the creature behind the myth - we discover the life of a real "Muddy Man", a Mireling named Dime.

Follow Dime on a hunting trip, through hibernation, and witness the beauty of love in this cryptid documentary.

Writing, narrating, & editing by Ballyraven.

Music from Free Music Archive (in order of appearance):
AUTUMN SUNSET by Jason Shaw (some sections have pitch &/or speed change)
Doctor Talos Answers The Door by Doctor Turtle (some sections have pitch &/or speed change)
Lucky's Tune by Howie Mitchell
Dilating Times by Goji
Holiday Gift by Kai Engel
ONE FINE DAY by Jason Shaw
Decade Of Upsets (remaster) by Doctor Turtle
Love by Steve Combs
Old Molly Hare by Howie Mitchell

Sounds from Freesound (in order of appearance):
"Cardinal.wav" by CGEffex
"bubble (2).wav" by Glaneur de sons
"Bugs Chirping In Evening.wav" by AmyMarie1992
"Common Buzzard .wav" by Benboncan (added echo & reverb)
"Chewing, Breadstick, Single, A.wav" by Inspector J (pitch & speed change)
"Digging.wav" by lrobin0428 (pitch & speed change)
"walking through grass.wav" by MakedaMntuyedwa
"bush6.wav" by schademans
"Ambience, Night Wildlife, A.wav" by Inspector J
"WinterSolsticeNight.wav" by daveincamas
"Splash, Small, A.wav" by Inspector J (pitch & speed change, reverb added)

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Transcript

It is early fall in the valley. A cold and cloudy stream gurgles softly. Winter creeping closer, everything dons a muddle of brown, yellow, and orange. Water brushes against a gentle, sloping ridge. After a weekend of rain, the surrounding area is messy, topped by a thick layer of mud.
Blep.
Bleup.
Bpt.
Periodically, a bubble sputters up from the earth. A thin tunnel obscured by a wall of sediment, the rhythmic air pushes up droplets and flecks, building the barrier bit by bit. River waves lap at the defense, prevented from flowing in. A transition from waterway to solid earth, this mire clips between submersion and tacky dryness. Yet, the tunnel remains unscathed.
Like a shellfish hiding under the sand, a creature shelters beneath this mud tunnel. It softly snorts and clears the passageway, needing the surface's air. As sunset turns to dusk, the breaching bubbles occur more frequently. Now, with each breath, the tunnel widens. No longer slender, the riverbank divot transforms from the thickness of a plastic straw to that of a dry-erase marker.
The animal below must clear out its burrow after flooding or heavy rains. Several thin tubes connected to the main branch supply the dwelling with fresh air. Their state inspected biweekly, debris blocking airflow is pushed or blown out of the way with a thin, pointed snout.
Under twilight, the ground shifts nearby and seemingly expands. The slight change would go unnoticed if not watched intently. A hand's breadth away from the bubbling, silt flutters. Two dark, glossy orbs are washed of debris as they rise; the eyes lifelessly stare upwards. Within, a dark ring ominously darts around, though the organs only seem to twitch. Flat and colored like an agate stone, a Mireling's vision is limited.
We have watched and studied this animal for a full year now, and gotten to know him fairly well. He has a penchant for eating any shiny coins he finds along the bank on his walks. Because of this, we have named him Dime.
Though Dime cannot see far, his sight is much better than humans' in these low-light conditions. Like most amphibians, Mirelings can distinguish shapes and colors even in complete darkness; most adept in twilight, they are more active in the early morning or early night. However, with eye sockets permanently angled overhead and a stiff head, he can only observe what is above him or to his side. Independently moving, one eye watches the sky while the other cautiously surveys the riverbank.
Mirelings are opportunistic hunters; if an easy meal passes by their den, they attack with a projectile tongue. On quieter evenings with less traffic, they try a different approach. Mouths slightly ajar and bits of decaying food between fangs, when the amphibians poke their odorous bodies just above ground, they make compelling corpses. A secondary hunting method, Mirelings bait scavengers into drawing near enough to be struck.
Unfussy carnivores, Mirelings will consume a variety of insects, small birds, snakes, lizards, rodents, and, occasionally, fish. Unable to tackle large, quick, or particularly dynamic organisms, while they will eat anything they can catch, they are limited to prey that is small, unintelligent, and slow to react. If meals are few or far between, they must exert more energy and seek bulky food sources. Primarily scavengers, these amphibians obtain most of their monthly sustenance from carrion. Corpses provide a wide array of meals and need not be any specific size or temperament—only dead.
As twilight passes, another hunting session ends. One more night without substantial visitors makes Dime agitated. He is hungry, but is it worth the risk of leaving his safe den? After days of only small insects, his appetite prevails.
Wriggling out of a hidden, underground dwelling, Dime slides on his belly and flings his limbs backward; his home a slanted hole, the amphibian forces his way to the surface, kicking against dirt walls and gripping mud. A slick, mucousy substance incessantly secreted by his skin aids in underground travel; responsible for his slimy appearance, the matter is sticky and partially the cause of his unappealing stench. Upon his back are bands of globular muscles. Two on each side and one down the middle, when assisted by its tail, Mirelings can wriggle with great strength and speed in and out of tunnels or thick mire. Tired from his escape, Dime rests quietly on the riverbank. 
Looking like a small, bloated crocodile, some would find his appearance cute. Short, chunky, lizard-like animals coated in a thick layer of mud, they spend most of their lives in moist, bankside hovels like this - their typical donning of grime is no surprise. Free of filth, a Mireling's hide shares a similar color palette to the mud: various shades of brown, minor flecks of muted greens, and blots of grays.
The animals have stubby, bulky tails attached to stout, low-to-the-ground bodies; as arms and legs are rigid, though forceful, these four-limbed animals are well suited for digging and sliding. Five-toed, digits are shallowly webbed, chunky, and longer on the hindlegs; leaf-shaped paddles, toes spread out for balance aboveground and support in other conditions. None of his features are as bizarre as his head. Two bulbous, dark brown eyes sit like two eggs in a frying pan against an almost flat forehead. A thin snout curves upwards a few inches above the eyes; this is the tallest part of the creature. Jutting from the snout tip is a fang. Slanted slightly forward, it rests above an opposite-facing tooth poking from the bottom lip. The jaws are thin and bowed inversely, ensuring that the mouth never fully closes. Tiny teeth line the amphibian's mouth, diminishing in size the further into the cavity they are; most are for gripping prey, though its eye-catching frontal teeth are for pulling and tearing. Enveloped in muscle, while jaws appear weak, their grip is substantial. Below the Mireling's thin head is a loose flap of skin connected to the lower mandible. Able to stretch and accommodate large portions of food, the pocket is essential for the amphibian's survival.
On account of an oddly-shaped head, when breaching the surface, he gathers a hefty pile of debris. Sludge, debris gathering and falling down his skull obscures the animal's coloration and facial features. Consequently, this has led observers to misidentify the creature as a round-headed being with small, side-facing eyes and a thick neck.
His nostrils flare, sniffing the air intensely; his eyes roll anxiously, fixated on the nearby woods. What awaits within the forest tonight? He is rested and ready.
—
Dime's short, awkwardly positioned arms and legs are not ideal for walking. Best for digging and laying low, he does not travel quickly or gracefully. Over root and rock, he shuffles forward with his head tilted downwards. He pauses every few feet, inhaling deeply; seeking a specific scent, he moves purposefully onward.
Mirelings are primarily scavengers. Having a sizable and complex olfactory system, they can detect carrion up to 30 ft away above ground and 10 ft below. A detestable meal even to vultures, Mirelings find even putrified remains palatable. Typically the last vertebrate guest, it disposes of a large quantity of flesh before relinquishing the meal to smaller organisms.
Now deep within the woods, he has picked up on something. Smelling the air, he twitches and pauses more frequently. Correcting his path at each stop, he makes a beeline toward food. Closer to the source, he slows; other scavengers lurk in the area at night, as well as scavenger-hunters. Dime recognizes the scent of another. Trees and bushes abruptly rustle as a massive figure stumbles past. Holding a hooved leg, a Bank Bigfoot drags the somewhat fresh corpse of a deer behind it. Luckily for Dime, bigfeet detest all Pollyfrogs; particularly affected by their poison, they avoid contact at all costs.
Immediately, Dime scuttles forward and hisses. With surprise, the bigfoot drops its deer, turning and dropping to all fours; fear transforming into a rage, it bares its teeth and gives a dry bark. Unperturbed, Dime moves closer to the creature, head slanted downward and focused on his rival. The amphibian places one spread paw on the deer. Spittle drips from his lips as he issues another wet hiss.
Pounding his fists against the ground, the ape-ish animal emits several more barks into the wilderness. It breathes heavily and sits anxiously still, poised to fling away at any provocation; the creature listens for the response of its troop. Replies echo across the river, causing the bigfoot to bristle. It stands, looming several feet over the Mireling. With a low growl, the bigfoot grabs the carcass and pulls at it; provoked, the amphibian puffs up and scurries fully atop the body, opening his jaws as wide as possible. A gurgling builds in Dime's throat.
At once, the menacing competitor jerks away. The bigfoot bares its teeth again before stepping backward. Warily, it retreats into the brush; the thin trees bend to allow its passage back to the river. The creak of bark and crackle of leaf fade to silence. The din of crickets and a nearby screech owl overpowers the River Bigfoot family's rhythmic chatter in the distance. Dime relaxes and hops off the carcass. Most creatures fear a Mireling's spit; though mostly harmless, it is just as smelly as its outer secretions, bacteria-laden, and clings to mammals' coats. The bigfoot will not return, even after Dime leaves. With his scent on the remains, as well as his toxic juices, few creatures will claim his leftovers.
After expending a lot of energy to travel up the bank and the forested hill, Dime is starving. It is rare for him to have nearly-fresh meat, especially this much! Pulling at the hide with his sharp teeth, he picks the carrion apart and launches his tongue at the freed bits. Swallowing snippets and chunks, the Mireling engorges himself; after a long feeding session, his abdomen is round with excess. Sluggish, he picks several sizeable lumps up with his tongue; instead of swallowing them, he tucks them under the tongue. Using this stretchy pocket under the jaw, he will save some of the meat for later. The leftovers will grow beneficial bacteria for his body and attract insects or other scavengers when he grows hungry later. Normally dormant animals, a large feast like this will sustain him for weeks.
Halfway into the night, a cloudy sky provides little light to illuminate the ground - much less between the trees. Nonetheless, any light is enough for Dime to find his way home. Paired with the scents he left behind on the trek up, his scotopic vision provides an easy path to follow. Dime is neither lithe nor eager to find himself in another altercation; thus, his trip home is doubly long. Slow and careful to make as little noise as possible, the Mireling wobbles down the hill. This far into the night is the favorite of the river land's more dangerous, less persnickety beasts. The relentless Bone Crunchers and creative Wildmen are the most formidable predators he may face here.
Only the beginning of autumn, the chilly nights remind Dime that he must venture out more often. Winter is near; he must prepare.
—
During the winter months, Mirelings enter a kind of hibernation to survive the cold season. This period of dormancy allows the amphibian to conserve energy and resources while avoiding the freezing temperatures and limited food sources that would otherwise make survival difficult. These last two months, Dime has ventured out to hunt every couple of days; several pounds heavier, he has built up substantial fat stores. These will sustain him until the spring. 

Hibernation is triggered by a combination of environmental cues, such as decreasing daylight and temperature, and internal physiological changes. As the days grow shorter and colder, the amphibian's metabolism slows down and its body temperature drops. Settling into his den, Dime knows it is time to rest. Pushing back as deep as he can into the dirt, he closes his eyes. He enters a state of torpor, in which his heart rate and breathing slow and his activity level decreases; this reduces the amount of oxygen he needs.  His hovel has several small air tubes which replenish his oxygen; as long as at least one is operational, he will be fine throughout the season. Perhaps even more importantly, his metabolic rate declines significantly, allowing him to conserve energy and avoid depleting his fat stores. With few predators, it is unlikely, though not impossible, for him to be attacked and eaten in this sluggish, weakened state. 
- -
In the spring, as temperatures begin to warm up, Dime slowly emerges from his hovel. Poking only his nose out, sniffing, he crawls inch by inch, weak. Starving, he flicks his tongue at insects flying by and tadpoles gathered in nearby pools. He will not be satiated for a while, for it is time for romance, and to attract a mate, he will need to put aside larger morsels of food instead of eating them. If his appetite wins over, he will miss out and not have another opportunity to raise young for two more years.
Mirelings pair up and mate every other spring, as do many other amphibian species. Able to distinguish shapes and colors even in extreme darkness, certain colors glow to Mireling eyes. Eyes atop the head, females wade into the river’s center and float; watchful of the horizon and skies, they travel up and down the waterways, looking for neon fountains on the banks. 

Taking time to prepare for the occasion, males ferment the food they catch, storing it in their jowls. Brewing a mixture of toxic fluid, spittle, and decaying meat, the substance glows a neon yellow-green when perceived with their nocturnal vision. They must also expand their dens, preparing them for young.. The entire process taking several weeks, some males give up and swallow their reserves. Those that do persevere perform an extraordinary courtship display.

Going to the water’s edge, males dip their snouts for a gulp; mixing it inside, they move the tainted liquid of their jowl’s reserves to the back of the throat and snort it out through the nose. A fountainous, bright cloud, males signal that they are looking for a mate. They must time this performance; it only lasts to call out with for a few nights - they may risk displaying when another Mireling is not in sight, wasting it, or wait to see a female passing by, with the possibility of being too slow and her not seeing it. It is very easy for these creatures to miss one another, a reason for their low populations, albeit high fertility rates.

Unlike other creatures, Mireling pairings are not appearance or display based, but first-come-first-serve. Males and females mating only once a year with a single partner, females have less chance of finding a mate the later in the spring it gets. If a partner has not been discovered, she will lay her infertile eggs in the shallows of the river, feeding other organisms’ young, and travel up to a mile away to dig a new home. 

It is Dime’s lucky year; though he was too slow to draw the attention of a Mireling he saw the day prior, another one floats in the distance. He will be quick this time. Scurrying to the riverbank, he snorts– a grand fountain shimmers– and she has spotted him. Largely unsocial animals, she stays only long enough to copulate, laying eggs near the entrance of his burrow, in the mud; without a second glance, she departs. They will likely never see each other again.

A quick affair, Dime spends the rest of his night scooping the hundreds of gelatinous eggs into his mouth and depositing them in a pool he has dug within his hovel. Filled with water, as he transfers the eggs, bits of his reserves flood the pool. The small particles and microscopic bits will feed the hatchlings in a few days. a branch next to his sleeping quarters, he is able to easily access and care for them. When the youths grow into tadpoles, he will drop pieces of his meals for the young to feed on; incredibly small, they eat very little. If trouble happens to find Dime before they are grown, flooding will wash out the pool through an overfill tunnel; while few survivors would remain in such an event, it provides his offspring a chance in his absence. 

Tired, Dime rests on the edge of his den. Too exhausted to hunt, even in his famished state, he allows even large bugs to live another day. Two sparks of light alarm him, flashing from within the trees; their color warns of danger. Anxious, he scoots back into the muddy tunnel; pushing dirt up with his nose, he partially blocks its entrance. Peeking through a tiny window, the lights draw closer. Still, breathlessly, he tenses. Veering left, following the river, the shadowy figure moves on. Holding his breath until its sound has disappeared, he exhales, flattening and relaxing. Falling into a deep sleep, he must venture out and hunt the next night, he needs to be rested and alert. But, for now, he and his children are safe, comfortable.