Earlier this month, the image of a courageous inflatable frog standing alone before militarized law enforcement during a protest at Portland’s ICE facility filled the newsfeeds of folks in Oregon (and around the world). Bright green and wide-eyed, the peaceful demonstrator embraced the power of contrast, cartoonishly innocent in the face of weaponized government overreach. As the costumed resistance has grown, a clever protesting tactic has become something more. For Portlanders and other communities exhausted by the Trump administration’s attacks on civil rights across the country—as well as on Portland’s identity specifically— these unofficial mascots and their froggy leader present a welcome symbol of change.
With so much attention on inflatable frogs, it’s worth pointing out that real-life frogs have a lot to offer, too. Right now, Oregon has a chance to help our state’s vulnerable amphibians with a new source of funding for wildlife conservation.
Traversing water and land, amphibians represent a bridge between ecosystems. For over 250 million years, they’ve adapted to constant changes with a determined, if slimy, grace. Wherever amphibians find themselves, they tend to become the ecosystem's natural alarm system, since their thin skin absorbs everything, including nutrients from healthy wetlands, moisture from surrounding soil, and chemical pesticides. This hypersensitivity gives amphibians a talent for registering environmental shifts. As indicator species, they offer insights into an ecosystem’s struggles long before its root causes emerge.
But the vulnerability required to be a living indicator light comes at a cost: Amphibians experience environmental degradation at a breakneck rate. As a result, more than 40 percent of amphibian species are at risk of extinction due to habitat loss, deforestation, disease, and fragmented migration corridors. In Northwest Portland, Northern red-legged frogs’ migration needs now entail a dangerous trip over Highway 30, between their egg-laying habitat in the wetlands near the Willamette River and their habitat in Forest Park. During the frogs’ winter breeding season, volunteers with the Harborton Frog Shuttle’s bucket brigade help the imperiled amphibians survive an otherwise deadly game of Frogger. Grassroots community efforts like this shuttle program, known as a “frog taxi,” have saved thousands of amphibians. They’re only part of the solution to Oregon’s biodiversity crisis, though.
As of this fall, 18 of Oregon’s 31 native frogs and salamanders are classified by the Department of Fish and Wildlife as species requiring urgent action to recover. But amphibians rarely get the conservation funding or management support they need to thrive, as their needs are often deprioritized in favor of charismatic megafauna or animals deemed valuable for consumption. A 2025 analysis of 14,600 global conservation projects conducted over a 25-year period showed mammals and birds receiving 70-85 percent of total conservation resources, while amphibians receive less than 2.8 percent. In Oregon, 88 percent of wildlife species are non-game, but no stable funding source exists for this group. That’s because the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife’s (ODFW) funding is primarily from the sale of hunting and fishing licenses, and a tax on guns and ammunition sales. The overwhelming majority of conservation resources, therefore, go toward species that support the ODFW’s budget via hunting, trapping, or fishing.
Still, adaptive on-the-ground demonstration and rescue efforts show it’s possible to find alternative solutions for our state’s critical goals, including wildlife conservation. Oregon’s 2025 State Wildlife Action Plan (SWAP) outlines what the state must do to help threatened species and habitats. Oregon’s wildlife conservation goals depend on federal contributions, but the Trump administration has proposed major cuts to federal conservation funding in the 2026 budget and SWAP isn’t set to receive any federal funding next year. If federal agencies won’t fulfill their commitments, Oregon will need a stable alternative source.
Enter 1% for Wildlife, a legislative solution championed by a diverse statewide coalition of environmental advocates, outdoor recreationists, hunting and fishing groups, and business owners. The bill would fund conservation priorities through a 1.25 percent increase to Oregon’s Transient Lodging Tax (TLT), currently set at 1.5 percent of the amount someone pays to stay at a hotel or other lodging in the state. Out-of-state visitors, many of whom travel here to enjoy the biodiversity, would contribute the majority of the funding, and Oregon’s TLT would continue to be the third lowest in the nation.
In 2025, 1% for Wildlife (then HB 2977) passed the Oregon House with bipartisan support. In the final days of the legislative session, obstructionist actions from a small group of Republicans prevented the bill from becoming law – but the story didn’t end there, and neither did the bill’s broad support. Refusing to give up, wildlife advocates and the 1% for Wildlife coalition are bringing the bill back in 2026. While tax increases can be a hard sell statewide, financial analysis demonstrates that long-term investments in our state’s natural resources substantially benefit important industries like tourism and recreation. Basically, by taking care of the frogs, the frogs will take care of us.
Despite the odds stacked against them, these sensitive creatures remain resilient, capable of adapting in remarkable ways under pressure. Oregon slender salamanders can burrow deep into the ground to survive fierce wildfires. Threatened by invasive bullfrogs, the Oregon spotted frog alters its flight initiation distance, increasing how far it flees at the sign of a potential predator. Great Basin spadefoot toads adjust their tadpole development periods depending on the season’s water availability. They’ve been at this resourceful game since time immemorial, and while Portland’s protest frogs may be a recent phenomenon, amphibians are no stranger to inspiring humanity’s attitude toward change.
For the Kalapuya people, the song of Pacific chorus frogs marks a turning point in the winter season, a moment to shift from sharing their people’s stories to telling those of their animal neighbors. Meanwhile, ancient Greek philosophers linked the salamander to the mythical Phoenix after witnessing its “rebirth” in a bonfire. The unfortunate creature, living in a branch tossed into the flames as fuel, was only trying to escape a toasty demise. Yet the association stuck. Early Chinese texts referred to salamanders as “fire rats,” while the Aztec empire connected axolotls with Xolotl (god of fire and lightning). It’s ironic that a deeply heat-avoidant, water-dependent creature came to symbolize fire. But as frogs become the face of Portland’s protests against authoritarianism, is the connection really that far-fetched?
There’s certainly a fiery joy growing in Portland’s community, which was on full display in the recent No Kings protest that drew more than 40,000 participants to the streets. Protesters from every neighborhood smiled, complimented each other’s signs, and demonstrated the tenacity of this weird little city. As indicator species in our own right, Portlanders aren’t getting to choose the tumult happening around us. Together, though, our responses, each micro-resistance or creative method for building support, show our capacity to persevere—as humans and frogs alike.
