Yesterday afternoon was a warm 61 degrees here- perfect wood frog weather. I grabbed my backpack with my camera, water, and notebook and headed out to the frog pond.
I rushed past the cleared parts straight to the pond. Upon arrival, I saw a little movement near the water's edge. As I crept closer, a tadpole (or as I prefer to call them... a polliwog) darted away. (It was probably a bullfrog because it was BIG!) I sat down to wait and watch. Little by little, my ears picked up on a faint clucking sound on the other side of the pond. I know that sound! I tramped through the brush to the other side.
Along the way, more evidence of life continued to present itself:
|That fungi we call turkey mushrooms because they look like turkey tail feathers.|
As I got nearer to the pond's edge, the clicking sounds grew louder. Then, as I emerged on the bank, it stopped. They knew I was there. I watched them scatter toward the area I had just left.
I worked my way over to a tree that had fallen into the water. I walked out onto it and just sat. And sat. And sat. And then they went back to business as usual and revealed themselves.
The Big Day).