Spring is Sprung!

[The Lone Ranger]

The trees haven't leafed out yet, but daytime temperatures are up into the 60s and it generally remains above freezing at night, so Spring is definitely on its way!

Last Friday afternoon, I went out to a nearby natural area to look for interesting wildlife. I broke out the hip waders and explored some of the vernal pools. A vernal pool is a temporary body of water that forms in the Spring as low-lying areas fill with water from the combination of Spring rains and melting snow. Since these pools generally dry up by sometime in the Summer, they don't support fish populations. This makes them near-ideal breeding sites for various amphibian species, since there are no fishes present to prey upon their eggs or young. Of course, there are dangers involved in breeding in temporary pools.

Most amphibians, of course, lay eggs that do not have waterproof shells. Accordingly, the eggs must be laid in water -- or at least in moist environments -- in order to prevent fatal dehydration. The larvae that hatch from the eggs have gills and breathe water -- these are, of course, the familiar tadpoles if they're the young of frogs or toads. (Larval salamanders generally look like miniature versions of adults, except with prominent gills.) In most amphibian species, the larvae eventually grow lungs and move onto land.

Well, sort of, anyway. Since amphibians don't have waterproof skins, even the adults are almost always found in wet environments, and they generally live in or near water.

Anyway, the upshot of this is that the strategy of breeding in vernal pools has some advantages (namely avoidance of piscine predators), but it's also a somewhat risky strategy. If the pool dries up before the larval amphibians living in it have grown lungs and become semi-independent of water, they'll die. Accordingly, larger species like Bullfrogs (Rana catesbeiana) generally don't breed in vernal pools; it takes 2 years for a bullfrog to go from egg to air-breathing adult.



So anyway, virtually all of the snow had melted by last Friday, except for a few patches here in there in the deeper and shadier parts of the woods. Similarly, virtually all of the ice had melted off the ponds and lakes.

As I waded into the pool to see what I could find, Western Chorus Frogs (Pseudacris triseriata) were calling like mad. The volume of sound these tiny frogs can produce is simply astounding, and there were so many calling that the combined din was almost deafening. The surrounding woods were reverberating with their "cree-ee-ee-ee-eek! cree-ee-ee-ee-eek! cree-ee-ee-ee-eek!" calls. (The call of a western chorus frog is often described as sounding like the sound made by a comb when you run your fingernail along it.)

Several Wood Frogs (Rana sylvatica) were calling as well. Wood frogs are among my favorite frog species, so I was happy to see and hear some of them. They have particularly unique calls, which make them all the more interesting; the males have gutteral calls that sound something like the quacking of ducks. So, if you find yourself in the northern woods in the very early Spring and you hear what sounds like ducks quacking in the woods, chances are good that you've found some wood frogs.

I was hoping to find some Spotted Salamanders (Ambystoma maculatum), but no such luck.


Wood frogs, western chorus frogs and spotted salamanders are known as "explosive breeders." All of the wood frogs (or spotted salamanders, etc.) in an area will gather at the same time and breed all together. This breeding period is amazingly brief -- they may get together and call for only 2 or 3 nights, and then they're done. Unlike most other frog species, wood frogs (as the name kind of implies) don't live in or near water. Instead, they can usually be found in the leaf litter of moist northern forests. Their brown coloration makes them very well-camouflaged against dead leaves, and so they're practically impossible to find outside of the breeding season.

But for a few days in the late Winter/early Spring, they come together for breeding. They'll gather in vernal pools and the males will give their duck-like "quacking" calls to attract females. (Females generally choose the biggest and presumably the healthiest males for breeding; since the pitch of a male's calls are indicative of his size, this is how the males "advertise" their suitability as mates to the females.) For those brief few days while they're breeding, the frogs tend to have one-track minds. I've walked up to vernal pools with calling wood frogs in them, making no effort whatsoever to hide my presence, reached down into the water to pick up a frog, examined it, and then set it back in the water -- and it goes right back to calling, as if nothing had happened. They're so busy trying to attract mates that they ignore practically everything else.

During that brief frenzy of breeding, the frogs produce enormous numbers of eggs. Then, as suddenly as they appear, they simply ... vanish. Finding a wood frog outside of the breeding season is practically impossible, in my experience.

As you might expect, given that wood frogs often breed while there's still snow on the ground, and that the pools they breed in are often still half-frozen, wood frog eggs are quite resistant to cold. (So are the eggs of spotted salamanders.) On several occasions, I've seen wood frog and spotted salamander egg masses in some pool that was completely covered by ice. So long as the eggs on the bottom don't actually freeze, though, they'll be fine.

In a few days, the tadpoles hatch. As you'd expect, the tadpoles grow very quickly, and they metamorphose into little frogs in just a few weeks' time. (They have to -- the pool will probably dry up by late Summer, so if the tadpoles are to survive, they must mature quickly.) The little frogs disappear into the forest, and they don't come back to water until the next year's breeding season.


Because the frogs breed so early in the season, most of the animals that might eat them or their eggs aren't active yet. So, even though they run the risk that the adults and/or the eggs will be killed by a cold snap, it's apparently worth it to avoid predators like snakes, most of which won't be active for several more weeks.


And because they breed explosively, they can "swamp" whatever predators might be present. Lots of plants and animals are explosive breeders like this. They produce all of their eggs/seeds at once, and in huge numbers, and then go for long periods of time before they breed again. Since so many eggs/seeds are produced in a very short period of time, potential predators are "swamped" and can't possibly eat them all. (If the same number of eggs or seeds were produced over a longer period of time, the predators would have plenty of time to eat most or all of them.)


A lot of plants breed explosively as well. Many oak trees (genus Quercus), for instance, are explosive breeders. Oak trees will go for years with very little acorn production, and then one year all of the oaks in an area will produce huge numbers of acorns. This is called "masting." (It's not entirely clear how the trees coordinate this, but it appears that they "communicate" with each other through chemicals that they release into the air.) With such huge numbers of acorns produced at the same time, there's no way the squirrels and the deer and other acorn-eaters can eat all of them. This ensures that at least some of the acorns will survive to germinate and grow.



Many wildflowers have somewhat similar breeding habits. Lots of wildflowers bloom very briefly in the late Winter/early Spring. Collectively, these wildflowers are called "Spring Ephemerals." (Because they bloom in the Spring, but for only a short time.) By breeding so early, the Spring ephemerals can bloom and produce their seeds before many of the animals that might eat them have awakened from hibernation -- or have returned from their winter migration. Also, by blooming so early, before the leaves have come out on the bushes and trees, Spring ephemerals can avoid being shaded out by taller plants.

So, the late Winter/early Spring -- in that brief window of time between the melting of the last of the snow and the opening of the leaves on the trees -- is a great time to go out into the forest in search of wildlowers. Hopefully, the Spring ephemerals will be blooming soon!




Back in the pool, there were even a few Spring Peepers (Pseudacris crucifer) calling. As the name implies, they have very high-pitched "peep! peep! peep!" calls. Like chorus frogs, they produce an almost-unbelievable volume of sound, considering they're such tiny animals. Unlike the wood frogs and chorus frogs, the peepers have relatively long breeding seasons, so they'll be calling for some time yet.

A Garter Snake (Thamnophis sirtalis) was patrolling the shore. Most likely, he was doing the same thing I was -- looking for frogs. (Garter snakes are usually the first snakes to emerge from hibernation in the Spring, and can often be found weeks before any other snakes are out and about.)





Last night, I went out for a nice walk. It was a lovely evening to be out, as it happened. The frogs were calling lustily, and it was a moonless night; the sky was absolutely clear, with the stars glinting overhead and the Milky Way glowing softly overhead. (You need a pretty dark sky -- well away from artificial lights -- in order to be able to see the Milky Way.) The constellations Canis major, Orion, Cassiopeia and Ursa Major were all clearly visible, and even the Pleiades (a faintly-visible star cluster in the shoulder of Taurus) were easy to see.

A few chorus frogs and wood frogs were still calling in the vernal pools, but they've mostly gone back into the woods already. But the spring peepers were more than making up for them, and the night was simply alive with their calls. In a larger pond, a couple of Northern Leopard Frogs (Rana pipiens) were calling. Unlike the chorus frogs and wood frogs, the larger leopard frogs typically breed in more permanent bodies of water. (It was surprising to hear them calling this early in the season, but I guess these guys were wanting to get an early start.)

Northern leopard frogs are sometimes called "Meadow Frogs" because, instead of staying in or very near water like most other frogs, they're typically found in grassy meadows outside of the breeding season -- sometimes surprisingly far from water.

A lonely American Toad (Bufo americanus) was calling, too. It's a bit early for American toads, but they, too, are early Spring breeders.



In addition to the frogs and the clear night air, I found the skull of a Raccoon (Procyon lotor) in one of the pools. The bottom jaw was missing, and several teeth were missing from the upper jaw. The skull itself was in good shape, though, and showed no obvious signs of trauma. I considered taking it home for further examination, but decided to leave it where I'd found it.

Coincidentally, I heard some rustling a in a nearby tree just a few minutes later. I turned on my flashlight and shone it up into the tree to see a raccoon looking at me. Later in the night, I heard some squalling back in the woods behind the house -- sounds like a couple of male raccoons got into a fight, perhaps over a female.


More rustling in a nearby tree. Again I whipped out my flashlight, and this time there was a Virginia Opossum (Didelphis virginiana) looking back at me.

An Eastern Screech Owl (Megascops asio) called softly from somewhere nearby. It's my favorite owl species, and I tried to find it, but to no avail.



Speaking of mammals, and of seasonal changes, the Deer Mice (Peromyscus maniculatus) seem awfully active lately! It's lucky for them I'm a biologist and don't like to kill animals if I can avoid it. I have several "live traps" that I've used for monitoring small mammal populations. Anyway, now that the weather is warming up, they're apparently becoming more active. And apparently, there's no way to keep the little buggers out of the house. I've trapped 6 of them in just the past couple of weeks. I caught 3 of them last Friday night alone! They're cute little things with their big black eyes, but they'd better hope they don't get me sufficiently annoyed at their constant intrusions that I decide to take lethal measures against them! (I carry them some distance away from the house and release them, with a stern admonition to not come back. I hope they're listening!)

I seem to be making some headway, it seems. I've only caught one during the past week. So I'm hoping that trend holds. Fortunately, it's Peromyscus I'm dealing with here, and not "House Mice" (Mus musculus). House mice are non-native species (they're native to Europe and Asia) and can be very ecologically destructive here in North America. I'd be a lot less reluctant to use lethal trapping methods against house mice.


Anyway, Spring is definitely springing!


Cheers,

Michael

[livius drusus]

The bumblebees are out in full force already in my back yard. They love hovering around the deck where all my herbs live. I almost felt bad harvesting the sage blossoms before they opened because the bees enjoy them so much. Sorry gais, but that's working sage; if I let it go to seed I'll get many fewer leaves to nom.

[Qingdai]

The frogs here, Pacific Treefrog (Hyla regilla), have been busy calling for mates all month.

I often forget how early the start calling and it always surprises me, as I associate them with spring.
I've got a native creeping huckleberry that is blooming too.

[The Lone Ranger]

I love Hyla regilla!

As an aside, this is the only species of frog native to North America that has a call that sounds like "ribbit." And they're found only in the western U.S. and northwestern Canada.


So why is it that practically every television show or movie made in the U.S. uses the call of Hyla regilla to represent the call of a frog -- even when the show/movie is set someplace where Hyla regilla doesn't live?

I can only assume that it's because most such movies/television shows were filmed in California, at least originally -- and at some point, somebody went to a nearby wetland and recorded the calls of Hyla regilla for use as "generic frog calls". And movies and television have been using these recorded calls ever since.

So pervasive has been the influence of American-made movies and television that even lots of people from outside North America think that frogs generally go "ribbit" -- even though it's just one species of frog native to the western U.S.


Cheers,

Michael

[Ari]

Unfortunately even living in a green part of SF we don't get many animals besides the occasional city raccoon (just cause they are gay SF raccoons doesn't mean they don't carry around a switch blade and they will fight for their McDonald's wrapper).

Originally Posted by livius drusus

The bumblebees are out in full force already in my back yard.

For the last month or so we have been getting some awesome huge and fuzzy bumble bees out on the coast lazily buzzing the flowers. They have that same kind of stumble that the surfer dudes do.

This makes me want to be back in the foothills where I used to live. We would get those little pacific tree frogs stuck to our glass backdoor. Just turn the florescent outdoor light on to get the bugs flocking and the door was covered with them. Unfortunately it meant we had to watch the door cracks when coming in or out to try to minimize the number of squished froggies on the door jam.

[Crumb]

Originally Posted by Ari

For the last month or so we have been getting some awesome huge and fuzzy bumble bees out on the coast lazily buzzing the flowers. They have that same kind of stumble that the surfer dudes do.

That reminds me that when my nephew was a little tyke he used to call them "bungle bees".

[The Lone Ranger]

I went out for another walk last night, right after a brief rainfall. Since it had just stopped raining, and the rainfall had been very brief, earthworms were coming up out of the soil all over the place. If I were a fisherman, I could've gathered all the bait I could want in just a few minutes' time.
It's amazing how noisy some animals can be. I could easily hear the worms pushing aside leaves as the came up out of the soil and onto the surface, and the sound of worms emerging from the soil was all around me. Pretty neat, actually.

No wood frogs were calling last night, so they may be done for the season, alas. A few optimistic chorus frogs were still calling, though. The spring peepers were in full voice though, and the woods rang with their calls. Several leopard frogs and American toads were calling, too. I saw some Green Frogs (Rana clamitans) in the water, but they won't start calling for awhile yet -- not until the water gets somewhat warmer.


A soft yellow-green glow in the leaves caught my eye. It turned out to be a "glow worm." A larval firefly, actually, probably in the genus Lucidota, perhaps Lucidota atra.

As in quite a lot of insect species, larval fireflies are wingless and specialized for eating, whereas the winged adults are relatively short-lived and focused on reproduction. In some firefly species, the females remain wingless throughout their lives, and they use their bioluminescence to attract the attention of males flying overhead. (In other species, the females grow wings too, and the males and females court each other in the air.)

Given that it's often the case that many different firefly species occupy a given area, there must be some way for fireflies to identify each other by species, so as to avoid attempting to mate with a member of a different species. Males of a given species flash their signals in distinctive patterns, and females will give corresponding signals to attract males of the appropriate species.

Have I mentioned that larval fireflies are fiercely predatory? The fireflies' tissues contain noxious chemicals, and most would-be predators (toads, for example) quickly learn to leave them alone. Apparently, the larval fireflies' glow makes it easy for predators to recognize and avoid them.


So, most firefly species are predatory in the larval form, and many are predatory as adults, too. And females use their flashes to lure amorous males to them.

You can probably guess where this is going.

Firefly femmes fatales in the genus Photuris, when they spot a male in the genus Photinus flying overhead, will switch from their normal flashing pattern (which lures in male Photuris, but not male Photinus) to the flashing pattern of a female Photinus. The male Photinus flies down in anticipation of sex -- and promptly gets attacked and eaten.



On the way back to the house, I saw something odd in a tree. As it turned out, it was a balloon. Attached to it was a note from a "New Life Christian Center." The note gave a telephone number and asked the finder of the balloon to call that number. It also gave a mailing address. Looking up the address on "Yahoo maps," it seems that the balloon traveled about 85 miles in an east-northeast direction before alighting. The first line (actually the second line; the first is a Bible verse) says: "My Name Is Amanda." Judging from her handwriting, Amanda is probably about 10 years old.

I don't think I'll call the number, but I think I'll mail a short letter to the address. I know that if I'd done something like that, I'd want to know how far the balloon went, in what direction, and so forth. So I'll give a brief description of the circumstances under which I found it.

If she responds, I may feel inclined to point out that I really wish that people wouldn't release balloons like that, though. As fascinating a thing as it is to do, if the balloon should travel far-enough to wind up in the ocean, it could be ingested by a sea turtle or a seabird such as an albatross or gannett. (Sea turtles and seabirds often ingest balloons and other plastics, apparently because they mistake them for jellyfish.) Since the material of the balloon is indigestible, it blocks the animal's digestive tract, dooming it to a slow and presumably painful death.



Cheers,

Michael

[Dragar]

Originally Posted by The Lone Ranger

I love Hyla regilla!

As an aside, this is the only species of frog native to North America that has a call that sounds like "ribbit." And they're found only in the western U.S. and northwestern Canada.

The frogs (toads?) down by the pond I walk past on the way to work were going more like 'wurp', if I had to call it anything.

There were a lot of frogs, and it was a little bit uncomfortable to tip-toe through a horde of frogs doing the things frogs do in frog-mating season. Especially since they all were well camoflaged like rocks or leaves on the path, so I'd frequently find myself nearly treading on a pair of them and having to divert my foot at the last moment.

[Qingdai]

Here's a couple of sound recordings of Hyla if anyone's curious.

Sounds of Pseudacris regilla - Northern Pacific Treefrog

I have a tape recording of some Balinese frogs, but I can't find anything about them on line.

[Deadlokd]

It's Autumn, people! Autumn!

[livius drusus]

Stop being so upside down all the time.

[Deadlokd]

Originally Posted by livius drusus

Stop being so upside down all the time.

From where I'm standing you're the ones that are all upside down. How do you stop falling off?

[Dingfod]

That's what they get for mining all the Upsidaisium.

[Qingdai]

Glue, made from horses.

[Deadlokd]

Originally Posted by Dingfod

Pure animal magnetism...

Originally Posted by Qingdai

...made from horses.

[Dingfod]

Pure animal magnetism.

[Qingdai]

[JoeP]

A new thread from TLR. Better than National Geographic.

[Demimonde]

On Saturday I saw my first Bluebonnets of the season. Just a tiny little patch, but I hope soon we will have fields of them.

Then yesterday I saw the first hummingbird since it has become warm. I only saw him for an instant as he buzzed down looking at me before darting up over the house. I think it was a white eared hummingbird but again I only saw him for a second.

[Kael]

Doesn't seem much like spring here yet. We got snow dumped on us again over April Fools. Some mornings you can hear a lot of birds but I haven't seen many insects or new growth yet.

[Sock Puppet]

I actually saw some honeybees in the backyard last week. Real, no-foolin' honeybees. That probably doesn't sound too remarkable, but it may be the first time I've seen them since moving here 3 years ago. Plenty of those goddamned yellowjackets that need to die die DIE, but no honeybees. I miss the big ol' lazy bumblebees, too.

[SharonDee]

I was stalked by bumblebees at my parents' home yesterday. The critters apparently loved the scent of my hairspray or something.

[Qingdai]

"Jesus factor"

[The Lone Ranger]

I went back to the arboretum after my last class yesterday, to enjoy the Spring weather. As I was wandering around the swampy area, I spied two girls, one of them maybe 10 years old and the other 9, I'd guess. The elder of the two ("Elaine," as I later learned) was carrying a bucket.

Upon seeing me, Elaine immediate demanded, ""Are you a cop?" I told her that I wasn't. But then I thought to ask why she wanted to know. She told me that there were some boys in the park who had a dog with them, and they were breaking all the rules. Well, there is a big sign at the entrance which tells you that dogs are not allowed, and there are good reasons why that's so. I agreed that I'd speak to the boys if I encountered them. Apparently, the girls had mistaken me for some sort of authority figure.


I asked what they had in the bucket, and they proudly announced that they had caught a snake. I thought that perhaps I should investigate this, so I looked into the bucket to see that they had indeed captured a rather large Garter Snake. They weren't certain that it was safe to handle, which I thought was kind of amusing: they had caught it somehow, and were carrying it around for whatever reasons, but they didn't know if it was dangerous or not, and so were afraid to touch it.

So I gently picked the snake up, while explaining to the girls that it was perfectly harmless. I pointed out, however, that like pretty-much any animal, it would certainly defend itself if it felt threatened, which was why they shouldn't squeeze it too tightly or move quickly and startle it.

They thought that was pretty neat.

I then began my campaign to discourage them from picking up random animals and hauling them around for the heck of it. I began by pointing out that it can be bad for an animal to move it out of its home range. "After all, how would you feel if some gigantic creature grabbed you and carried you away from home. Even if it didn't hurt you [and how would you know that it didn't intend to?], how would you find your way home if it finally set you down far away from your home? How would you find shelter? How would you find food?


So, I soon extracted a promise from the girls to release "Henry" exactly where they'd found him? Him? I explained to them that "Henry," as they were calling the snake, would perhaps better be referred to as "Henrietta," since the snake was a girl.

I also noted that Henrietta had a distinct bulge in her midsection and had probably eaten fairly recently. I didn't point that out to the girls, however.



One thing about "natural" areas that get a lot of human visitors is that the wildlife often becomes quite tolerant of humans. The girls were determined to lead me to the law-breaking scoundrels who had brought a dog into the park, and so we went up the trail from the swamp to the pond. As we were walking along the pond edge, a furry critter could be seen swimming toward the shore. The girls were convinced that it was an Otter (Lontra canadensis), but I explained that it was actually a Muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus). I told them that if they moved slowly and carefully, they might be able to get a good look at it.

The muskrat was swimming toward a patch of newly-erupted grass on the shore, and I figured it would come out of the water there. Sure enough, it emerged from the water and began to munch on the grass. The girls got within a meter or so of the muskrat, and it merely glanced at them. (I made sure they didn't get any closer, or try to touch it.) They thought this was pretty neat.


On the hill above the pond, there are three concrete-lined catch basins. A small, shallow concrete channel links each one, so that if any of them overflows during a rainstorm, the overflow flows down into the next-lower catch basin. The final catch basin empties into the pond.

The highest basin is large-enough and deep-enough to be more or less permanently filled with water. As such, its leaf-lined bottom is patrolled by hundreds of bullfrog tadpoles. Frogs of various species can be seen floating in the water or lounging on the rocks that line the basin.

The second and third basins are much smaller and shallower, and so they don't support any tadpoles, since they dry out from time to time. Plus, the second one in particular was almost completely filled with dead leaves left over from the fall and winter.


There were three boys at the uppermost basin, and sure enough, they had a Pomeranian with them. One of the boys had a net, and they were trying to catch frogs in the basin.

I explained to them that having a dog in the park is against the rules, and that, more to the point, it's a bad idea. I managed to extract a promise from them to leave the dog home in the future. In the meantime, they agreed to tie its leash to a convenient tree, rather than allowing it to run free.


The boys had a bucket themselves, with two frogs and two tadpoles in it. They were attempting to catch a large Bullfrog that was floating in the center of the basin. None of the boys was willing to wade into the basin after the frog, and it was well out of their reach, so the frog appeared to be quite safe. They were referring to it as "Godzilla," and were loudly debating how they might catch it. The frog didn't seem overly concerned.


I identified the boys' catch for them, and began my campaign to convince them that it wasn't good for animals to be caught, handled, and then carried some distance away from home. (This is especially true of amphibians, with their thin, delicate skins.)

They had two bullfrog tadpoles in the water-filled bucket and -- suprisingly -- an adult male Wood Frog. The Wood Frog was forced to tread water, and couldn't get out of the bucket. Fortunately, I was able to eventually convince them to let it and the tadpoles go. The other frog was a rather large female Green Frog. She was quite gravid, and looked just-about ready to pop.

She was also evidently quite used to people, because this was just-about the most laid-back frog I've ever encountered. She evidently didn't like being forced to tread water any more than the wood frog did, but being much larger, could get out of the bucket. It seemed almost like a game. She'd jump out of the bucket and then sit there calmly, making no attempt to go anywhere else. Presently, one of the boys would notice that she'd escaped, would pick her up, and would deposit her back into the bucket. And after a minute or two, she'd leap out again.


When I picked her up to show them how to sex a frog, she made no objection whatsover, and seemed quite content to sit on my open hand for several minutes. Unfortunately, the boys were quite reluctant to release this remarkable frog, despite my increasingly-unsubtle hints that it was not good for the frog to grab it and carry it around. The youngest boy, in particular, threw a fit every time one of the girls or the other boys insisted that the frog would be happier if returned to its home. (He was about seven, I'd guess.)



I'm guessing that each of these kids lives on or very near the college campus, since I had neither seen nor heard any signs of any of their parents. It soon became evident, however, that each of them was carrying a cell phone.

The youngest girl got a call and it turned out to be her father, who was coming to get her. She insisted on picking up Henrietta and carrying the snake down to the arboretum entrance, so that she could introduce Henrietta to her father. On the one hand, I certainly didn't want to discourage the girl's obvious love of wildlife, but neither did I want her to think that it was a good idea to grab any random snakes that she might encounter. Perhaps more to the point, I was trying to impress on all of the kids that wild animals are best admired from a distance.

The girl [I never did learn her name] did at least promise to return Henrietta promptly as she dashed off to show the snake to her Dad. Presently, she returned, and all of the kids became alarmed when Henrietta opened her mouth. They thought she was threatening to bite, but I explained that this wasn't what was happening as I hurriedly took Henrietta out of the little girl's hands.

I explained that what was about to happen was a common reaction in snakes when they're stressed -- like when people grab them and scare them -- and that this is why it's bad for wild animals when people insist on grabbing and holding them.

After some writhing, Henrietta regurgitated her most recent meal, which was just recognizable as a partially-digested frog. Relieved of this burden, Henrietta became much more active, and began to quickly make her way into the nearby trees. After I pointed out that losing a meal like that was a big deal to an animal which might eat only once every few weeks, the kids were quite willing to let her go. (One of the boys insisted on taking her picture with his phone camera though.)


After that rather graphic demonstration that wild animals can become rather stressed when people catch and handle them, even the youngest boy agreed to release the frog. Hopefully, a lesson was learned by all.


Most of the kids left at about this time, but Elaine and one of the boys remained and asked if I'd help with a project of theirs. It turned out that they were hoping to empty the middle basin of dead leaves and to re-fill it with water. As this basin supported no permanent animal populations and was indeed more or less completely filled with dead leaves, I agreed that this was a worthy project. So I agreed to at least supervise.

Each of them found an old, discarded plastic cup and began to scoop muck out of the basin. (Sadly, plastic cups discarded by careless visitors were all too easy to find.) You couldn't help but admire the kids' enthusiasm and energy, but it was going to take hours at the rate they were going. After awhile, I took the bucket and, with a few scoops, had the whole basin cleaned out in a couple of minutes. There are advantages to being a bigger kid, as it happens, and my two companions were duly impressed.

I finally decided at about this time that I had to call it a day. When I left, the two kids were racing up and down the hill -- down to the pond to get a cup of water, then up to the basin to dump the water. I seriously doubt they got anywhere close to filling the basin, since sunset was arriving fast. It would probably have taken a couple of hours for them to fill the basin. Still, you couldn't help but admire their energy, enthusiasm, and dedication.

They were convinced, incidentally, that they were going to be featured in the newspaper for their good deed, and they spoke of it often. I'm not quite sure why they thought the newspaper would be eager to print the story, nor do I know how they thought that anyone from the newspaper would learn of their deeds. Still, they seemed quite sure that there would soon be a story in the local paper about their good deeds, and I saw no particular reason to burst their bubble.


Cheers,

Michael

[The Lone Ranger]

The Chorus Frogs, Wood Frogs, American Toads, Northern Leopard Frogs, and Spring Peepers are all calling away lustily tonight. Spring has finally sprung!

I found a pair of Wood Frogs by the water's edge, in amplexus. They made no protest or effort to escape when I gently picked them up to have a look at them, and indeed, seemed perfectly content to sit for a time on my nice, warm hand. I thought it best to set them back in the water after a few minutes' time, and let them get back to business.