A couple of weeks ago, the Stinky One found a little swimming thing during an otherwise routine father-daughter paddle boat excursion. I am, I will admit, somewhat wary of things found on daddy-Stink excursions in our pond, but this particular found thing turned out to be a fat little tadpole.
A true naturalist would likely study the little guy, and then put him back in his own environment. We, however, (and by we, I mean me) are hunting desperately for things to do while not watching TV so we googled "raising tadpoles" instead.
disclaimer: If you are a tadpole rights activist, please scroll to the next picture.
Those of you with honed powers of observation will note with interest the tiny jar placed strategically beside our frog habitat. La Stink put it there for use during water changing. She was very careful to catch him in the little jar before changing his water.
Because I judged myself a dexterous and capable gal, I proceeded with significantly less caution and because I seem, with the advent of Stink's Summer o' Fun, to be especially gifted at traumatizing the poor miss, proceeded to pour the tadpole down the drain. (gasp)
Before you all begin to picket and chant, please know that I was, consequently tried and found guilty of accidental frogicide, and sentenced to finding more tadpoles for raising. So I googled "finding tadpoles" and, with girl in tow, dutifully went a-hunting.
Turns out, frogs lay their eggs in round gelatinous masses full of hundreds of eggs. They lay them in still, shady waters close to shore. They were not, in the early weeks of June, difficult to ferret out.
We gathered a bunch and waited.
We have 8 of these pudgy little swimmers. I'll keep you all updated.
As a side note, the girl swears she saw the lost 'pole in the toilet. (is that even possible? and if it is, has he truly returned to seek his frogish revenge? Stay tuned for more of Stink's Summer o' Fun or - the Frogman Come-ith.)