![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosArriving at the pond this morning I noticed a slight disturbance around the edge. I knew what it was. Going over, I found the shallows teeming with tiny black tadpoles. These come from the toads which were at their peak of singing and breeding around May 11.
A little way from shore I noticed a pale shadow shift when I approached. It was a young snapping turtle no larger than my hand, trying to hide in the mud. Impulsively I seized a stick and attempted to sweep it onto the bank for a photo, but only succeeded in stirring up sediment. I stood and waited for the pale cloud to settle, occasionally poking at turtle-shaped lumps on the bottom, but the beastlet was in its element—water and mud—and I never saw it again.
I was appalled at the number of tadpoles I had inadvertantly stranded in mud on the shore, so tried to rescue as many as I could. But if nature had intended for the average tadpole to survive, it would have made them fewer and less fragile. If all of these grew to adulthood we would have to switch snow tires for toad tires. I have written about this before, but it never ceases to bewilder me.
While scrambling along the slippery shore I got mud in my sandals. I can still feel its dry rasp between my toes.
A little way from shore I noticed a pale shadow shift when I approached. It was a young snapping turtle no larger than my hand, trying to hide in the mud. Impulsively I seized a stick and attempted to sweep it onto the bank for a photo, but only succeeded in stirring up sediment. I stood and waited for the pale cloud to settle, occasionally poking at turtle-shaped lumps on the bottom, but the beastlet was in its element—water and mud—and I never saw it again.
I was appalled at the number of tadpoles I had inadvertantly stranded in mud on the shore, so tried to rescue as many as I could. But if nature had intended for the average tadpole to survive, it would have made them fewer and less fragile. If all of these grew to adulthood we would have to switch snow tires for toad tires. I have written about this before, but it never ceases to bewilder me.
While scrambling along the slippery shore I got mud in my sandals. I can still feel its dry rasp between my toes.
