Years ago me and my brothers used to catch tadpoles by the hundreds in the drainage ditch at the end of the driveway leading to our farmhouse. The stagnant water would seethe with them, and as it dried up over summer the tadpoles would die, stinking the water up pretty bad. Nice.
There’s nowhere near as many about now – frogs everywhere are in decline – but there’s still a few about, it seems.
Like this cute wee beastie, which my sister-in-law Sarah found in her bathroom this morning. Goodness knows what it was doing in there, or how it got in.
So of course Sarah caught it and brought it over for me and the girls (their first frog!) to look at. They were pretty impressed. So was I.
I had thought that we only had the large Southern Bell frogs on the farm; I’d not seen a brown one before (although R., growing up in the Wairarapa, was familiar only with these little brown ones).
Later in the day we walked it down to the nearest creek, putting it into a pool teeming with tasty-to-frogs insect life (“it’s an insect city!” exclaimed B₂) where hopefully it’ll stay.