Polliwog Saviour

I visited the stream from which I took the tadpoles just before Christmas.  As I anticipated, there was nothing but drying mud and bird tracks.  Just like last year.  It only goes to show that life is just a gamble.  Some frogs win, some lose.  Choose your water-hole carefully folks!  In this case at least there should be a few winners in the cosmic game of Pass-the-gene-parcel if I can only keep most of my couple of dozen refugees alive until completion of their ontogeny.

The little blighters have eaten all their floating weed and are gobbling up fish food at an amazing rate.  Aerating the pond seems to have livened them up.  I just hope they will be grateful enough when grown to give me some good photo opportunities.  And play Duelling Banjo Frogs for me.


About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Autobiography, Depression, Family, frogs, Humour, Life, don't talk to me about life!, Lifestyle, Music, Nature, opinion, Pastafarianism, Relationships, Science, Wildlife and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Polliwog Saviour

  1. Alan says:

    My 1200th Post. .


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