Life in Maine

Updated on September 6, 2000

In the Company of Frogs

For reasons which I've never fully understood, frogs are one of those rare members of the animal kingdom that are almost universally looked upon as "good" by us human beings. Unlike puppies and baby seals, they're not particularly fluffy and cuddly, yet somehow these gangly green creatures have managed to endear themselves to us. Of course, ambassadors like "Kermit the Frog" and the Budweiser frogs are a bit of froggy public relations gold that only helps to cement our favorable view of these critters. Think about it - it's awfully difficult to fathom a situation in which you'd dislike a frog. And so it was with more than a little delight that I discovered a mere two days after my pond was created out of nothingness that a couple of frogs had taken up residence there.

Although we are regularly peppered with images of frogs in art, advertising, children's books, and the like, the plain truth is that I have rarely come face-to-face with a real, live frog in my lifetime. In fact, I think the last time I've dealt directly with frogs was back in the eighth grade when we had to dissect the unfortunate, formaldehyde-entombed amphibians. Since that time, I have certainly encountered a fair share of toads, the frog's poor stepchild, but I had little or no contact with the actual smooth-skinned, green , 100 percent pure frog. A number of years ago a local entrepreneur tried his hand at dispensing live bait from vending machines, and one of the selections was frogs. Frogs, in fact, proved to be a bestseller, although a bit of market research revealed that the majority of them were being bought by children not for bait, but as something to play with. I was tempted to buy one myself, but never did. And after one summer, the vending machines never returned, so apparently even frogs weren't enough to keep the business afloat.

So, after managing to avoid me all these years, I certainly came to wonder how the frogs managed to find my pond so quickly. Where, exactly, were they living before the pond came into existence? The next closest pond to mine is a good half mile away. Were they hiding in the woods all these years just waiting for the chance to inhabit a pond should one miraculously appear? If there are any frog experts out there, I'd more than welcome your wisdom concerning how these creatures managed to sniff out this new venue almost instantaneously.

At first there was one frog. Then, within a few days, there were two. That number quickly grew to about a half a dozen. It being early summer, froggy thoughts, of course, were concentrated on froggy procreation. June and July nights were filled with the croakings of frogs looking for love. And, apparently, at least a few of them did find love, because it wasn't too long before clusters of frog eggs appeared in the pond. Seeing as how I had, by way of creating the pond, provided the means for these frogs to multiply , I guess you could say I had become a froggy pimp.

As the frog eggs matured, the small back dots in the center of the eggs became increasingly recognizable as tadpoles. Then, one day while checking out the pond, I noticed that the egg sacs were gone. I figured that something had decided they would make a good meal and helped themselves. Several weeks later, however, it became overwhelmingly apparent that my previous assumption was way off the mark. While looking into the pond, a fat tadpole swam up from the depths and snatched something off the surface. Then another could be spotted. And another. And another... Soon it became apparent that there were hundreds of tadpoles swimming around in the pond.

And although I am surely a frog advocate, the realization that the pond could soon be overrun with hundreds of the croaking critters made me pause to consider the effects of an ecosystem that was truly out of balance. Should I be adding some fish to the brew? Or, perhaps, a hungry turtle?

In the end, I decided to do nothing, owing more to the fact that I was too busy to go out and find some fish or a turtle rather than having made a conscious decision to let the frogs balance themselves somehow. And, for awhile, it appeared that far more frogs than I anticipated could make a living off of this small pond. Dozens of the tadpoles grew legs and became real, live, certified frogs. Visions of vending machines filled my head, but only briefly. I was concerned anew, however, as to how all of these new frogs would be assimilated into what had to be a finite housing market.

One day, while sitting in my office, I looked out upon the pond in the backyard and noticed three or four crows frolicking in the shallows at the perimeter of the pond, using it as a giant birdbath. I quickly broke out the binoculars to get a closer look at this spectacle. It was then I realized that the birds weren't merely grooming. Every so often, one would poke it's head under the water and in the next instant I would see the soft white underbelly of a soon-to-be-former frog dangling from the crow's beak. Never mind the lack of fish or turtles, nature had provided a frog predator on it's own.

Of course, after witnessing the carnage of a single visit by a murder of crows, my thoughts turned from wondering how to control the frog population to wondering if the crows would wipe them out entirely. In the ensuing weeks, my observations seem to indicate that the frog population does fluctuate quite a bit, but on average seems to hold steady at about 6-8 frogs. I'm quite sure the makeup of these 6-8 frogs changes on a regular basis, but there are two frogs in particular that have grown to impressive sizes (about the size of a closed fist) and are apparently crow-savvy. I witnessed one floating in the middle of the pond as the crows did their bathing/hunting thing at the pond's edge.

Hopefully, these mega-frogs will hang in there and serve as the genesis for many tadpoles to come. They may also face other predatory risks as well, however. A fox has been an occasional visitor, and there are a couple of cats which hang around the pond perimeter on a regular basis, although I haven't seen either of those actually walk off with a frog. Some ducks have also become frequent visitors, although I'm quit sure they are more interested in bugs than frogs, seeing as they spend most of their time parading through the grass around the pond, scavenging for morsels. And I certainly can't comment on what might be showing up at night, although I have heard some very eerie noises emanating from the backyard on occasion.

I'm not really sure why I dug a pond in the first place, other than I thought it would be a scenic addition to the landscape. I didn't count on it being an education in frog life as well. Who knows, next year by this time I may we the one answering all of the frog questions rather than posing them.

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