In my last blog, I wrote about ‘the joy of frogs’ and I said I thought it was our collective duty to cherish them when they crossed our paths.
Well, nature took me at my word and threw down the challenge. We’ve had tiny frogs crossing our family path this week, in relative abundance. I’m not sure where they came from but I think they might have been washed into our property from a neighbour’s garden higher up the hill.
Two nights ago, there was a tremendous thunderstorm in our area and in the morning, Matthew’s sharp eyes spotted some tiny frogs jumping around the tiled pathway behind our kitchen. When I say tiny, I mean they were about the size of my pinkie fingernail (that’s Liam’s hand in the photo, by the way, but it’s still a good reference, as his hands are now about the same size as mine).
So Liam and I got into the act. Matthew disappeared to do other things because he doesn’t really like ‘tiny creatures’ right now. But that’s okay. He’ll get there.
Anyway, Liam and I went about catching froglets so that we could transfer them to a section of the garden where they would have moisture, plants and soil instead of sunshine, tiles and no protection, which would, of course, inevitably have fried them and made us very sad.
All told, we transported almost 20 little frogs to this section of the garden, which is secluded from our dogs and cats. In the process, we also rescued a tiny toad, which Matthew had spotted lying on its back looking very poorly. It had been flipped over, somehow, and on the smooth tiled surface been unable to right itself.
So we righted it, and we transplanted it. If you look very carefully at the picture you can see the ‘toadlet’ on the leaf and you can see that it’s about double the size of the froglet.
And I’m happy to tell you that when I tried to coax the little toad onto the leaf before I put it carefully into the catchment container, it puffed itself up very crossly. This, I believe, is a toad-ish protection mechanism, so I was delighted that it seemed to be recovering quite well from its upside-down ordeal.
Anyway, we transplanted between 16 and 20 froglets into our ‘secret garden’, in the end. I don’t expect them all to stay there forever, and I know that some of them will escape as fast as they can, and possibly come to grief sooner rather than later, but we just wanted to give them a fighting chance while they were so small.
So we cherished our frogs, in our garden, and it felt good.