Tag Archives: Newman

Frog follies part 2

Tadpole in water on pool cover.

One of our guests (blurred to protect identity – of photographer)

Coming back from a beach vacation is never pleasant, especially when you start wondering and worrying about what might’ve befallen the house while you were away. My wife and I got home from one blissful, relaxing Florida trip to find our A/C had conked during a sweltering June. Another time, a pinhole-sized leak in a pipe drenched the basement. This summer, the place stayed cool and dry. We just had a bumper crop of tadpoles in the backyard pool.

Yep, those frogs are after us again! Not content with swimming in the pool and serenading us every night, the nervy little critters commandeered the place as their personal Plato’s Retreat and maternity ward. I tell you, friends, if I weren’t such a placid, unflappable, Zen type of guy, I’d be going off on frogs like Newman on dogs: “They have no place living among us! Vile, useless creatures…”

Backyard pool with cover.

The frog farm

Of course, they’re not really useless; among other things, frogs eat mosquitoes, which at the moment are upon us like a Sharknado. The tads weren’t born in the pool itself either, since we’d left it covered, but were in the rainwater that collected on top.

When we first got home, the water seemed ALIVE! with them, probably dozens, wiggling their little tails and darting frantically all over the place. It reminded me of certain, uh, male anatomical scenes from one of those old sex-ed movies we watched in school. (I know, I’m dating myself again. Did I mention the movie was in black and white and was made on something called “film?”)

The population shrank considerably in the next few days, probably becoming a weekend brunch for the birds. I would’ve let the survivors hang around until they grew up, but when I did a little research to refresh my high-school biology, I found it might take 3-4 months, and I figured by that time they’d probably croak.* So this morning, I scooped the remaining taddies into a bucket of water and dropped them into a creek where they might have a chance. Did any of them bother to thank me? Humph.


*One benefit of being older is the freedom to employ bad, overused puns without irony or explanation. Got a problem with that, pilgrim?