Going Back In Mind: A Modern Day Visit Down Memory Lane To The "Froggy Pond" of Old ~ Original Photography and Story of Sorts
"Ducks Ducks Everywhere. But A Simple Frog, I Cannot Spare." -Children's Ditty from Somewhere or Another
Or: "If a duck was turned into frog, how many ducks would you need to make a tonload of frogs?"
A Visit To The Local, Moderne-Day Frog Pond
Today was an absolutely gorgeous day. Sun shining, warmish temperature of around 60 degrees, and a weekend day. Of course, besides the thought of this being a weekend, 'nice day' is not a high bar to reach for this time of year. It's been raining pretty much non-stop since early January. So it's a good idea to get "out" whenever possible.
All whinging about the weather aside, it was a great day to leave the chair and stretch my bunched-up computer legs. What better way to enjoy the day than to head over to the local frog pond.
A large, natural swale of an area in my neighborhood that fills with rain or snow-water in the winter, usually surrounded by nice tall grass, reeds, bushes and other wildlife-positive habitat of the natural world's vegetative whatnot shelf.
The ten minute walk to the pond took about twelve minutes, and once there, I proceeded to stroll the edges of the large body of water. Wandering about, smelling the wet grass, mud and other earthy smells of the pond, really took me back to a time long ago in my storied days of youth. It was a pleasurable walk down memory lane, even if the lane of old is probably now paved over with a Wally-World parking lot. In my mind, it is still just like it was in years long-since past.
Travel Back in Memoric Time: The Original 'Froggy Pond' of Bennjamin Lane
Many years ago, my grandparents lived in an area of our hometown that was expanding ever-so-rapidly out into the 'wilderness' of the Midwestern wilds. 'Pushing out' at the urban edges at an alarming rate. The inevitability of new, modern, citywide expansion...that bag-dratted Development thing. The ever occurring, ever expanding push into the wilds of the world around us, to accommodate more and more human beans.
I think this thing sort of thing must be world-wide and universal, and has been going on for a very long time. Pondering this incessant bulge of humanity out into nature reminds me of a classic poster I recently saw on a restaurant wall, by the talented artist - R. Crumb, aptly titled: 'A Short History Of America.' I highly recommend you check out this abbreviated lesson of human expansion and sadness of change, displayed in cartoon form. It's a classic.
Back To Grandma and The Old Pond At Hand
My grandparents new brick house was perched on the very edge of this urbane frontier. Down the driveway, turn left, walk a block, turn left again, and walk at a 45 degree angle to the midday sun, and vwaalaah...the un-touched, outer plain 'wilds' of my hometown. Grassy meadow and field, as far as the eye can see. Which when you are young and short, is a LONG way. Or not long, depending on mental perspective and height of the grass.
And at the very center of this wilderness "right over there!", was the 'Froggy Pond.' A small, water-filled swale of a pond, much much smaller than the one pictured today, though fully surrounded by grass, large reeds and Cattail plants.
In hindsight, the original Froggy Pond of old was probably all of 60 feet across, and completely round. But our perspective back then may have been a bit skewed. Let's face it, when your eyes are perched only two feet above the surface of the earth, just about everything looks larger than life. But to us, the pond was huge, it was exotic, and it was MAGICAL.
Of Root Beer Floats, "Long Walks", and Chasing Amphibian Dreams
Our little trip over to the pond area usually started in the same way each time we visited the grandparents. After a rousing draught of homemade root beer floats, my grandmother would ask the standard, imminent question we had each been anxiously anticipating since arrival in our parents Oldsmobile: "What would you like to do today?" In full-flurried unison, my older brother, younger sister and I would chime in, ever-so eagerly, "The Froggy Pond"! This response never failed to make my dear grandmother smile and glow with happiness.
We would soon trundle off down the driveway, my sister and I held tight by a hand on either grandma side, while my older brother boldly walked, skipped and spun about ahead of us, brilliantly showing us the way to the pond.
We couldn't have been more than 13 in total combined years of age, if you stacked us all up together like chronological cord-wood. We were small and young, we were full of root beer and vanilla ice cream, but we were full-on game for the pond.
It never took too long to walk the block and a half, but the anticipation within us during the short-legged, 'long walk' was palpable. And it did not help alleviate any of this anticipatory buildup of anxiety, when the glorious sounds of the pond were so efficiently carried our way on the warm summer breezes, once we hit the edge of the vacant lot.
That unmistakable, shrill 'Toooh-Wheeeee' of a Red wing Blackbird, waving happily to and fro in the breeze on the end of a fuzzy, thuringer-shaped Cattail blossom. And the frogs. Oodles of frogs! All croak-chiming together at the same time...our quiet, small-person approach still not yet noted. (In further adult hindsight, they must have been making quite a racket.)
What excitement! We pulled hard at the strong-hand grip of the grandmother reigns, all to no avail, until we got close enough to be let loose. Which invariably scared the oodle-load of frogs into their natural, self-assured safety of silence.
Sneaky Children, Even Sneakier Frogs
And this is when the fun really began. We would stealthily move along the shore of the pond, inching our way toward the water's edge, to sneak up on any un-suspecting frogs. Suspecting or not, there were seldom any frogs to be seen once we arrived at the gentle-lapping shore.
Undaunted, we would continue on, slow as a stone, diligently perusing the water's edge. Quite sure of our impending success, we would continue to creep among the reeds on the grassy bank. Suddenly, one of the peepers would let out a squeaky croak, not unlike a belching bird, from the OPPOSITE side of the pond. Darn! Off we'd go, circling around the water body as fast as possible, to try to sneak up on THAT frog. Not an easy task. This was the warm, humid Midwest. The grass was green. The reeds were green. The algae and water plants covering the top of the pond were green. And you can guess what color all of our new-found, elusive frog-friends were. And they were sneaky.
Once 'over there', we would stand on that bank, intently peering and perusing away, not seeing anything but a whole lot more green in the algae and muck. Only to be enticed once again by another frog on the exact OTHER side of the pond. We'd head back around again, running as fast as our chubby little legs could carry us, pointing and shouting back "come ON Grandma, he's right over THERE now"! A mad dash once more, to the pond-side we had just returned from.
Back and forth and back again. And again. I'm pretty sure the frogs were messing with us. Luckily my grandmother was very game, or my parents were paying her a whole lot to babysit us, which in adult hindsight I rather doubt. Grandmothers usually work for free. I think she was just one very patient, fun-loving grandma who liked frogs.
And this was one smart group of frogs. (Or one, very fast swimming, devious frog. Which I also doubt.) Every now and then, one frog would surface, point a little snout and two eyeballs up through the surface glop in our direction, allowing just enough view of them to keep us thoroughly interested in our pursuits. It worked.
This was at times a bit maddening, if not always a rollicking bunch of fun. And in the end, we were often quite a mess. There is nothing like a water-soaked, algae infused, natural pond liner of Midwestern silty clay loam to fully test the strength of the "Advanced Cleaning Power" detergents of the then-burgeoning world of Modern Laundry Science. Particularly when coupled with the determined stealth of a highly motivated trio of amateur frog sneaker-up-on-er's and a "full day" at the Froggy Pond. (Time, like distance, is a disjoint function with the very young. We were probably there for an hour or so.)
We never did get close to a frog, let alone catch one. Which was probably just fine with my grandmother. And the frogs. But we were always beside ourselves with joy, and usually ended up quite filthy in our pursuit of Mother Nature and her amphibials' of the pond. I do wish I had a picture or two of our cherished Froggy Pond. But I suppose that is un-necessary, as it is fully etched in my warm and fondest memories for life.
My Froggy Pond of Today.
The Modern Froggy Pond of Today
Jump ahead more than a few years, and many human miles, and here we are in the now. Standing at the edge of the 'Froggy Pond' in my adult neighborhood of today. And though it looks a bit similar, if not a whole lot larger, my grandmother is no longer here, and there does not appear to be any frogs at this pond today either.
Possibly it is the recent habitat work they did, machine-chewing out the brush and trees that were clogging the edges of the pond. Or maybe it is still too early in the year for the peepers. Possibly the frogs are sound asleep just now, until the cooler night air descends. I would make something up here in explanation, but it would no doubt be less-than-scientific. All I know, is there are no frogs to call me into the action of rapid pursuit, like I did so many years before.
Then again, maybe this is a good thing. Running wildly back and forth around this large body of water, as the frogs call me to and fro like the horizontal yo-yo days of old, may not look quite the same at my age to the other pond visitors. Plus, this pond area is much larger. It would take a LONG time to get back and forth, if the frogs called to me as before. So nevermind. But there are plenty of other things to wander about and look at, and to keep my camera busy.
Ducks, ducks ducks! Twaddling about all over the pond. They probably stopped by this body of water for some paddling exercise, and to eat and rest, before continuing on their way into their long-flight journey of the North American flyway.
Today there are many ducks on the pond...Mallards, Wigeons, and the ever-cool Shoveler ducks.
A Northern Shoveler duck. Note the very flat, broad bill, used for "shoveling" food. These ducks bob in a small cluster of ducks on the water, and paddle in a tight circle together. It looks rather comical when they do this, kind of like they are lost or confused. But this action really works. It creates a spinning effect and a whirlpool forms in the water, which sucks debris, bugs, and other duck delicacies off the pond floor and up to water column toward the surface. They then sweep their odd, flat bills back and forth in the water, kind of like a laundry basket, to filter the goodies into their mouths to eat. Very smart and efficient little water shovelers. Wonder when they figured this cool thing out?
Dabbling Ducks. I noticed that these Mallards have a quite a penchant for 'going vertical' on a regular basis. The Mallards are the most likely to dance on their heads while bottom feeding, officially called 'dabbling', but the Shovelors utilize this behavior as well. It IS a bit comical to watch. Just don't tell them I mentioned that.
Photographers Note: The two pictures of ducks above this one are a bit grainy. This photo of the pond shows how truly far away the ducks were (the tiny specks of white, floating about on the water). The duck photos were taken with a small, hand-held Lumix camera on 40X digital zoom! Please don't report me to Audubon magazine. This is NOT a preferred way to visually demo a duck...
Another classic dabbling Mallard bum in action.
And Now We Visually Move Over To The Turtle Side Of Things -- Pond Number Two
After several moments or more of messing about at the duck-pond side of the road, I crossed over to the second pond on the other side of the road. This water body is a reserved area for native species of turtles living in the county. A set-aside for them, to have a place to live, nest and breed.
Unfortunately, the turtles have to live with people and THEIR habitat on the banks beyond the pond. Evidently the housing areas had to put in turtle exclusion fences, to keep the turtles from wandering up onto the lawns to nest. So much for a totally natural habitat within which to turtle live and play. Thus, the turtles are having problems in life. "Thanks for the GREAT siting for our set-aside, people". -Heavy turtle sigh.
Though I hoped to, I did not see any turtles while at this pond. But I captured the nice evening light as the sun went down behind me. Enjoy, I know I sure did.
Well, thanks for joining me on my wanderful trip back to the Froggy Pond of old. It was a grand day out, and I hope you enjoyed it as well.
~ Finto ~
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Extraordinary post dear friend @ddschteinn beautiful images, well done congratulations
Thank you so much @jlufer, I really appreciate the look and compliments. Means a lot. Have a wonderful day/night. dds
It's a nice place with beautiful nature and nice environment! And your story is much interesting! Thanks so much for sharing! This makes me feel fresh in the early morning like this! :D
Thank you... so very glad you enjoyed it. Nice it can make you feel good in the morning, which is sometimes hard to do when the clock says to get up way too early ( :
Ha ha! That's why I feel refreshed and really happy when seeing your photos and reading your post! Thanks again for sharing this! ;)
It sounds like you had a great time. I really like those action shots of the dabbling ducks, lol! Maybe you will find a frog or two as the spring gets further along. You better get your mud boots ready! ; )