By late May the tadpoles
were changing. Little legs were appearing on some of them. But things were not
going well, for the tadpoles were not alone in the big bold universe that was
the old baby bathtub. Other things wiggled and wriggled in the water. To us the
tadpoles were objects of fascination and stories. To the wigglers though they
were a food source.
Me and my youngest went to
look at the tadpoles one morning to find some of them had wrigglers attached
themselves to the tadpoles. I was horrified and experienced a vivid memory
flash of the hugger in Alien leaping onto John Hurt’s face. I managed to poke
and shake most of them off, but one remained clamped on a tadpole that was
listless and clearly dying. We began an emergency evacuation, scooping up
tadpoles and putting them in to a plastic tub.
It was no surprise as the
evacuation went on, that my son, like every four year old on the planet,
quickly forgot the mission and began inspecting the tadpoles. Why wouldn’t he?
After all, nature is incredible. Every time children play and engage and create
adventures in it they are increasing their empathy for the world
around
them and all things in it.
So I’m very happy to let my children play in the wilds and inspect all
its little creatures. Cuts from thorns become heroic scars. The bugs and beasts
that normally turn my stomach, become, when held in my sons’ hands, magically
transformed into fascinating little creatures. I try not to stifle my
children’s curiosity but emphasise the importance of returning mini beasts to
their own families unharmed.
I asked my son to be gentle
with the tadpoles. But while his imagination and curiosity are nimble and quick
his little fingers are still a little clumsy. Another tadpole died. It and its
dead compadre – the victim of the wrigglers - lay still on the grass. I know
they were only tadpoles but for a moment I felt utterly bereft. I felt like a
terrible parent. My little one told me he felt ‘sad’.
We poured the remaining
tadpoles into the fresh clean water in the bath tub. My oldest son, the reader
of nature books, joined us. He figured the problem was the bath tub didn’t look
like a proper pond. So he added some big mossy boulders and sure enough as he
did so my synapses sparked and suddenly I understood the problem. A bath tub, no
matter how clean is not a suitable environment for any creature. Tadpoles and
frogs are part of nature. A bath tub filled with fresh water is not. It is
utterly alien to nature. Now I
understood the problem, I had to think of a solution.
Later we sat in the sunlight
my boys discussed the Great Wriggler Emergency.
As they chatted the morning’s
events became as big and as full of meaning as the works of Shakespeare, packed
with daring deeds and terrible deaths. I looked through the book that is my
oldest son’s constant companion, ‘Garden Wildlife of Britain & Europe’ by
Michael Chinery.
A few pages in I found what I was looking for. Advice on how to make a wildlife
pond in your own garden. The baby bath tub was going to get a massive makeover. The boys were ecstatic with the idea.
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In the evening, after the boys had gone to bed I checked out the Frog Factsheet online at the Irish Peatland Conservation Council . My doubts vanished as I read about the threats to frogs from pollution and the loss of habitat. I decided to begin transforming the bath tub the next day. According to Michael Chinery, we would need oxygenating plants and water from the pond up the Yeti Hill to ‘seed’ our own little pond with bugs and microscopic life. I had fun making notes and letting the ideas roll around. It seemed a good end to the day. However, the day’s adventures were still not fully played out.
* * *
Enjoy
this. You might want to read Adventure with Frogs: Chapter Five
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