Photo Gallery: Tadpole Saga Grand Finale, and the Moral of the Story is.....

I suppose many of you are wondering what became of the baby 'grass frogs'. Well, as it turns out, they were not little innocent elfin grass frogs. The Dr. of Amphibians did not get back to me, so I did some more research. I watched as the black line through the eye faded. I watched as some skin turned translucent and shimmery pastel green and others turned blotchy beige or dark green. There were two common traits. One being two stripes of neon yellow down each side. The other trait was a thin, black-line on both sides of the mouth following from the corners of the mouth to the tip of the nose. This created a sort of thin, black-lined V when looking at them head on but was not noticeable from a side-view perspective.

I still do not have a positive I.D. from a pro. But, after much internet research for images of various growth stages and much fretting, it would appear that the rescue was that of a hibernating bear from it's nap, though I am not positive. Had I not intervened, the tadpoles would have descended with the water into the gutters along with those I was unable to rescue. They'd have fed on any other tadpole species in their protected gutter habitat. They would have emerged to greet the glorious sunshine after a lengthy climb up the gutter wall and they'd be wearing their new translucent shimmery Cuban Tree frog skin, just like those I failed to rescue did.

We know that our street puddles fill with thousands upon thousands of species of tadpoles every time it rains but the tadpole habitat experience has shown us that predominantly, one species emerges surviving off the others in the habitat. When I checked the street pools after those 2 rainstorm days last week, the discovery was astounding. The process had started over again. The pools rippled; alive with thousands upon thousands of tadpoles, so small they were very nearly eggs.

The habitats I set up were as close a mimic of the original without spending lots of money. They were exposed to sun's scorching heat and consequently, the cooking-temperature water. The habitats were open to any and all would be predators. Lizards visited frequently enjoying the bounty as the frog lets hopped into their brave new world. Blue jays and herons, egrets, and ibis, all came to call throughout the process. Not even darkness brought respite. A baby-toting Mother wolf spider was spied one night hunting the frog lets as they emerged.

The week of the back-leg appearances, thousands of the fallen ascended from the gutters with the rising water level to once again claim the light, most sporting back legs and an appetite. Hundreds, thousands even, had survived hidden in the gutters. As I watched our fostered, newly formed tree frogs out smart the lizards by patiently remaining statue-still on their chosen hibiscus leaves, I realized - no matter how badly some would like to, exercising every extermination tactic the human race can contrive, there's no holding back the tide.