Caretaking
A dozen tadpoles hatched in a dog bowl on the front porch.
We were excited to be new caretakers,
and nervous
and added fresh water.
By the morning they had died
from the shock, or the chlorine.
A week later a new batch hatched in a dog bowl on the front porch.
We tried not to make the same mistake twice.
We let them grow,
and I collected water from the lake to add slowly.
We moved them to a larger bucket
and let the rain water fill it up.
Dozens more hatched from the remaining eggs.
Too many for the bucket
so we moved them to a large tub.
Added river rocks that Hazel collected from the creek, one by one,
carried in her mouth the 1/2 mile back on our daily walks.
We have plenty.
I chose carefully.
Making sure there would be room for them to emerge from the water when they were ready.
That day I added a few gallons of pond water to the tub so they would have fresh nutrients.
By Morning over 1/2 of the new babies had died.
I didn’t visit them for a few days.
But they’re there, thriving.
Collecting rain water,
protected from the sun.
Growing and eating mosquito larvae
and whatever drops from the trees.
A chickadee protects them and harasses me every time I step towards their plastic pond.
I’m looking forward to watching them grow legs,
and arms and
hopping away.
That is success,
when the bucket is empty.
12 weeks.
12 weeks for hanks knees to heal,
12 weeks for tadpoles to become frogs.
12 weeks feels like forever,
12 weeks go quickly,
and the year is 1/2 way through some how.
The longest days are here right now.
The sun sticks around until after our early bedtime.
By the time we miss the long shadows,
the frogs will be in the ferns
and singing us to sleep.