Pond Life - WW #37

I have spent most summers beside this particular pond since 1960, right beside the lake. This is a photo from my high school days, with our wee doggie.




I find pond life most interesting. This pond changes every day, depending upon seasons, weather and cloud cover, flora and fauna. It varies from lakes, rivers, and oceans. I created a summer YouTube pond video of the insects last year. Nature, in water, fascinates me.







This is our watery pond: summer, winter, spring.


Now, Mother Nature is someone from whom to glean knowledge. We can all learn from one another, human or animal.

We have both tadpoles and snapping turtles in our pond. This pond is a lovely one. And millions of frog's eggs, ready to hatch into tadpoles. Here they are in the murky, dark water, with one tadpole swimming over top.

I walked down to the pond to do my thrice daily inspection. I spotted this black ribbon of sperm-like critters, moving like a seething ribbon along the edge of the water. The tadpoles have hatched by the thousands. Dark, for camouflage, they are about as long as my baby finger is wide. Moving constantly, they eat of the micro-organisms, algae and larvae that thrive in the cozy pond, made quite warm by the sun.

Eventually, the cycle of life complete, the pond will dry up in hot August weather, barring another rainy July like last year. And the annual ritual will be complete, the cycle done.

As I walked along the edge of the pond, in bare feet to better feel the hot rocks and warm my soul, it occurred to me that my old friend, the snapper, must be in heaven. I spotted it across the pond, motionless as a rock, surrounded by breakfast, lunch and many dinners to come.

I couldn't get a close shot, but knew that s/he spent all summer in my pond. I was determined to have patience and to be vigilant.

I came back the next day, and here was my buddy on the close shore. It sat there watching me, feigning inanimate rock-like status, but it couldn't fool this old frog catcher. Like a stone, tadpoles swimming over, under, around and on top of it.

But it sat with Buddha-like quietness, waiting for the stupid two-legged one to leave it alone. I snapped a photo of a teeny tadpole in close-up on its toad-like, rough leg.

I have never picked it up before, but my hands were clean, and I wanted a look.

It turns out it is blind in its right eye. I had never been this close to be able to perceive its disability.

Its under belly is interesting, fit for pond life. Long tail for navigating.

Above all, we do no harm, and I put it back down on the rock as it scrambled back into the pond.

I tried to ponder the lessons.

• You sit and meditate, and eventually sustenance will come to you.

• All around it was food on the hoof, so to speak. But it couldn't see it.
• When put it down again, it could not see me. If you do not keep an eye out (it only has one) they'll get you.
• Be mobile, don't carry too much junk with you.