It was time for the annual clean-the-muck-out-of-the-pond event. Oak leaves, acorns, twigs, and natural pond ick gather at the bottom over the course of the year, so each spring I get in the pond and clean it out (leaving a little sediment to keep the bacteria levels balanced). As I was making preparations, Michael came in and warned me that a rather loud splash as he walked by the pond might indicate that I might not be alone in said body of water while doing maintenance. In fact, I might just get eaten. Frog, I assumed. Given the splash, probably another American Bullfrog. And while I was correct, what I could not have predicted was that this frog would be as big as a planet. Well, almost.

It’s a little intimidating as the water level lowers in the pond (with you in it), knowing that at some point a fish, frog, or other critter is going to wiggle, squirm, jump, slide, or dart past you. After a while, the water was low enough that I could more easily get some of the oak leaves and other natural debris out, and I knew that meant I would soon encounter the creature. I intended to do my best not to squeal, shriek, or scream, the automatic reaction to things moving fast in the murky waters surrounding me. But when not just one but two frogs started jumping in opposite directions from the muck and then ping-ponging around the pond up, over, and under my legs, the squeals just naturally came. I couldn’t help it.

Eventually I got back to work, lowering the pond level more and rediscovering one of the frogs in the muck. Her belly, brown and rather alien-like, was what I noticed, and it’s what I gingerly had touched before when the frog ping-pong thing had happened. I wasn’t going to fall for it again. I KNEW that was the frog. What I did do was use the water to rinse enough of the muck away to at least find her head… and was that monstrous leg hers, too? Holy frog-moly, I thought. She’s huge.

And so the preparations for capture began. Nolan decided that he wanted the job, which was good because I could then get out and clean up enough to take pictures of the process. During the time the pond was temporarily human-less, the second frog managed to escape from the pond, and Big Momma at least managed to get herself out from under the pipe, which would make it much easier for us to get her out of the pond.

Fortunately, the big girl stayed calm while Nolan carefully collected her from the pond.

She definitely is larger than our former record-holder, Frogzilla. With a body length of about 8 inches (and crazy-long legs), she has now been dubbed The Behemoth, champion of whatever Great Stems frog contest this is. Really, she wins them all.Even the beauty contests, perhaps, but only if the pond muck gets washed off first.

As much as we adore frogs, we’ve learned that American Bullfrogs are just too big for our hot-tub pond. They drive away the smaller native frogs (or worse, eat them). And they are capable of eating birds that come down to bathe and drink in the shallow areas of the pond. So during maintenance, if we have a chance to relocate a bullfrog, we do so.

There is a very large pond just beyond our neighborhood, and we expect it’s the pond she originally came from. And so that’s where we returned her to.

We invited our friend Stepan to join us for her release. In fact, we gave him the honor of helping her to her new home. She didn’t eat him either. But she could have.

Here she calmly waits for a few more pictures, by her new (and/or former) pond.

And there she went. I guess now she’ll be a small frog in a big pond, instead of the head honcho of a small pond, but somehow I think she’ll be happier. Our fish and birds will be happier, too.

While working in the veggie garden, trying to figure out how best to pair up my veggies with good companion plants, I noticed two other little companions not too far away. And of course, I just had to snap a picture to share with my blogging companions.

I also noticed that it’s apparently time to add a little more water to the pond! Ok, weather, clearly it’s time you sent us some rain.  

My son was cleaning leaves out of the front pond and soon came rushing in to tell me that we had both a huge toad and a huge frog at the pond. Naturally, I rushed back out with him with my camera in hand.

Sure enough, the female toad was huge — round even. I just had to get a close-up of her beautiful warty skin.

But when I saw the frog, I was really amazed at its size. To date, when we’ve had frogs, they’ve all been cute little things. This was a by gosh big’n. I supposed it’s not big by frog standards, but it’s big by my home wildscape standards. Is a good ol’ fashioned American Bull Frog?

 
Afraid of scaring it off while I took pictures, I whispered gentle, soothing sounds toward its tympanic membrane, or tympanum. Ah, biology classes. You served me well. I’ve remembered those terms since high school. The tympanum — the circular spot near each froggy eye — is how the frog hears. Sound waves hit the membrane and cause it to vibrate, and the information is conducted to the frog’s internal hearing structures. Humans have them, too — we call them eardrums. Ms. Toad above has them, too. Scroll up and see.

Anyhoo, I’d like to dedicate this post to my late Granddaddy, who moved all the way from England to the U.S. and met my grandmother, both of whom later had my dad, who ultimately with my mom had my sisters and me. Granddaddy often told us this poem–one of many, actually — but this was a personal favorite.

What a funny thing a frog are
‘E ain’t got no tail almost hardly
And when he sit he jump
And when he jump, he sit
On ‘is lit’l tail that he ain’t got almost hardly. 

I think our froggy would have liked it. I should have whispered that to its tympanum, too, before it hopped away.