Double life

& how to get your frogs out of trouble

The word amphibian comes from the Greek amphibios, meaning “to live a double life.” Frogs, toads, newts, and salamanders all do this, starting in water as eggs, then hatching into larvae that breathe through gills. Frogs and toads are called tadpoles, or polliwogs. They develop lungs and move onto land, but return to water (or near water) to breed and lay eggs.

We recently hatched tadpoles from eggs we found in a puddle that was about to dry up. We raised them in jars of clean well water, and fed them boiled lettuce, bits of egg, and algae. We carefully transferred them to another jar when the water got cloudy, and brought them in at night when the temperature approached freezing. We protected them from Coco and Orange Julius (our cats), who enjoy drinking non-standard water. Bea took four of the tadpoles to school on Tuesday so her friends could see them, and brought them home again on the bus. Just in the seven or so hours she spent at school, they’d grown! We set them on the kitchen table and marveled at their tiny legs, the way they’d float facing the side of the glass, then kick and make their way to the surface.

Even though we tried to take good care of them, we found two pale, lifeless bodies in the bottom of the school jar Wednesday morning. I did a quick Google search—“why are my froglets dying?”—and realized that they probably drowned.

Though they still had tails and seemed at home in the water, they actually must have had lungs. I read that once their front legs pop out, they need to be in a tank where they can keep their skin wet, but also climb out to breathe and rest. We made some adjustments (see below).

Our remaining froglets seem to be fine hanging out in the tangle of damp moss Bea and Harriet arranged, but I miss seeing them darting around in the jar. They’ve lost a little verve, as froglets clinging to the jar. They’ll get it back, I’m sure, when we release them at the stream today.

I’ve been thinking about how most of us, as adults, live a kind of double life. There’s part of us that sensibly faces facts, breathes the air, eats the mosquitos. But probably another part of us wishes we could still swim around freely in a little tadpole sanctuary. That’s sort of how I feel, sometimes, when I think about our terrible climate catastrophe.

Sarah commented, on Friday’s post, “As a parent, I don't want to hide truths from my kids, but I also don't want them to be anxious or fearful.” I agree. But what about the part of me that doesn’t speak “as a parent” but just as a person who is scared (and also angry)? Is there any benefit to showing this side to our kids? (Is it even possible to avoid?)

I wonder of this is what was going on with my dad, when he said “all of this will be gone.” If it was his own grief speaking. After all, he and my mom had bought some land nearby—they were hoping to build a house on the pond across from the log cabin they were renting. It must have pained him to think about all of the development—and the way that many people in our county developed, cutting down every tree. Maybe he wondered where we would go.

The other day Bea and I were on our “big walk”—through the woods, past the mule pasture, down two more roads, then back down our road. A lot of the land on the far side of the power lines, about a half-mile from our house, has been logged. It looks like violence—like the people who did it actively hated trees. Bea will often comment on how awful it is to cut down trees, but on this day she was looking at the puddles left behind in rutted tire tracks.

“No tadpoles in there,” she said dismissively. “Too polluted.”

The water was iridescent with oil. What used to be woods was now a wreckage of stumps, mud, and brush. It will take many years to grow back, if it’s allowed to grow back at all. In my double life, I feel despair at times, I lose my verve, but time with my kids tends to bring me back. It helps to focus on the smallest things, like hatching tadpoles and returning them to their habitat.

Later I asked Bea if she understood why amphibians were named for their double life (she did). We talked about watching the froglets—which now have small, nubby tails and plump frog bodies—develop from eggs. Then I asked her if she ever felt like she lived a double life, or felt torn between two worlds.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” she said. “Because I’m a witch. And that means I live between the world of magic and the real world. It gets confusing sometimes.”

More on the world of magic in next Sunday’s essay. Tuesday we’ll have a lesson, with links on Friday. In the meantime, see below for Bea’s description of how to safely rescue and raise tadpoles:

How to get frog eggs or tadpoles out of trouble

By Beatrice Allen

Have you ever found tadpoles or frog eggs in a puddle that was just about to dry up? That happened to us! Here is what to do:

First quickly gather supplies, like a jar and a net, and GO TO THE PUDDLE.

Then try to get as many egg sacs as you can. Be careful not to squish them. Scoop them into a jar with clear, clean water*. Take some of their puddle water with them.

When you get home, fill a pan or jar with water that is room temperature and carefully pour the tadpoles in. Don’t put a lid on your jar!

Watch closely to see when they hatch. Then give them a little boiled egg yolk to eat. Also give them lettuce, and collect algae if you can. Give the algae to the tadpoles. If it’s above freezing, leave them outside in the sun. Make sure they get enough shade so the water doesn’t get too hot, and watch them every day. If they get legs, that is great! If it’s cold but not freezing, they might slow down, but don’t worry, they’re not dead.

Once they get front legs, it’s time to put them in a tank or jar with shallow water they can crawl out of. We used two big jars, and added rocks and moss. We had to put screen on top so they can’t climb out.

Once they are little frogs with small or no tails, you should let them go so they can eat bugs and do frog stuff! Be sure to let them go near calm water, like a stream or a pond.

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*IMPORTANT: We have well water, so it’s not treated with chemicals. Treated city water or town water isn’t good for tadpoles. Give them bottled water, or scoop some water from an unpolluted pond or stream.

Also, if you’re worried about your outdoor jar attracting mosquitoes or your froglets getting out, cut a piece of screen and put that over the top with a lid ring. Just remember that at some point, they’re gonna need to eat bugs.

Hey—don’t frog and toad tadpoles look the same? How can I tell the difference?

Actually, they look different! Toads lay their eggs in long strings, like a necklace, and toad tadpoles are black and sleek. Frogs lay eggs in clusters, and frog tadpoles are mottled and golden.

Fun fact: most tadpoles take 12-14 weeks to become froglets or toadlets, but we found ours as eggs (photo above) on March 7. That was only seven weeks ago, and most of our tadpoles have lost their tails and are breathing air now.

Question for commenters: Have you raised or protected a wild animal, and then let it go? Tell us about it! Bea will be reading and responding to the comments.

(clearly Bea did not need to put her name on this worksheet)