Fixation with frogs?

What makes a person fixate on a particular subject? It seems I go in spurts, lately it has been the beach, rocks, shoes, and frogs!
Frogs..... Maybe it's because the frogs have been startling me as I walk by the ponds, and obviously I startle them, as they quickly dive into the water. I freeze, spotting another, resting on an old lily pad, with it's large eyes glistening in the sun. I raise the camera and focus, and plop, it's gone! I'm patient, and as still as a statue, I wait, and sure enough, I see the eyes pop through the surface of the pond and I snap the photo.
Today, my Grand Daughter Anna, asked if I would walk down to the pond at the bottom of the hill, in her back yard, with her and her friend. They wanted to see if they could capture a frog or tadpole with the small nets with long red handles they were toting.



I said sure, and grabbed my camera, put on my green Muck boots and off we went. The pond is quite deep and I was a little nervous about the girls getting too close to the edge and mentioned: "That if they fell in, they were on their own, due to the fact, I would be too busy, snapping pictures of the whole event". They became quite cautious!



While the girls were screaming about the small fish that were darting back and forth, there on the brown floating reeds from last year, was a nice big green frog, just sitting there begging me to take his portrait.

I was afraid to take my eyes off the girls and took a couple of quick shots of the accommodating frog. The girls spied the frog and reached with their nets, splashing them down, at least six feet from where the little guy was sunning himself. PLOP, and he was gone. I could see tad poles swimming to the surface, gobbling the bugs that were sitting on the water, then quickly diving back down to the bottom. The girls caught two tadpoles and had them in a bucket. My four year old grandson came running down the hill, and I knew there would be issues, James has no fear and would want to get right up to the edge of the pond. I tried to convince the girls it was time to head back up to the house. While walking through the knee high grass, little James, flushed a Mallard hen, obviously sitting on a nest. James froze, and I explained there must be a nest and that we had to be extremely careful not to step on it. Just one foot in front of James was the nest, snuggled in the deep grass, hidden from the crows and nest robbers.



We counted eleven eggs. I took a few snap shots so James could show his Mom and Dad. We made our way up the hill, hoping we hadn't scared the mother duck too badly. The wild strawberry blossoms were everywhere as well as the small white bell shaped flowers of the wild Maine blueberry. What a great place for children. My daughter Heather and her friend Susan, tell stories of me "forcing" them to pick the wild strawberries for hours on end when they were young. In reality, it was only a request, to keep them occupied and it was only two cups, to make a batch of wild strawberry jam, that they couldn't wait to try. Funny, how life comes around. Here I am, enjoying the same things with my grandchildren, that I used to do with my children and loving every moment.



As we came to the top of the hill and up the garden steps, I looked down into the small frog pond in the garden, and there on the edge was a small brown toad, just waiting for his picture to be taken.