Tadpole experiment 2

It is hard to tell what makes a toad tadpole happy. They don’t purr or smile, and tail wagging is strictly for locomotion. What makes them unhappy is clear. They don’t like deep water or currents. In the last update, I had two toad tadpoles still in the mason jar. One of them was dead one morning for no apparent reason. I fished it out. The other was doing well. I saw the tips of legs sticking out of its body last Tuesday, May 16. I had a thought before I went to bed to put the water in a shallow bowl, knowing that toads do not swim as well as frogs. In the end, I counted on it to stay a tadpole for 8 more hours.

In the morning, a perfectly formed toad, about a half inch long, was lying dead on top of the dead leaves in the bottom of the jar. I was sad, not only because it was so cute, but also because if it had lived, I could have released it and been done with my experiment.

But there were a million tadpoles still in the fluddle. 

Still a million tadpoles in the fluddle

I felt the challenge to successfully raise a toad. I went out with my jar and got three new tadpoles. I tried to get some that looked large and had leg nubs. I put them in a large glass bowl along with the grass leaves from the bottom and filamentous algae (I’m guessing spirogyra, but I don’t have a microscope at home. Yet.). I got a rock from the collection that Jane bequeathed to me. I found a nice sized geode that was polished on one side. The water wouldn’t hurt it, and it sat flat on the bottom. Fab and fancy fish bowl decoration.

I thought long and hard about the aeration. Clearly, the tadpoles couldn’t swim well in the current that the airstone kicked up. I took the airstone off and attached the hose to the side of the bowl with a small clothes pin.

The bowl with air hose and clothespin on Wednesday, May 17

The tadpoles didn’t seem happy, but as I said, it’s hard to tell. At the risk of being anthropomorphic, they seemed to cower under the muck with the bubbler on. I turned it off, and they began doing laps around the top, nibbling at the spirogyra and muck on the leaves. I called them happy. They might have been gasping for air. Who’s to know? They didn’t die, anyway, so there’s that. They are also in no hurry to become adults.

Toad tadpoles as they have appeared for the last week

Here’s an interesting observation: the mat of spirogyra does not seem to float on the water because it is naturally buoyant. It seems to float because it traps oxygen bubbles from photosynthesis. The algae starts out under the water when I bring it in from the fluddle. It rises during the day.

Bubbles of oxygen causing the filamentous algae to float

The last time I changed the water, I picked up two more chorus frog tadpoles by mistake. I was able to more closely observe the development of the front legs due to the shallower water. Bumps became increasingly pronounced.

May 20

May 21 in the morning

At this point, I could see the frog moving its arms beneath the skin.

May 20 in the afternoon--I could see the forelimbs moving under the skin

Yesterday morning, the arms were out. Note that the tail is still at least twice as long as the body.

Morning, May 22--very long tail

And then it hid. And I worried, because when the toad tadpoles died, they didn’t float. I figured, though, at some point if it were still alive, it would have to come up for air when it was fully changed. Perhaps this brief adolescence is hazardous in the wild, and the instinct to stay out of sight is strong.

Here it is this morning. Note how short the tail is. I included some of the cheese cloth and a blade of grass for scale. So cute. I released him shortly afterward.

Today, clinging to the glass above the water with a nubby little tail.

After releasing the frog and getting fresh water for the toad tadpoles, I got to work weeding the perennial bed north of the garage. I took out two bushels of dandelions. Huge, multicrowned, Medusa-head dandelions. The growth form is because I have pulled them before, but I can never get the whole root, which grows to China. Once upon a time, I thought that if I just got the shoot apical meristem at the top of the root, all would be well. Not so. Dandelions have an amazing capacity to regenerate from roots, usually coming back with more, larger crowns. As I labored, I could hear the dandelions saying, “I’ll be back. BWAHAHAHA.”

My plan is always to plant aggressive perennials that will eventually crowd out the dandelions. It is working well with the geraniums and ginger (not shown).

Wild geraniums

I was delighted to see that I still had some trillium. I collected this from Camp Pokonokah Hills before it was sold. The ones I planted down by the fifth oak are puny and not blooming this year, so to have these specimens doing well was a great relief.

White trillium

The pink shooting stars are blooming as well.

Shooting stars

When I was done with that, I went down to the fifth oak to weed that for the second time. Last time, there were a number of tiny cotyledons sprouted. Ever hopeful that it was the seeds of the plants that I planted there, I left them. They turned out to be lambs quarters. Sigh. I pulled them today. 

Mystery cotyledons turn out to be lambs quarters

In the process I found more little cotyledons that I left because I thought they might be penstemon. Time will tell.