Frogs and Famous Last Words
By Ellen Nieslanik, January 9, 2022
“Can we keep him; puu-leeeeeeaaaazze?”
There stood four year old Sam, soaked from the waist down in muddy water, and dripping on my freshly mopped floor. Hands cupped together, he raised them to his cheek, turned and gave me a full frontal view of his latest capture—a speckled olive green frog. Eyes squinted, nose wrinkled, he tilted his head back and smiled up at me. (There was no denying that his pathetically cute powers of persuasion had pretty good success stats, particularly with his grandparents.). Sam held this pleading pose and awaited my verdict. Every few seconds he fluttered his eyes slightly open for a pulse check then closed them tightly again as I deliberated his case.
I should note that when Joe and I started a family we made some conscious lifestyle changes and returned to ranching so the kids could experience this very sort of thing. We nurtured and encouraged their interaction and curiosity with nature, yet experience told me that keeping this frog wasn't a good idea. In everyone’s best interest this little fella was destined for the “Nieslanik catch and release program.”
It was a hard sell, but he finally conceded once I played the “best interest of the frog” card. We didn’t have the right environment for a wild frog to survive, and after-all wasn’t that what Sam wanted?. Where would he swim, what would he eat, and wouldn’t he be lonely for other frogs?
Ohhhh he was disappointed. Shoulders slumped, eyes cast downward we walked to the creek together, and he slowly and bravely released the frog at the waters edge. I knew that redemption was my only hope with Sam. By the time we reached the yard gate, I’d made the suggestion mail order tadpoles might be a fun project to check out. Kids have an amazing capacity for rebounding and in a few moments Sam had moved from despair to ecstasy at the option I’d posed. Actually “option” was poor choice of words because once the suggestion had parted my lips there was NO turning back.
We ordered the “Grow a Frog” project and in a week three live tadpoles arrived the mail. Sam was overjoyed as we carefully unpacked the box, and set up the small aquarium. That night, instead of a bed-time story, oSam wanted me to read him the frog instructions. He was obsessed and spent hours in front of the aquarium,watching and waiting for the tadpoles to grow their legs. The water in their 5”x 5” plastic aquarium became murkier by the day. I was pretty sure that Sam fed them every time I left the room, but he denied all culpability, and couldn't explain why the frog’s food was half-empty already. Despite this, all three tadpoles soon sprouted front legs and we marveled at our three little frog mermaids as they swam around their murky green tank.
We were feeling quite proud of our reptile husbandry skills and so pleased with the success of the project until one morning shortly after “front legs” we found one of the three tadpoles floating dead in the tank. Sam was troubled, and I got right on the phone to the frog hotline for advice. They explained that the problem was likely over feeding and we needed to act quickly to change the water so the remaining two tads could survive.
“Just slowly tip the cube and drain half the dirty water through the hole in the lid, then refill with clean water through the same hole,” she instructed.
I expressed my concerns that the tadpoles might slip out through the drain hole during this process. She assured me that once they had their front legs there was “no way possible” this could happen. (Famous last words.) She referred me to the diagrams showing this procedure in the instruction book which I read a re-read several times.
Sam pushed a chair up to the sink, we got the replacement water just the right temperature, secured the safety lid, and slowly slowly tipped the tank to drain off 1/2 the water. “Swoosh!” There went both frogs out through the tank’s hole and into the sink, and then down into the disposal. (Tactical error! I didn’t plug the sink, Crap!!) We froze for a second then turned and looked at each other in horror before Sam started screaming. I mean REALLY screaming. His words we’re indecipherable, but I got the idea.
“Stay calm,” I kept telling myself.
I could feel both frogs. They were about an inch long and as big around as a Number 2 pencil, but slimy and slippery. One had its head down the drainhole of the disposal wall while the other wriggled in the bottom basin. There was no getting a hold of them, but I thought if I could float them out we might have a chance. I turned on the water and ran to the bathroom for the plunger. Water started backing up in the other sink which I plunged and plunged. My resuscitation attempts went on for 15 minutes, to no avail so I reached into the disposal to asses the situation. Meanwhile Sam had gone completely hysterical and I feared this wouldn’t end well. Long story short, we lost both frogs. Exhausted and weary from the situation I called the frog hotline with a weary four year old on my lap to report our situation.
Replacement tadpoles arrived in the mail 4 days later which seemed to be the antidote that Sam needed. As for me, it took quite a while for me to get the nerve to use my disposal, and I admittedly flinchedat the sound of the grind. Sam raised two healthy happy water frogs that we had for years. He seemed content with the notion that his first two frogs were in the septic system though we never discussed what he thought they were actually doing down there. I avoided the topic entirely as I couldn’t contribute to the lie and felt somewhat remiss in allowing them to slip into the disposal in the first place.
The water frogs were the first of many reptile/animal projects for Sam. I’ve got to wonder if this experience paved a way forward for Sam as he now works as an engineer in wastewater management?
