It's begun to turn into spring here. Yesterday, coming home from work, I pulled off into a swamp area, and neverminding about my khakis and my good shoes, I trekked off with a bucket.
I was on the hunt for frog eggs. One of our sites was doing a spring theme of frogs. I suggested that we should bring in frog eggs. It is fascinating to watch them develop, hatch, and watch the tadpoles (or pollywogs, whatever you call them) turn into frogs.
Staff stopped to gape at me. Did I know where to find them? I smiled. I pass by the sprawling Akeley swamp on my way home. That place is full of frogs, and it would be a simple matter to find them. They looked doubtful, and I was surprised at how many adults had never watched such a simple thing as that, or even had an idea what frog eggs looked like.
It's been a while since I've spent time in a swamp, and it was nice to walk along the trail listening the the frog songs. I knew that where there are frogs, there must be frog eggs, so I followed my ears. I noticed that one side of the trail was higher than the other and had a slow water current as the water went from higher to lower. Frogs lay their eggs where there is no current, and so I switched to the other side where the water was lower and stagnant, and almost immediately found what I was looking for.
Crouched there intent on what I was doing, listening to the diverse life sounds of a healthy swamp, I suddenly found myself missing, really missing, my solitary days spent tramping around swamps trapping mosquitoes. I truly did love that job.
I collected my bucket and headed back out.
Everything happens for a reason, I think, and I am glad that I have the knowledge to bring such a simple gift to the people I work with now. I love this job too.