Wood frog on ice

It was raining off and on, but that, of course, didn't bother the frogs... or the naturalist, so, as soon as I had all the nighttime tasks completed, I put on my chest-high waders—evening wear, these days—and headed out to the wetlands. The Wood Frogs and Spring Peepers were in fine voice, but I found one WF on the last of the icebergs, and it seemed quite silent, perhaps stilled by his frigid resting place. These black-masked amphibians are, after all, cold-blooded, so that extra bit of frigidity may have chilled his ardor. I know the feeling.

Wood frog eggs

But while he might have been temporarily off his game plan, the rest of the WF clan had already gotten into high gear and accomplished what they'd come to the vernal pools to do: court, mate, and leave an increasingly vast cloud of eggs in the communal cloud. These egg masses were relatively fresh: deposited within the past couple of days, the embryos inside barely starting to develop. But give the eggs a week and warmer temperatures and sunlight and the frogs-to-be will have elongated into proper tadpoles that are ready to emerge from the protective jelly and start trying to make their algae-eating way in aquatic world.