Food for Thought

I recently encountered Wood Frog tadpoles. Last year I thought I had seen them: a clump of loose greenish eggs around a stick in mid-April. But that clump was solitary, it would have fit (dripping) between two hands. This year, an early spring, I saw Wood Frog eggs twice in mid-March. They were so green with algae (to help the eggs absorb oxygen) that they looked like an actual film of algae over the pond surface. They were also in clustered groups, covering easily 10 square feet of the surface of each pond- all together and nowhere else in that body of water. Oddly, shallow areas were chosen both times, and some of the tadpoles were already dead on the surface of their still moist but no longer underwater eggs. Why did the frogs choose a shallow part of the pond instead of a deeper one? A question for another day.

I could not resist scooping up some tadpoles for a better look, and of course I encountered many a mysterious invertebrate larva. How I would love to see what they all turn into. Some were almost certainly going to be mosquitos, so that love might be tempered. But it only occurred to me yesterday when I was writing about insects that I do not think that mosquitos were flying around laying their eggs in February. I do not think the aquatic larvae were hatching and finding lots of yummy food and temperatures conducive to growth in early March. So. All those lovelies must have been overwintering in their larval state! That means, if I am guessing correctly, that every single mosquito in Maryland right now is a little larva in a pond, waiting to mature and suck some mammal blood and lay some more larval eggs to grow up and bite all the summer campers in July to then lay some more eggs to turn into larvae in the fall and hang out over the winter all over again. Am I right? I don’t know, but I never tire of thinking about overwintering. In the insect world, I have said it before and I’ll say it again, with the exception of our glorious migratory Monarchs, every single insect you have ever met is also here in the winter, unseen and unmoving, suspended in one life stage or another. Walk around outside in a blizzard and think of that one day: they are all here, beneath snow and ice and mud and bark, waiting, like us, for spring to come again. Try not to gloat, but you are pretty lucky to be enjoying that long awaited season right now.

 

 

 

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