As you read this I’m cleaning out the muck in the pond. (That’s if you’re reading it in the morning US Eastern Time.) It’s a job I both dread and look forward to. It means the start of pond season for sure.
The planning is nerve-racking. I want to do it before everything starts mating and laying eggs but after the water warms just a little. I thought this would be a good year because it was mild. Then April wasn’t. Then it rained. Even I am not crazy enough to go in the pond in the rain.
Water temperature is running around 60 degrees. That’s cold but if the sun is shining and I have my chest waders on, it’s not bad.
There is prep work. The filter has to be put together with new inserts and the hoses and buckets need to be found (they are like screwdrivers – they have feet and walk away from where you are sure you stored them).
I was gearing up. Today is the first really nice day in a long string of lousy days.
Then I heard it. The toads were singing. Not just any song either. They were singing the mating song. You know the one. It’s starts “Hi gorgeous, you alone? How about a drink?”
Ack! There they were. Two toads looking a lot like a pile of leaves doing it on the stone wall in my pond. For hours! I don’t want to disturb them (in the act) and I don’t want to disturb the eggs.
Before I wade in, I will check around for toad eggs and mating critters. Perhaps it’s time to get out the Barry White music and a bottle of wine. My pond is such a love machine!