Yesterday was full of errands. There was grocery shopping and doggie obedience school and a welcome rain that all conspired to prevent any photography.
What would I post tomorrow? Sure, I had beaucoup barred owl shots in reserve ... but unless I catch one in the act of eating something or doing the tango, I'm not posting another owl on a limb shot.
Around midnight, I stepped outside with Bear and Gumbo for one last "do your business" walk before bedtime. My mind was not on doggy urination for a change, but preoccupied with what to post this morning.
The pups and I walked out into the humid toadsong saturated air and paused near the water folly. The pond seemed noisier than usual ...
Lord, don't let it be a squirrel or deermouse in that pond, I can't post another rescue post either.
The spanish moss filtered moonlight was not enough to see what was causing the pond commotion, but it was obvious from the silvery ripples that something was goin on in the pond.
I zipped back inside for a flashlight and the Sony.
The flashlight's rude glare revealed the truth.
There was a toadapalooza going on in the goldfish pond.
As the only standing water in the surrounding area, it was in high demand by some urgent anurans.
If you recall earlier posts about the water folly, it's surrounded by a mountain of carefully arranged limestone. Last night, every other poolside rock had a singing toad.
It was extremely loud and constant.
Above, just a portion of the many toads partying in the pond last night.
I suppose I shouldn't stress too much when the current photo file pile gets low. It seems PFHQ is always willing to toss me a bone.
Speaking of that ...
I'm not bragging or anything, but Bear was simply the star of the obedience class last night. He's so smart and eager to learn ... can't you see that in his eyes?
Everything Bear and I learn at class is being taught to Gumbo at home to save some cash ($109 for 8 classes), and besides, I could hardly handle two goofy pups at a time.
We are clicker training and working on eye contact with the master and "Leave It", a command for preventing him from picking up things he's not supposed to ... like old,dead, dried up raccoon legs.
Oh, you never saw that photo?
I'll dig it up.
The point is, he did wonderful in class, and that little wet accident he had by the guppy aquariums was my fault for not running him outside immediately after an hour long class.
I'm pretty sure he's the teacher's pet.