Within two days, I had two similar subjects to work with, with rather disparate cooperativeness, but it gave me the chance to catch up a little on the image count for the month.
The rains came in this past week, too many cloudbursts to count, but it made the amphibians happy, and we all know how important that is. One decided to come in the front door as soon as I opened it, though it likely regretted this immediately after, because I collected it and took it into Walkabout Studios’ Amphibian Branch, otherwise known as my bathroom.
The reason I do this is because such subjects typically leap away every chance they get, and the bathroom gives them a lot fewer places to hide themselves while also being easier to pursue and recapture. And it was necessary for this one, since it leapt away at least eight times.
The setting here, by the way, is a simple weed plucked and held in an alligator clamp, in front of one of my prints as ‘appropriate’ background color – you can see that it’s not as natural green as it should be, and I need to try another print. But this was the bare ten seconds that the frog was in place before it abandoned its perch.
Here it is after the first or second recapture, having immediately disregarded my setting and pausing on the sink, still sporting the debris it picked up during its tour of the bathroom corners – since I had the camera in hand, I went ahead and got the single frame, but it’s also the best scale shot with the sponge in the background. Far less natural-looking than the print, of course.
Another momentary success, probably after recapture three or four, in a small tray I use for such ground-dwelling subjects. Bear in mind that I still hadn’t identified the species, attempting to get something that would indicate this. It’s a juvenile, so adult markings aren’t developed yet, and at this age it might be anything.
Once again back in my portrait setting, this is where any identifying markings would show, and are not. Or are they?
Cricket frogs, both the northern and southern variants, have varied markings but most frequently a triangle on the back of their head, and this inset shows that there is the faint vestige of one able to be made out. We’re in the range where the two variants overlap, but the calls are distinctly different, and they were sounding off right at the pond out back as I obtained these shots, the only calls I’ve ever heard from the cricket frogs. Verdict: northern cricket frog (Acris crepitans.)
Once I had enough frames, I returned my hyperactive model to the sodden environs whence it came, perhaps convinced not to venture too close to doors anymore.
The next subject was also a door dasher, though in the daytime and much more complacent for the images.
On the outside of the back storm door, the one featured so distinctly in the previous post, we have this little spud in a dynamic pose on the reflective film. Also a juvenile, we need something for scale, and The Girlfriend obliged.
That’s her fingertip, on the opposite side of the glass – we’re talking smol here.
I also got my own fingertips into the frame, on this side of the glass this time, as the frog stated getting wary of all this attention. However, unlike the cricket frog, it never leapt away at all. In fact, the crappier end-of-month abstract earlier today was taken from the other side of the glass, with the flash barely making it through the solar film to illuminate the frog.
Boring dorsal view, but again, identifying markings, and the ‘X’ across the back is clear enough even when it got partially obscured by the bright reflection from the wet body. That identifies this as a spring peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) – quite common around here, and quite vocal in these conditions. I have plenty of frames of them, but not with their own reflections so fartistically as some of these, so there we go.
I have still more (of other subjects) that could be put up, but they’ll likely wait a day or two. Back in the swing of things, though.