The pond, complete with bog bean…

Dear Readers, since 7 a.m. this morning (and yes, it is Saturday as I write) I have been hunched like a vulture over my second Biology of Survival assignment for my Open University degree. What a palaver! I am nearly there, but I am very frustrated that my cyber-rats aren’t doing what I expected them to do. And you can tell me all you like that a failed experiment provides just as much interesting data as one that comes up with the answers that you’re expecting, but it just isn’t as satisfying as when everything falls into place. I suspect that the problem is my sample size – we only have five ‘rats’, and one of mine is the smallest rat I’ve ever seen, even in cyberspace – he or she is barely mouse-sized and I suspect that that is skewing my results. Oh well. At least I’ve nearly caught up now, after not being well before Christmas.

And in other news, I heard the first tentative croaking of a frog in the pond this afternoon, so I stood there in the rain hoping I could see him and capture his portrait. Alas, he was too shy, not a problem that he and the rest of his little friends will have in a few days time when the ladeez turn up and the testosterone gets working. But for now, it was just the demurest of sounds, almost as if Mr Frog was clearing his throat, or trying out his voice after a long winter spent in the mud. I wish him luck, especially as I’ve noticed several cats gazing intently into the water over the past few days. Cats do love to play ‘whackamole’ with the frogs, though they seldom eat them (presumably they’ve learned that frog skin has a rather nasty toxin in it). Let’s see how things shape up over next week – I actually have a couple of days off, so I can keep an eye open.

Oh, and there seems to be a fly hatching from the water. Let’s hope the frog doesn’t spot it.