Hunters in the Garden

Quietly I creep toward the water hoping that the frog will stay put. Knowing that I won't arrive unnoticed, I only want to keep surprise at a minimum, raising my chances of being allowed to watch the frog.

He sees me but does not leave.  So far I am not a threat.  The frog is perched upon a broken stick sunk into the muck of a water planter.  Its front legs and belly rest on a white rock used to weigh down the planter into a large pot used to hold a water plant and provide a temporary home to tadpoles.

The frog blends in well, its mottled leg almost indistinguishable from the dead reeds around it.  Its soft white belly seems part of the rock upon which it rests.

Another small life in my garden this week is this young praying mantis patiently awaiting the arrival of pray onto the hydranga leaves upon which it is perched.  Praying mantis have been infrequently known to catch a humming bird, but this one is still young and has some growing to do before attempting such a feat.  It is hard to even imagine a full size mantis feasting on a hummingbird.  That would be like me roasting a cow as I sat by with a single knife and fork or drinking a milkshake the size of my bathtub.

I walk out of the garden, shutting the gate behind me, leaving the hunters to their tasks.