Nature's Place

Sitting in the flowers under an open sky during the day, surrounded by trees with birds coming and going all day long. Brave frog.

During the night, a daytime frog is a very rare thing here. They climb around the place, usually after sitting still for long periods.

Each individual a unique character, discernible in the the way s/he presents. Posture, colouring, attitude, the complete and distinctive form.

Orange crucifix orchid beetle, loves to eat enough of the flowers to get her young going. Then leaves them to finish off, as far as I can tell.

The second such encounter with mating huntsman spiders – see a recent post, in the dead of night on the crucifix orchid. Same orientation, she’s above and he’s below ready to drop out of harms way, depositing his contribution to the species.

Surrounded in orange, or yellow, and loving it. It’s common to see insects with a piece missing, in this case a clawed foot. Tough world out there.

A searching posture, ready to jump perhaps. Who knows what they see, maybe the same as you and me – food and things. Except we have different diets I’m sure.

MC for the frog’s ball. Conducting the ceremonies with a zen like ease. Maybe … Or just sitting there, being a frog. Content in the absence of mental ‘issues’. No hangups from the past, or worries about the future. This is a here and now frog.

And the singer gets her chance to shine, or is it he … Soon after my seven frogs started to sing they all but disappeared. But they’ll be back …

Frog food? Maybe. But for now, and most of the time I see them, they are thoroughly enjoying the mold and fungus on the old lemon staked in the garden to attract the tiny weevils. Life is good …

One of the recent appearances, a harmless red wasp sleeping on the broad nasturtium leaves at night. One of the first of the many characters that have begun to make up the burgeoning population of the garden.

Red nasturtium flower for background to this zen frog. They do meditate in their way, instinctively.

Living on the edge, of a leaf of the crucifix orchid. These dwarf eastern tree frogs all look alike to the (my) naked eye.

They all have similarities but they are also unique individuals when seen up close. A bit like people that way, without the unhappiness.

Because there’s no unhappiness in my little bit of nature. I work at it, keeping what doesn’t contribute to well-being out. … This mantis makes its own contribution. … And you’re right, it’s not a frog. :-)

Mmmm, what’s that down there? Something to eat perhaps? Or is it just my hand reflecting light back up that caught frogs eye. Hmmm …

Steady as she goes. Do frogs slip on shiny leaves in the rain? I don’t think so, I’ve seen them jump 9 inches or so in the wet and dark and land nicely and hold on quite easily.

Focused and intelligent creatures, naturally. This one in between the leaves, sheltered in a way. They are never cowering but do hunker down when disturbed, for better traction if it comes to jumping.

The eastern dwarf tree frog, resident in amongst the growth of the crucifix orchid. They come out most nights, unless it’s too cold – around 7C.

It’s a job sometimes, getting a clean background with so much foliage about. But they are getting used to me manipulating their platform/s for the shot.

Plenty of snails about too, and I encourage them with plenty of rotting leaf litter kept moist. They are often seen climbing about the orchid too, where frogs wait.

They have their ways, and their character. Calm and silent, alert and reserved. Lovely gentle creatures, to me. Even entertaining, one could say. Could, do … :-)

Holding on in the rain. I’ve built a frog hotel for them now too. Will picture it another time, too late here. Don’t know yet if they are using it, but they will, or something like it.

And from another time, sighted on the plant pot under the greenery. He or she, who knows or cares, except another huntsman. Magnificent creatures either way.

Once more about the crucifix orchid. Seen often enough to suspect a huntsman spider home being made hereabouts. And unusually bold, unfazed by a near miss of the diffuser.

And then, after all the recent spider activity – see previous frog posts – we can see who is the male and female. She came along and presented herself, hanging upside down. He approached gingerly from beneath, loosely enwrapped her and gently delivered his seed to her opening with his pedipalps. https://animals.howstuffworks.com/arachnids/spider8.htm

Hmmm, what’s this I see. Rather deadly to me. Better keep still a while or I might no longer be.

A huntsman spider, probably female, hanging motionless – swaying, apparently lifeless – above something dark beneath.

Ooh, that looks dangerous. I’ll just tuck in here a while. Hope my mates have the good sense to stay out of this one’s way.

Something tethered beneath, a last breath, a final struggle against the bonds of inevitability.

I see said the frog, who could probably see very well indeed. Well enough to know not to go that way, this time.

Yes, cockroach, caught out by her need to constantly move. Which at other times would serve her well, but the huntsman hunts by that very need – of others to move, across her carefully laid trip threads. She feels them …

The frog hunts differently, by sitting still enough to see in the dark with their big eyes anything that moves. Each hunter has its ways. The frog’s way is probably less dramatic but equally poised.

The ‘coup de grace’. Until this the spider was hanging there apparently lifeless, swaying in the breeze, maybe exhausted from the cold with little to eat, gathering her energy to extract the life from her prey.

And nobody noticed this snail, going about its grazing in the dead of night. No hunter this one.

Master of all he surveys, below.

Food foraging … As above, so …

Meetings along the byways on the orange crucifix orchid.

The observed observing … alert to sound and movement.

A place for everyone on these mighty orchids.

They do a lot of sitting and waiting, these frogs.

These beetles do a lot of eating, on the pink crucifix orchid.

At the ready, ready to jump for dinner.

Dinner … who knows. She lost a claw, and gained a headdress.

Careful now, examine, sense, taste, before diving in and calling out the house guard to join in.

Let the feast begin, with giants leaving space at the table for their tiny neighbour to take its place.

And once determined to be true let’s play ball, why not … what’s good for me is good for you.

One might even pray, for deliverance of such a bounty. Higher than can be seen, on any other day.

Kick, catch … Nah, this is mine and mine alone. Until I meet my kin and s/he can have the bone.

To be enjoyed, even delighted in, by the sumptuous appearance of the honeyed play of gods.

What else to call it, that this creature will only know once in its life. But play and pray … delightful day.

Content to pose a short while as I positioned myself for a few shots. Remarkably passive to my handling of it.

Flexible frog, all the better to get around while evading the predators – birds and snakes and lizards. Same colours as the leaves and stems too.

In the palm of my hand. Where we have nature in fact, and not doing so well with it – with our biblical dominion, surely means responsibility.

Hello little one. On my arm. … No sense of alarm or urgency, just frog being frog. Not calling out though, still absorbing the sense of the newness.

On an orange I have staked in the garden, for other creatures to call home. Fungus weevils live their lives here as it decays.

By the tree s/he calls home, taking position to jump into the big black darkness. About two feet through the air and it was home again. Home again …