The Tadpole Experiment Gone Wrong

Living out in the country meant simple joys and muddy adventures, especially after a big Texas thunderstorm. My sisters, brother, and I never dreaded the rain, we welcomed it. While other kids might have been stuck inside, we were counting down the hours until the ditches filled up with water, knowing exactly what that meant: tadpole season.

For two straight days, the sky poured, the wind howled, and our old, broken-down trailer rattled with every clap of thunder. Momma was working multiple jobs, gone most of the time, so we kept ourselves busy, dreaming about the slimy, squirmy fun that awaited us when the rain stopped.

And sure enough, once the sun peeked out and warmed the water-filled gutters, the sound hit us first, a deafening chorus of frogs croaking so loud, they drowned out the cicadas that droned on every summer day. That could only mean one thing, a gazillion tadpoles were waiting to be caught.

We raced to the highway gutters, bare feet splashing through the fresh rainwater, eyes scanning for the tiny wiggling creatures. Tadpoles and frogs were everywhere, and to us, that ditch might as well have been a magical, living science experiment.

Determined to witness the great transformation from tadpole to frog, we collected as many as we could, stuffing them into jars, glasses, and whatever containers we could find. We hoped to watch them grow legs, lose their tails, and hop right before our eyes. But… they never did. They multiplied between rains somehow, right?

And that’s when our genius idea struck, if we kept them inside, we could check on them every day!

So, we did what any curious (and completely clueless) kids would do: we hid shoeboxes filled with tadpoles and frogs under our beds.

For a few days, we excitedly peeked in, waiting for something miraculous to happen. And then we forgot about them.

A week later, the smell hit.

At first, we barely noticed. Kids get used to weird smells, and with four of us in a cramped trailer, let’s just say fresh air wasn’t always abundant. But soon, even we had to admit, something had died.

Momma came home and her face twisted up before she even made it through the door.

“What in the world is that stink?!” she hollered, flinging open windows and sniffing the air like a bloodhound on a mission.

We just shrugged, completely forgetting about our science experiment gone wrong.

Momma searched everywhere, the kitchen, the fridge, under the couch, trying to find what had crawled off and died. But, as the days passed, the odor mysteriously faded, and the mystery remained unsolved.

Then, fate (and the flu) stepped in.

One day, I came home from school feeling terrible. Feverish, weak, stomach rolling, I barely made it to Momma’s bed before the sickness took over. I vomited right beside the wall, leaving Momma no choice but to move the bed to clean it up.

And that’s when she saw them.

The shoeboxes.

The dozens of dried-up, shriveled frog carcasses.

Momma let out a scream so loud I thought the trailer might collapse. We ran to see what happened, only to find her glaring at us, hands on her hips, eyes full of fury.

All I can say is thank goodness for the flu, because the only thing that saved me from getting a switching from the outside bush was the fact that I was too weak to stand! My siblings, however…well, let’s just say they weren’t as lucky.

Lesson learned: frogs belong outside, shoeboxes are not aquariums, and never let a mystery smell go unsolved :)

#CountryLiving #TadpoleTrouble #MommaWasNotHappy #LessonLearned #FromThePineyWoods