I am a Certified Frog Farmer. Got my certificate in the mail today from the US Department of Agriculture. Not really, but I deserve it.
This spring, I purchased 6 tadpoles from Springdale Gardens in Greenville hoping that 1 or 2 might eventually make it to frog-hood. Not one or two, but all six have now lost their tails, grown some legs and have perched themselves at various ambush points in our goldfish pond, which is rapidly becoming a frog pond.
As an almost-Certified Frog Farmer, it is my duty to feed and nourish my frogs much as a cattle farmer would take care of his steers and heifers. Currently, my frog-stock is being fed a diet of leftover meal worms that I once fed my bluebirds, plus live crickets (when I can catch them) and a new addition – red wigglers from Uncle Jim’s Worm Farm. Really, but he’s not my uncle.
A frog I have named Hunter, because he is the best catcher of bugs and insects in the entire pond, was the first to sample a red wiggler. I placed the worm on a nearby lily pad and when it twitched, Hunter was there in a bullfrog minute. At first, he sat and stared, then when the worm wiggled again, Hunter grabbed it by the tail (it may have been the head, it’s hard to tell with worms) and gulped it down in three swallows. Hunter and Friendly are the larger of my young frogs. The other four are too small to handle a worm yet, but they are death on crickets.
Yes-siree, it looks like I will have a bumper crop of frogs come fall. I intend to take them to the Frog Auction in Nashville where they’ll be judged and sold to the highest bidder. Next year, I’ll buy a dozen tadpoles. Farming can be a tough life, but rewarding. I wish now that I had taken FFA in junior high school.
