by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett
The pool is now open, and I'm playing lifeguard. Mind you, I'm not even a very good swimmer, although--brag, brag--I was very good at the whip-kick back in my high school days. And one day was even called upon to demonstrate it for the entire class (of about 40 kids).
And how did I learn this kick so well? My gym teacher, who was about 8 months pregnant at the time, got sick of trying to explain the maneuver, and made me get out of the pool, grabbed my legs and demonstrated the proper way it was supposed to be done. Worked for me--at least better than her verbal instructions.
Unfortunately, there's not a lot of call for whip kicking these days. We look at the pool more than we swim in it. But, every summer there are some dim-bulb toads who think to themselves, "I'm an amphibian. I'm meant to go in water." Yes, but not 22,000 gallons of it, especially if they can't figure out how to get out.
Mr. (or Ms.) Toad happily jumps in and then says, "Oh, crap--now what?"
If they're lucky, I am at home and looking out the window and will RUSH outside, grab the pool skimmer thing and attempt a rescue. I say attempt because some rescues go better than others. (I don't want to think about the baby ducks that have perished in the money pit.)
So far this year I've only had to rescue one toad (and sometimes I think I end up rescuing the same toad over and over again). I must admit, I always feel good after a rescue. I'll put the toad in the garden and hope they find lots of bugs and slugs, and then go chill under the ivy leaves. But honestly, I'd much rather they stayed of the water altogether.
Have you rescued anything lately?