Ouabache State Park made Angelkeep’s year busier since the baby bison joined the herd. Multiple visits tried to get a good glimpse of the growth of the infant calf. Infant seemed a bit of a wrong descriptor. 

The “red dog,” as called in the first few months of life, matched the size of any large pet dog. The autumn “red,” but really orange, color appeared at birth. 

Living close to the park became an advantage for regular visits to watch an American bison’s growth. Very few get to witness this type of “red dog” growing into adult stature.

Every new bison birthed at Ouabache offered a renewed guarantee that the herd would survive. The first three bison arrived May 29, 1936. Today’s herd turned age 88.

New life began to reveal itself in Angelpond about the time of the June 6 birth of “red dog.” Angelpond’s babies were miniscule when compared to an infant bison.

Angelpond needed a new influx of aquatic life since the pond took a direct hit from a very prolific and hungry mink over many months. How difficult it felt viewing dead bluegills floating on their side just under the first of the frozen crest as the pond first began to take on the winter’s ice cover. 

Mink kill and keep the “catch” preserved in the icy water bath until their next desired meal. Angelpond became the mink’s Frigidaire, so to speak. The losses included many “pan-size” bluegills, more meat than a McFilet-O-Gill sandwich, if such existed.

How delightful it became to see schools of newborn fish swimming near the pond’s shore. Dozens, if not hundreds, of transparent fish, only half an inch in length, swam in search of food. They were proof the fish population survived and progeny was produced. Most appeared to be bluegill. At this tender size largemouth bass look similar but carry the distinctive dark stripe down the side of transparent bodies.

Grandsons fished quite successfully on a summer day of catch-and-release. No bass, but the bluegills were larger than hand-size. They were likely parents of the schools of fish witnessed on several occasions.

Spring tadpoles were always a joy to behold. Angelkeep’s bull frogs and green frogs thrive. Angelpond could be described as a frog pond. While Mr. Mink mixed aquatic dining with small mammals, the frogs have a stronger nemesis. Frogs and large tadpoles are fine dining to herons. Angelkeep has an abundance of visiting fisher-herons. As the case with fish, many a large frog has been seen sliding head-first down the crooked heron’s neck. Meals always go down head-first in heron etiquette.

Hundreds of tadpoles assured the healthy existence of these Angelpond amphibians. Many are born only to become food for other wildlife. It’s all part of the cycle. Survivors croak their winning existence across the crest of Angelpond like a froggy national anthem played for a Green-Medal Winner.

Nature rewarded Angelkeep when stumbling past a large eight-square-foot mass of frog eggs. It looked like a floating glob of crystal tapioca. Perhaps more like transparent black eyed peas waiting to become tadpoles.

Newborn turtles appeared on different days at the south edge of Angelpond to announce the continuation of their reptile existence. Humans failed to observe the laying of the turtle eggs. The hatching likewise had been a private affair. A snapper of a size that had to have been in the first few days of its life (snapper births a former observance at Angelkeep) rested on the muddy bank of the pond. This short encounter, before it hastily dived and swam away, served as a reminder that the pond would be called home for potentially three or four more decades.

There’s one critter taken off Angelkeep’s endangered list.

Even more exciting than a baby snapping turtle was the infant painted turtle. Its shell measurement equaled the previous snapper. Angelkeep had never witnessed a painted turtle emerging from an egg. This was the first time seeing a painted so small. The thrill seemed only a small step down from meeting a human grandchild for the first time after its birth.

Angelpond lives on, and proved itself teeming with fresh new life.

Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their backyard and have named it “Angelkeep.”