Day 158: Not far above the point where the Westside Road crosses Fish Creek, the road takes a sudden dip where an old culvert collapsed during one of Tahoma Creek's many flooding tantrums. A trickle of the creek still flows there in the early season, its progress slowed by accumulated rock and sand. At present on the high side of the slump, there is a small pool, not much bigger than a bathtub (if not as deep), and as I approached it on my walk, I noticed ripples on the surface. As I got closer, I saw what I took to be a fish tail disappearing into a hollow beneath some rocks. "Sculpins," I remarked aloud as I walked past. "It's gotta be sculpins."
On the way back down the hill an hour or so later, I thought I'd try to sneak up on them, camera at the ready. Well back of the site, I slowed my pace and started inching forward with a soft and irregular gait. If you've read Frank Herbert's "Dune," my technique could be likened to that used by the Fremen in crossing the spice desert without awakening the sand-worms...step, drag, drag, step, step, wait, drag, step. At ten paces, a splash informed me that my stealth skills needed additional work. And then I spotted something which was not a rock. Neither was it a sculpin, as I'd supposed. I snapped a few long zoom shots for documentation purposes and then, risking all, began edging toward my quarry for a closer portrait.
I won't claim this as a testament to my frog-stalking ability, but rather will attribute it to the braveness of my little friend. I could not capture enough field characteristics to identify Froggus cutus due to the light on the water surface, but if you look carefully, you can see his little feet and hands.
Footnote: I referred Froggus cutus to an expert for identification: Rana cascadae, Cascades Frog.
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