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Tuesday, May 23, 2006Southeastern Chorus FrogsHave you ever heard of them? Actually, you may have heard them singing without realizing what they were. In the quiet of early evening, these little boogers sit by the hundreds and thousands in fields and meadows, chirping to their froggy hearts' content. The collective sound is ethereal, mystical. I never would have paid attention to it, if it weren't for my close-second-to-Steve-Irwin son. He has this wondrous way of revealing nature's wonders to me -- quite a feat, considering the fact that I am a complete bug-and-critter freak. So, the southeastern chorus frog became a part of my Tennessee Nature repertoire. And as of yesterday, our relationship has become even more intimate. Jonathan brought four of them home. Don't ask me how he found them. They are tiny, shy creatures, not easily spotted. The kid has this Dr. Doolittle effect on wildlife, I swear. So he comes in the house with four southeastern chorus frogs and several million tadpoles. (Okay, he says there are sixteen. I swear there were more.) The frogs are precious, each one no more than an inch long, with smooth, yellowy-green bodies and sweetly bulging eyes. And their song -- oy! How something that tiny produces such a loud sound is beyond me. Except there's a wee problem. Two of them have gone missing. Now, it's bad enough feeling guilty about the fate of a minute creature who never wanted to visit in the first place. What's really creeping me out, though, is thoughts of Dead Frog. I have smelled Dead Frog. It is as putrid and gag-inducing as Dead Toad, Dead Fish, and Dead Nightcrawler. You know as well as I do that the two missing froggies are going to crawl into crevices and die. It may have happened already. Then, in a day or two, my house will be appropriately perfumed. If I appear out of sorts over the next couple of days, you'll know why. Heaven help the next child who brings a living creature into this house. Nature Schmature. I'm nothing but a Girl Scout drop-out, anyway. Ugh. Labels: parenting |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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7of my readers are feeling chatty:
Hey Jill, its been a while :-)
All I can say to your post is good luck! and Ewwww, Ewwww, Ewwwwwwwwwwww!!!
Wasn't it a Brownie drop-out?
:o)
Ribbit... CROAK!
Thankfully, I nor my son ever cultivated the "bring something gross from nature home" gene.
I think we have the same little critters here, except we call them "spring peepers". They do have the sweetest call. One of my favorite parts of Spring. :)
Ewww is right. The smell of dead animals is definitely putrid.
I hope that the frogs turn up soon...not belly up of course.
I would tell you to get a cat but Eric wouldn't appreciate that!
Jerry -- how in the world did your wife get that lucky??
Mrs. Atroxi -- According to my son, spring peepers are not the same species as the southeastern chorus frog, though their habits and songs are similar. Not that I would know these things -- I'm just repeating what I've been told. :)
Leese -- So far, no frogs have turned up. Maybe I could pitch a tent for Eric in the back yard and get a cat!
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