MUSINGS: Frogs

By DELMAR LEATHAM

An old man was fishing one day when a frog jumped into his boat. He grabbed the frog and was about to throw it back into the lake when the frog spoke.
“If you kiss me, I will turn into a beautiful princess!” the frog said.
The old man put the frog down and went on fishing.

The frog croaked louder, “If you kiss me, I will turn into a beautiful princess and I will grant you three wishes.”
The old man went on fishing.
Finally the frog said, “Don’t you want to be rich and famous?”
The old man turned to the frog and said, “I think I would rather have a talking frog!”

This is a very old joke told by an old man and I’m sure you have heard it many times.
As a youth I spent many hours at the local log pond looking for tadpoles, frogs and snakes. My mother told me not to go to the lumber mill’s log pond and, being an obedient son, I made a bee line to the pond almost daily.
In the spring I could see the frog eggs floating in the water.

Later on, I could catch jars of tadpoles. I took them home and my mother put them in the goldfish bowl. The goldfish had died sometime during the winter and was sent on his final journey with the pull of the handle on the toilet. The same fate eventually befell the tadpoles.
Fortunately for me, by the beginning of summer, the log pond held a never-ending supply of frogs.

The creativity and cruelty of boys knows no limit. We would put a frog in a paper bag and place it in the road to be run over by-passing cars. A car would barely miss the bag and so we would move the bag a few inches to the right or left. The next car avoided hitting the bag and we were forced to move the bag again. This went on for several hours with every car missing the bag.

We grew frustrated with our game. How could twenty cars avoid a paper bag lying in the street? Alert drivers were missing the bag on purpose!

I’m sure if we were to place the bag in the street today all twenty cars would hit the bag as they speed down the road while talking on the phone with PETA (pedestrians for the ethical treatment of amphibians).

When we finally lost interest with our frog-in-the-bag game, we released the frog and moved on to the next activity.

My Aunt Ruby had a crab apple tree in her front yard. The green crab apples could be forced down the front end of a garden hose. We drained all the water from the hose and stuffed in eight or nine crab apples. When you turned on the water the compressed air would propel the apples with great force at passing bicyclists.

If you got hit by one it was a very painful experience. I was once shot in the leg with one and was assured by my brother that it was an accident. I had a perfectly round white circle on my leg that was surrounded by a larger purple bruise. All of the local frogs could be heard croaking with glee at my misfortune.

It is fascinating the transformation a frog egg goes through as it changes from an egg, to a tadpole, to a frog. It is reminiscent of the transformation we all make as we grow into adults.
I compare this to the life cycle of a politician. He starts out like an egg with so much potential and gives us all hope.

Soon he changes into a tadpole and lives off of his own income as he grows. Tadpoles have adequate food stored in their tails to feed on until they become frogs.

It is only when a politician grows into a frog that he begins to croak for our money, promising to make things better if we will support him. If we will help him become a fully developed politician, he promises to make us all rich and famous. All it will take is a few dollars and a kiss.

I guess it is time to listen to an old fisherman and prefer to have a talking frog.