Monday, June 9, 2014

June 9, 2014 - Rude Frogs

I almost missed this little guy.  Although he was small, he had a voice like Pavarotti.  Unmistakable.  There were two ponds, you see.  He was in one, and I had just come from the other, which was only a few yards away.  He asked me rather abruptly and loudly (one might say rudely) whether there were any good flies in the other pond.  I told him there were some but that he was probably better off where he was as his pond was shadier and had all manner of juicy insects.  In a manner of speaking, that is.  And that was when he accused me of trying to keep all the good flies for my own.  I defended myself, of course, but the more I defended, the louder he became until he was croaking at a ferocious rate.  But what do you expect from pond frogs of the decidedly unroyal kind?  They are certainly not known for their good manners, and I've a good mind to go back to that pond with some sticky fly tape and show him who's boss.  You can't allow frogs to push you around, after all, or you'll never hear the end of it from the toads.

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