Frogs cry

This is going to sound like a Tall Tale but I swear it is true.  Yesterday morning  began as an ordinary day. I milked Daisy the cow.   Then Queenie Wineti convinced me that the cows should be allowed out on the greening grass for a bit. Daisy has been schooling her in the Intense Look.  It works.

The grass is growing.. really growing.  Beautiful.  But not tall enough for these big mouths yet so only a few hours at a time. 

Only we can look at a lovely pile of cow poo and  think –  fertiliser, exciting stuff!  I fed the chickens, and ‘Get Fat Right Now’ -Big Bobby, the steer and Hairy MacLairy, the ram. Looked for the lost cat, still no sign of him.

Mama and Minty were told – No it is neither hot nor Winter, you are not coming into the barn!
 I fed the Baby Bobby and then the Shush Sisters.  And Charlotte that is not your best side. 

Camera who was behaving badly in my left hand the whole time.

While walking with the dogs down the back I passed the long puddle in the drive and there was a tiny bright green  and yellow frog sat in there.  I told Ton to go Down, which he did, then slowly I went down too so as to get a shot of this funny looking  little frog in a big puddle.  Lucky Mary’s Cat is on Walkabout, I said to the frog.  This little frog went into a spasm of leaping, jumping and springing around and around. No way I could focus on him.  His behaviour was quite manic and almost circular. Then suddenly he came to a halt right in front of me, his legs spread out behind him, then he swam slowly towards my eye in the camera, he lifted his head up out of the puddle and I stopped breathing preparing to take the shot. His little black eye caught my eye through the viewfinder. Then he opened his mouth into the perfect parody of a wide mouth frog and he cried out to me. eeeeee eeeee. eeeee eeeee.

It was an other worldly sound. Tinny, tiny, a thin reed of a scream.  I cannot describe it. Put your head right back. Screw your face up and close your throat, stretch you mouth out really wide,  then force a little air  and sound right through the back of your closed throat.  Make a flat high E sound…  eeee -as high as you can go. Now do it again. This is what I heard. A desperate strangled cry.  But pointed, aimed directly at me.   Do Frogs cry.  This little frog was crying with terror. The frog cried out to me. I have never heard anything like it.  Why did he do that? Why did he call out? Why didn’t he just bounce away. Then he just froze and waited. Everything was silent.

I put Camera down by my downed dog.  Crept forward and carefully picked up the little frog and rising with him I carried him to the frog garden.  In my cupped hands he only moved to stretch once and reposition his muscly legs. Otherwise he was quite still.  Do frogs play possum or was it almost dead I thought.

There you are, I said,  as I opened my hands to make a ramp. He hopped slowly in under the frog garden board walk.  Plop. And was gone.

This is the only shot Camera gave me, but you can see his little eye watching as he swam through the puddle towards me.

A very strange messenger frog.

Yet it was an oddly satisfying encounter.  

The dogs and I proceeded on our walk looking for Mary’s Cat and I noticed that the bees were holding hands in the early morning. I don’t know why. Yesterday morning was full of mysteries.

Good morning. It is still dark.   Almost 6 am and quite dark. But our day begins anyway.

Have a lovely day. Watch out for puddles.

celi