Two Green Frogs showed up in my tiny pond this spring, a dominant male and a satellite male. They stuck around for a while, hanging on the lily pads that never want to bloom. I kept hoping they would attract a female, get some action going. But alas, my pond didn’t seem to be good enough for a Green Frog woman to move in. They pick their mates based on the desirability of the territory they’re able to defend. And then I stopped seeing the males. I thought perhaps they were in search of better digs to attract the girls. And then this week the lilies began to bloom, first one blossom and then another, yellow splashes against the duckweed green. Things were looking up – even without the frogs. They must have fertilized the lilies enough to encourage the blooms.
But tragedy is never far away. This afternoon I heard the lawn mower stop, the screen door bang, and sobs come wailing in my direction. I am ashamed to say I was grateful it was just the dominant Green Frog, sliced down its side by the teenage chic. So I think that’s the end of the mowing for this week. I laid the still-breathing frog under the hostas beneath the walnut tree where the garden snake had slithered while I examined the scene. I hope the rest of the Green Frogs won’t hold this against us. I really like their company. But maybe the female Green Frogs were right. My pond has some safety issues.
As I heard quoted this week, “Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the show?”