Whilst de-thatching with Margaret on Sunday I happened upon a frog hopping for dear life. Being the soft-hearted old fool that I am (as opposed to the frog tormenting young fool I once was) I stopped to transport the frog to safety. Hey, I have a pond. Ponds need frogs!

After a bit of lurching about the lawn in pursuit of the frog I cornered and captured it. Off to the pond. The frog, btw, was a beautiful shade of tan at the time and a little bit slippery despite the lawn being dry. At the pond I knelt down and gently released the frog, a foot or so from shore.

I don't know about you, but I usually don't think twice about putting a frog in water. This frog, when tossed into the deep end of the pond, kicked once...sank a bit, kicked again, and then in a shear fit of resignation to the fates sank like a rock, or at least a non-frog, to the bottom!

"Oh, crap!"

At which point I jammed my arm shoulder deep into the pond to save a frog from drowning. The frog, being much smarter than I, scooted away to a safe crevice behind a rock, leaving me with a soaked sleeve and an improved perspective.

Maybe it's some new frog death feinting trick: I swear it looked like the frog was sliding to his watery demise. Not at all unlike ol' Leonardo in Titanic.

The rest of the afternoon, each time I walked by the pond, the frog would wink at me in a "hey, buddy, save any frogs lately?" kind of sarcastic manner that only frogs really know how to pull off.

If you look up Wood Frog you'll find tidbits like: "Breeding: Early spring, before ice has completely melted from water." and "Primarily diurnal." and "In the colder parts of its range, the Wood Frog is an explosive breeder."

I think Zeke and I stumbled across the later as we walked past a pond on the way home. The air was alive with the raspy quacks of excited frogs and on the far shore, just barely in range of the zoom lens, were hundreds of frogs leaping and creaking and, you know, being all explosive and stuff.

Gotta love Spring.