This morning The Frog was sitting by the side of the pool at around 6:30 a.m. when I left through the backyard to take The Dog for a walk. And I know this because, as I walked past the pool, I heard a plunk into the water. I looked back into the pool in the general area of the plunk and saw this.
That's The Frog sitting on one of the steps to our pool waiting for me and The Dog to get the heck outta the backyard so he (or she) can get back out of the pool to eat some bugs or whatever he (or she) was doing when The Dog and I so rudely interrupted. (This photo also shows how desperately we need to get our pool resurfaced, but you are going to ignore that, recognizing that we'd planned such maintenance for this spring but now that project, like all other non-essential maintenance project, is being deferred indefinitely.)
I think that The Frog is a Southern Leopard Frog. Southern Leopard Frogs sound like THAT.
About a week ago, The Working Dad and I were awakened in the night by THAT sound, except that it sounded muffled and almost mechanical. We could not figure it out. We thought maybe it was a wounded bird, maybe a baby opossum . . . a frog, we did not come up with. It would go silent during the day. "Nocturnal," we thought. We settled on it being a baby opossum who had lost its mom. We were sad for it. We tried to, but could not find it.
Every night -- or really around 5:00 a.m. -- THAT sound would start up again. Muffled and mechanical and, we thought, the sound of a dying baby opossum that we could not find. It was tragic.
The Working Dad started leaving the back porch light on to maybe stop the creature making the sound (nocturnal creatures not being fond of the light, you see). It seemed to work, but then . . . .
On Sunday afternoon, we heard THAT sound. In the broad daylight!!!!
I went into the backyard and waited for the sound. And it happened. I moved to the area of the yard the sound seemed to be coming from and picked up a stick. I gently prodded the bushes, hoping to cause the creature to make the sound again. And it did make the sound again, but it was coming from behind me, where the pool was.
I turned.
I heard THAT sound again. And, remember that I said it sounded almost mechanical? The sound was coming from the pool drain.
I opened the drain. It was full almost to the top with blossoms that had fallen from our pear tree in the backyard.
I waited. And I heard the sound again. It was definitely the pool drain, I decided. Something was stuck in all of the detritus and it was making our pool drain make THAT sound.
I stuck my hand in, heedless of what might lie in wait for me, and started pulling handfuls of pear flowers out of the drain. When I was halfway done, I saw it: A frog's leg kicking away from the flowers, trying to escape the drain and the giant hand that had scooped and reached so near to it over and over and over again. THAT sound wasn't the drain and it wasn't mechanical. It was the muffled call of a trapped frog.
After a couple of tries, I managed to catch The Frog and set it on the pool deck. The Frog sat for a moment, stunned, and then hopped off into the ground cover next to the pool.
As far as I can figure, The Frog had gotten stuck in the drain at some point on Thursday night last week. It couldn't escape the drain, but because the drain was so full of flowers, it had a nice little island to sit on, rather than be sucked to the bottom and drown. I imagine that the odd bug made its way in there at one point or another, which served as sustenance. So for four or five days -- which must be an eternity to a frog, it was stuck on an island of flowers eating bugs, catch as catch can. I'd like to think that The Frog was happy to be free, however harrowing that escape might have been. I was glad to have been of assistance.
I wasn't sure I'd ever see The Frog again, so this morning, I was delighted to find that, despite The Frog's not-so-fun several days in our pool drain, he (or she) had decided to hang around our house at least for now. Welcome to the family, froggy friend.
