Laurie R. King

I love Nature, really I do. There’s a reason I live in a house with nothing but trees as far as a stone can throw, with neighbors who have wings

or wattles

or sometimes large teeth.

But in my last house, we had a half-barrel pond near the front door, with plants and lilies. The birds liked it, and various nocturnal wildlife draped by for a drink…and then one wet winter, the frogs wandered farther from the distant creek than usual, and took up residence in the pond.

Frogs are noisy. In the spring, yes, but in California’s climate, all year. The single bedroom on that side of the house held an oblivious teenager, so it wasn’t a real problem, but it was incredibly noisy, considering that these were fairly tiny frogs.

A few nights ago, something woke me up. Hrmmpf? Sounds like..

A frog. A loud, persistent frog. Loud because it woke me, and persistent because no, it was not going to stop and also because it had wandered half a mile uphill from the nearest water source. And, on the side of the house in which all the bedrooms have windows. But I went back to sleep, and it did too, and I thought nothing more of it…until the next night.

Damn it. So I began to plot ways to catch it: what would be an appealing house for Pseudacris regilla? If I could figure that out, I could find him during the day and return him to damper lands…

Imagining the several irritating nights to come, I jokingly grumbled at my son as he headed out the door after dark that if he happened to spot the frog, he should catch it.

Five minutes later, he stuck his head inside and asked what I wanted him to do with it.

The answer was put him in here–

so I could take him here–

and leave him near the running water here–

I tell you, if you want a job done, you don’t call in the Marines–you just ask an Army Ranger as he’s passing by.