Chapter 2: Fuzzy is a family man

Well, I have to eat crow.

No, one didn’t fall from the sky onto my plate.

Metaphorically speaking, I admit that the Craig’s list ad for a mate for my neighbor frog was premature: he already has one and I think a froglet.

I’ve seen them both, but only junior – the size of a child’s fingertip – was hopping about the grass during the day. Not a good idea, by the way, there are a lot of predators out there, including the rare snake. Dad is still ensconced in his cave until after dark; although he does come to his front door when I say hello.

Can you believe a grown man talks to a hole in the ground? And the frog appears!

I also assume that the Mrs. is in there with him.

I’ve observed that the parents have a clever habit: they mooch the pleasure of my air conditioning, not together, but individually. At some time after dark they position themselves outside at the bottom left corner of my front door, on the threshold. Not coincidentally, enough AC seeps through the space between the door and the jamb to give them a continuous AAAAHHHH.

By sunrise they are gone; back in their subterranean hut.

With all this observation I can imagine in miniscule measure Jane Goodall chronicling the chimpanzees.

I’ve been supplementing my notes with online learning about frogs in general. I’ll report the essentials with an update, Chapter 3.