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The house was the color of a very 

old doll.   Not quite pink, but more 

softly yellow fading into a rosy 

pink.

Fredrick lived in the lily pond in 

the lush gardens to the sunny 

south side of the villa. Fredrick 

was a bullfrog of quite a size.  

He was the last tadpole to survive the 

dreaded carp, who also lived in his beautiful 

green pond, and who always was looking to 

make a fat meal out of Fredrick.   Although 

Fredrick hoped he was now too large to be 

eaten by his golden enemies; who glided 

through the green water in a glittery haze,  

he was taking no chances. As he grew to a 

substantial size, so did those hungry fish.   

Fredrick’s favorite spot in the pond was at 

the far end under a lovely willow tree, 

whose branches trailed lazily into the water 

and under which a mass of lily pads were so 

thick that Fredrick only had to hop easily 

from one to the next to stay safely away 

from the fearful carp.

And if he did need to slip into the 

water, the stems of the pads 

were like a forest of thick trees 

and not conducive to fast 

swimming fish likely to sneak up 

on him. 

Here he lived an idyllic life, 

especially in the spring when the 

Mayflies were thick and fat and 

required hardly any hunting and 

only a little effort to seize a 

meal.   Of course, the carp liked 

the flies too, but there were 

always enough for everyone.  

Ah, Spring.   It also brought out stirrings and 

feelings in Fredrick of a slight restlessness.   A 

yearning for something…a need to CROAK loud 

croaks and grunts as if calling to someone. 

Sadly, no one ever answered, never the less, he 

went on croaking.   Swelling his throat into a 

mighty bubble and letting out the loudest sound 

a frog could produce, a veritable bellow.  

The carp would thrash about with their 

golden tails swishing the water in an angry 

way, at the annoyance of his fascination 

with his own voice keeping them awake 

during the spring months.   But as the 

summer wore on, his voice became less and 

less insistent until finally the need passed 

away and he was once more a silent 

creature of the pond.

Life was good for Fredrick sitting 

on his lily pads waiting for the 

May flies, mosquitoes, and once-

in-awhile a nice fat dragon fly, 

which were the tastiest of all, to 

fly by his long sticky tongue.

Then as he was dosing 

contentedly one warm morning, 

DISASTER STRUCK!   Out of the 

blue, an incredibly fast streak of 

pink snatched him up into the air 

where his poor feet drummed and 

thumped as if he were swimming.  

He was terrified!  

“Gotcha!” cried his captor. “Look Mother, I 

finally got him, isn’t he a beauty?” screamed a 

small voice.  

“Robbie, put him back in the pond this instant,” 

replied Mother.  

“Oh please can I keep him? Tommy has two little 

guys, but this one is twice as big as his” begged 

Robbie.

“What?” Mother replied.   “Where are these frogs, and when 

did Tommy get them?”  

“They’re in his closet in a jar.   He got them yesterday at 

Uncle Nick’s house on the other side of the village” replied 

Robbie.

“And just what was Tommy going to do with these slimy 

creatures?’ asked Mother.

“Well….we, uh…he was going to put them in Lydia’s bed 

tonight” revealed Robbie.

“I see,” said Mother.   “Go get me that jar, but first put that 

creature back where it belongs, in the pond.”

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