
“Betcha can’t eat just one”?
When spring rolls around–and our spring, here in New Jersey, has been very cold and wet so far–my editor, Susan, calls me up to let me listen to the chorus of spring peepers who come out of hibernation and sing in her back yard. These are charming little frogs who whoop it up for a week or two and then disappear. Mating season, I guess.
When I was a boy, my friend Ellen–showing off!–accidentally swallowed a spring peeper. Right on my back porch: my mother would’ve been appalled, had she seen that. I’m afraid I laughed. “What’s the matter–got a frog in your throat?”
Well, I’ve heard the peepers on my phone. I wish they’d show up here, but somehow they don’t. Maybe they don’t know Ellen moved away a long time ago.