Frogs.(Short Story)

When I watched each of my three sons flailing the nursery air after birth, my first clear thought was that we had some serious work to do to smooth out those jerky arm motions before they could become the fine fly fishermen I hoped they would be.

Not long after the third one was born, therefore, I bought three pairs of rubber boots, which looked like hip boots on them. I decided to start them out with casting gear, and I searched until I found some nearly unbreakable fiberglass rods and dependable reels.

I also talked to several people about where we should fish, eventually deciding on Myers Lake. Once you step off its bank into the water, you rarely sink very far into the mud, never far enough to risk losing boots or to make young boys think they're being sucked into a hole. And in late May and early June bluegills and sunfish aggressively guard their spawning beds within casting distance of the shoreline.

When we set out, the boys were still pretty young--Jon was seven, Joel was six, and Jason was three. But I thought the sooner they started, the sooner they could get really good. Once we reached the lake, the boys obeyed without a squawk when I told them to sit on a picnic table while I finished rigging their poles. But as we walked to the shore, a leopard frog jumped across Jason's path.

And that was the first of dozens, all basking in the sun near the shore till we came trundling through. Then they went into a popcorn frenzy of jumping--many into the water, many away from us, a few actually bouncing off our legs.

The boys took several quick looks--at me, at one another, and at the frogs. Then, simultaneously, they dropped their rods, yanked off their boots and socks, and started creeping and lunging after the frogs. Soon they persuaded me, still in my waders, to get down on hands and knees and try to herd the frogs toward the flexing traps of their little hands.

When one would catch a frog, he would bring it over to show it off. "Look, Dad, look!" he exulted as the nearly squished flog excreted orangish liquid through his fingers and down his forearm. "It's a great big one, maybe the king of all the frogs, but leaking like crazy!"