The Irresistible Charm of Frogs (2024)

We have had a little visitor this past week, to whose presence my husband drew my attention. (Now, that is a perfectly grammatical sentence that manages to be perfectly awkward. The English teacher in me wavers.) Our basem*nt bathroom (lower level, as the realtors like to say) has a well window. Our wells are old and too large for the bubble covers you can buy at the big home improvement stores, so they are unenclosed. In the nearly twenty-five years we've lived here, we've never seen any animal in them with the exception of the occasional toad. They have seemed fat, happy, and safe, with a plentiful supply of yummy bugs, so we've left them alone.

But the other day, my husband called me to come look at something, and sighing, I got up to go and see. Apparently, we had a friend.

After some discussion, we decided to let him be. He seemed contented. There were insects to eat, and soft soil to dig into. It was essentially a giant open-sky terrarium. I reassured my husband—who for some reason thinks of me as the local version of David Attenborough—that he would be fine.

But all week long, my husband noted that the tree frog (you can tell by the toes) seemed to be watching him. I was fairly blase about it, because I wasn’t down there very often, and the frog didn’t have the opportunity to work his wiles upon me. But my husband began to feel some concern for the little guy’s welfare.

Last night I was already in my pajamas, ready to watch a movie, and on my second glass of wine, which may help explain the following events. I admit, had the conversation between us last night been overheard, it would have entertained. My husband called me again to come look at the frog.

“I think he’s trying to communicate with me,” my husband said. “He looks skinnier.”

I laughed dismissively, but agreed to come and look. There he was, big eyes staring in from the rain, seemingly fixed upon our presence. Immediately I began making noises like someone confronted with a winsome puppy.

“We must be scary to him,” I said.

The frog watched us with large blinking eyes. I did that thing they tell you never to do: I gently tapped on the glass. The frog did nothing for a moment, then stood up on his hind legs.

”Look.” said my husband. “He wants us to help him.”

I didn’t scoff, but I was trying to be careful.

“Look,” I said. “He’s fine. He has bugs. He has dirt. He has a safe place. We should leave him alone.”

But then I started thinking. He’s a tree frog. Doesn’t he need…trees?

And then the frog, watching us closely, waved at us. And the process that had taken an entire week to ensnare my husband worked instantly on me.

“Oh, look at him!” I said.

“See?” said my husband. “I told you.”

And I was forced to agree. It did seem like a call for help. Surely frogs don’t ask human beings for help, would be the reasonable response. But we were caught in a web of froggish charm. And he was, after all, a tree frog without a tree.

“Okay,” I said, now thoroughly convinced. “The rain has mostly stopped. Let’s get him out.” As we went upstairs together I added, “I mean, you can get him out. I’m not lying on the mud in my clean pajamas.”

The rescue was mostly uneventful. For us. The frog tried to bury himself in the dirt as my husband reached for him, but my husband gently lifted him out in cupped hands and carried him across the lawn to the woods. “On a tree, or near a tree?” He asked. “Near seems fine,” I said, having no clue.

And so, the frog was released, and immediately hopped off into the undergrowth, one hopes to a new and better life.

Later, as I perused a tree frog website, I read “tree frogs are animals that like to observe, and they don’t need to be held.” Which, on the face of it seems odd advice, but to any reasonably empathetic human confronted with a tree frog, they do seem to need coddling and affection. Also, apparently, soaps, perfumes, or chemicals on our hands can harm their very delicate skin….just in case you should encounter a tree frog in your window well and be struck by an urge to hold him.

I should add that I have newfound appreciation for The Frog Prince, which I have always found unappealing. Maybe there’s something to this enchanted frog tradition after all.

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And now for your gratuitous dog photo:

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