Frog in Palm – Photo: L. Weikel

Strange Discovery

Even thought it’s raw outside right now, it’s raining, so I know it’s still above freezing. That wasn’t the case the other day, when I went to my office and made a most peculiar discovery. No, the temperatures were definitely frigid that afternoon. The inch or so of snow that had fallen the night before and into the morning was showing no signs of melting.

I pulled my car into my office parking lot and backed up so I was close to the rear entrance. (Yes, in case you’re wondering, the Grey Ghost, aka Good Girl, is still my faithful steed.) I flung my door open and stepped one foot onto the black macadam. Just as I started to take a step with my other foot, I noticed a small stone roughly the size of a half dollar right in my path.

I’m always looking at stones, appreciating them for their beauty or distinct features, and this one made me do a double take. It was mottled, possibly sporting some lichen or something, judging from its coloring. Yet it was strangely symmetrical.

I bent down to pick it up and realized some of the markings resembled little feet tucked up to a cream colored belly. Gingerly, I picked it up and immediately knew – this was no stone.

Frozen Nugget

I was utterly dismayed to realize my discovery was no stone. It was a small frog. And it was frozen – frozen in a perfectly serene, nearly zen-like pose of tranquility.

When I picked it up, honestly, it felt as if I were holding an ice cube in my palm. All the while, I’m talking to it (as I am wont to do), telling it how glad I was that I hadn’t backed the car over it and squished it, or worse yet, stepped on it. Meanwhile, my mind was flipping through it its internal catalogue of random amphibian facts.

Hibernation

I’ll admit it; I seemed to recall that frogs hibernate in mud at the bottom of ponds and such, which made me wonder if they sometimes freeze, and then ultimately reanimate, essentially, when their bodies warm up. I supposed I could’ve looked it up, but I had work to do. So I brought the little guy with me, hoping I might thaw him out. I figured I could set him up with his own pad (couldn’t resist) and nurture him through the winter.

I felt like it was a possibility. Its skin was very supple. It didn’t feel at all as if the creature was dead, other than the fact that, underneath that soft, responsive skin felt like a little ice cube.

I took him into my office, set him down carefully while I did my errands, and brought him back outside with me. I wanted to hold him with both hands and really pump some energy and warmth back into his little body. So I brought him home and did just that. I even held my hands close to the fireplace in our living room.

Unrequited Effort

Sadly, I have no miracle to report. But I did managed to snag some pretty odd photos.

It wasn’t until I embraced the realization that no matter how much gentle heat I tried to radiate into him, nothing was going to bring him back, that I actually took a long hard look at him.

He was smiling. And his legs were tucked up underneath his body just perfectly. Everything about this little creature embodied complete surrender; certainly, no struggle or fear.

I kept him in the house for another hour or so, just in case he was thawing so gradually that, well, I don’t know. He might still spring forth revivified. When I realized for sure that he was dead, I started to take him out to the small patch of woods to a tree with a beautiful spot at its base where I take all creatures that may die around us: mice, birds, what have you.

Kin

And that’s when I remembered the large toad sculpture (with a smaller one on its back) that I have permanently guarding one of our maple trees. I placed the little guy on the back of the smaller frog (or toad – whatever), and it looked like a perfect resting place. It looks like it found its kin.

The whole experience and discovery was odd. But again, as I told him, I’m glad he wasn’t squished unceremoniously in my office parking lot. And I’m glad he shared his beauty with me. Yet I am puzzled by the perfection of his death and the truly bizarre place I found him. I can’t help but wonder how he ended up in that spot, in that position, frozen.

And that smile…wow.

 

(T-714)