A Visit from Spider and Frog Pt 2

My daughter bounded into the house. "Yuck". What is it? "There's a big fricken' frog sticking to the side of the house." How big. "BIG!"

Sticking to the side of the house. That's a tree frog. But a big one. No. A Big Fricken' Frog. How big is that. I've seen one the size of a small grape but they are usually smaller than that.  I looked out the window and the tree frog was the size of a frog.

I paused. I've never seen that before. Once again. I opened up the door, "Tansi, Ni Na Napayo." I thought of the word, Leegitz. Which is the name my mother had for the girl's privates. I also knew that she used the English word, Frog, to mean the same. Was this the word. I wasn't sure.

What I was sure of was that the word for frog in Anishinaabemowin, the Ojibway language was "Muckie". This I knew because many years ago our second youngest daughter sang a heartfelt and often entertaining version of "Froggie Goes A Courtin'." The song had enough verses in the Anishinaabe language to exceed my entire Cree vocabulary.

"Tansi, Boozhoo, Muckie." My granddaughter and her cousin are curiously watching. I tell them that I think this tree frog is very old, because it's so large and that I have never seen one that size before.

"Tansi, Muckie, Boozhoo, Ahnee" My granddaughter turns to her cousin. "It's an old grandpa talking to an old grandpa." I'm not that old, I think. "Yes, that is an old Muckie, I'm gonna take his picture."

I feel again that I should document this moment. Then, I get that moment of unease. That there are things that should be seen and remembered. That some things are just for you. I know this. But I've made this committment. This is part of the journey. I want to share it.

The girls return

to their game and I open the door back up. I greet Muckie and say that I want to take his picture. I move up slowly. Speaking softly and take a few pictures. I thank him for visiting and wish him well. My favourite is the one take from further away. You can see the trees in the background.

I know that thousands of frogs are singing in the swamp and surrounding trees and other habitat. It is a symphony of our spring and it rises to levels that border cacophony. I have said, in these days, that I envy the frog. Singing to the night. Singing and singing. Fighting and breeding. And singing and singing. Just an insanely joyful expression of life.

The frog has been my teacher for many years. It's the only creature that I can say I had an unreasonable fear of when I was young. It was also the creature onto whom I committed my most regrettable act as a boy.