Beautiful frog eyes

Occasionally it's good to take good hard look at your life and assess:

A) Where you've been.

B) Where you're going

C) And when the last time you really got down close and personal to a toad or a frog, or, in my case, both.

See, ‘cause frogs and toads are really cool critters. And yeah, sure, frogs have sorta slimy skin and toads have warty skin and don't taste good (don't ask me how I know this), but what I do know for 100 percent fact is that they have what I like to call bee-yoooo-ti-ful eyes.

And yeah, sure, some guys are butt guys (they like elk) and some guys are boob guys (they like Holsteins) and some guys are eye guys (they like frogs).

I'm an eye guy. The problem is getting up close and personal with frog sounds really cool in theory, but in practice, well, in practice it's not nearly as cool as it sounds.

Because in practice, it's, well, downright cold.

Here's what happened to me the other night. The other night Boy Wonder and I went to a beaver pond, which is sort of a beaver pond, but isn't because it used to be two beaver ponds, but one beaver colony bit the dust and their dam sprung a leak and they left or were eaten.

(I like to think they were eaten, it's more dramatic, sells newspapers.)

So at any rate, you can walk around in the old beaver pond while the new beaver pond is just above you. This, as you might guess, is also a pretty good place to be a frog because frogs and toads like a couple of things:

A) Water

B) Bugs

C) Some soggy land to hide in

Beavers, as it turns out, are pretty good at creating such habitat. So like I said, we were wandering around and I saw some frogs and I got my macro lens and got down close and personal with a mighty fine toad that also had yellowish orange legs and then with a frog that had the most golden eyes you ever did see.

Meanwhile, the water worked its way up my leg into my underpants, because I was, after all, lying in a swamp.

And then I heard a Splash! and Boy Wonder was up to his armpits in water as well (don't tell his mother, but he had her hat on and I'm pretty sure it filled full of swamp water. I hung it back on the clock at the house where it usually hangs. I'm sure she won't notice.)

Turns out that the bank he was standing on gave way and into the drink he went. Fortunately it was only up to his waist and he didn't mind too much, in fact he didn't mind at all, and I kept on taking photos until the light went bad and we got the heck out of there.

We were both black with mud, you know, the sort of thing that would get a normal kid in trouble, but we're not normal kids.

We're frog lovers. Eyes guys.

Chicks don't dig us, but we don't care.

Swamps are our thing.