Conversation With A Green Bullfrog
One of the best investments I have ever made was my tractor. It makes doing jobs around the farm a lot easier, especially preparing the soil for my garden each year. The soil is worked up with a tiller, killing weeds and preparing the ground to be planted with crops. I have learned if I want a nice garden the soil must be worked before planting. This year’s garden was no exception, not a sign of weeds reappearing in nearly a week after tilling.
Something strange happened as I worked my garden this year. It happened while I was taking a break under the shade of a Sycamore tree near my garden. I paused my work to figure how I was going to lay out this year’s garden. Each year I rotate where crops are planted, I figure it takes a few weeks longer for the bugs to find them. I guess they suffer from memory loss over the winter.
On that particular day, I had just sat down and taken a cool drink of water when I noticed a large bull frog hopping towards me. He must have been hidden in a shadowy opening in the earth below the tree roots. I could tell he was a very old frog. His dark green skin and bright yellow eyes gave him a very serious appearance. Given his enormous size I knew he was a skilled hunter and had eaten a ton of flies and bugs in his long life. I also realized this old amphibian had the look of possessing great wisdom.
As he approached, I began to wonder what this old frog wanted with me. I knew he could not think I was a choice for his next meal. I was sure he had noticed that I too had not missed any suppers in the past few years. Finally, he came close, sat down and looked straight at me. He lowered his ponderous size onto the ground, he seemed even larger.
For a moment, he sat looking at me with his cold yellow eyes. I will have to say I was fascinated by him, so I looked right back at him with my blue eyes. He closed one of his eyes and then the other, always he kept one eye on me at all times. Next, he raised one of his four fingered hands and wiped it across the top of his head and then across his eyes. I thought this strange, but not being a frog I reckoned he knew what he was doing.
Without warning the frog puffed himself up to nearly twice his size and asked, “Do you have a comb that I may borrow, BLUE EYES?” Now, I will tell you I was shocked when he spoke those words. After all, what could a frog want with my comb? I will have to say I didn’t exactly like the way he called me BLUE EYES!
“Sorry Mr. Frog, you cannot use my comb.” Hearing this, the big old frog swelled up once again and let out a deep “BARROOM” bellowing sound that I was sure could be heard by my neighbors. I thought, what would the neighbors think, if they saw me talking with a bullfrog. I bet they would be jealous he had stopped by to see me and not them. After a moment, he moved his rump deeper into the grass as he said to me “My name is Felix and I’ll thank you to remember that.”
I thought to myself, he is arrogant for a frog; especially one who wants to borrow my comb and to be called Felix. How odd is this ugly green relative of a common gray bumpy toad. “Ok, Mr. Felix, why would a bullfrog like yourself want my comb?” He puffed up and quickly responded, “To comb my hair of course you, FOOLISH HUMAN!” Now, I was somewhat offended being called a human by a great green bullfrog. But, still I could not see a single hair on the head of this green blob of a creature.
The frog again wallered into the grass as he looked at me and said, “I heard you when you proclaimed to your neighbor your garden soil was finer than a green frogs hair did you not say them words?” I thought for a moment and realized that I had said those very words just the day before. “But, Mr. Felix, I meant no disrespect; I only meant the ground was perfect for planting. Finer than a green frog’s hair is a good thing. It meant it can be no finer. It was not my intention to make fun, just a humorous way of expressing something that is of a very fine quality. Fine as a green frog’s hair, if a frog has hair it has to be so fine no one can see it. So you see Mr. Felix, the hair on your shiny green head has to be very fine.”
The frog ballooned up in size as he biliously said, “See there, HUMAN, you said it again! I take offensive to your words. You think your words are humorous, but to a bald headed green frog they are offensive and rude. I take offense that your kind, HUMANS, think because you don’t mean harm it is okay to say.”
We sat there for a few minutes in the shade of the old sycamore and neither said a word to the other. Finally, I looked at him and said, “It is a sorry time in our world, when everything we say is judged by political correctness. We are supposed to be intelligent and have the ability to judge when words are spoken with a disagreeable intent or just said to illustrate how we feel about something. If the time is coming when every green frog and every man sees only the bad in our words, perhaps the day will come when will not speak at all. Then we don’t even have to ask what the other meant, we just knew they meant something bad.”
I figured since I did say those words, I’d make the first move towards improving my relations with the great green bullfrog, so I handed him my comb. Sure enough he did comb his fine hair, his Mighty Fine Hair. That’s how I spent an afternoon learning how to understand political correctness between me and a green bullfrog as we both looked Through the Lens.