Exploring According to Og the Frog
Look for all of the adventures in Room 26
Starring Og the Frog
Life According to Og the Frog
Exploring According to Og the Frog
Starring Humphrey
The World According to Humphrey
Friendship According to Humphrey
Trouble According to Humphrey
Surprises According to Humphrey
Adventure According to Humphrey
Summer According to Humphrey
School Days According to Humphrey
Mysteries According to Humphrey
Winter According to Humphrey
Secrets According to Humphrey
Imagination According to Humphrey
Spring According to Humphrey
Fun Humphrey nonfiction
Humphrey’s Book of FUN-FUN-FUN
Humphrey’s World of Pets
Don’t miss
Betty G. Birney’s chapter books for younger readers
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
Copyright © 2019 by Betty G. Birney.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
G. P. Putnam’s Sons is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us online at penguinrandomhouse.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Birney, Betty G., author.
Title: Exploring according to Og the Frog / Betty G. Birney.
Description: New York, NY : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, [2019]
Summary: Og the Frog finally gets the chance to explore human world and to assist Humphrey the Hamster in helping their human friends in Room 26.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018028700 (print) | LCCN 2018035099 (ebook) | ISBN 9781524739980 (ebook) | ISBN 9781524739973 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Frogs—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.B5229 (ebook) | LCC PZ7.B5229 Exp 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018028700
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Jessica Jenkins; Photos courtesy of Shutterstock.com
Version_1
To the dedicated humans working around the globe to protect amphibian populations, which are declining at an alarming rate
CONTENTS
Also by Betty Birney
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. Boxed In
2. My Mission Begins
3. The Great Unknown
4. All Hail Prince Boing-Boing
5. I Leap Outside the Box
6. Trouble in Humphreyville
7. On the Job
8. My Incredible Journey
9. Another Journey
10. A Frog’s Home Is His Castle
11. The Trip to Humphreyville
Sing-Along Suggestions for Og’s Songs
About the Author
Boxed In
There’s so much to see in the swamp: blue sky, mucky brown water, green lily pads, and all kinds of colorful (and yummy) insects. As our teacher, Granny Greenleaf, told us little tads in the swamp, “If you want a view, the swamp is for you!” Why would anyone ever want to leave? And even if someone did, how would he begin? As a young tad, I had no idea.
* * *
In Room 26, the view is very different from the swamp!
I have only lived at Longfellow School for a short time, but luckily, I’m a clever frog, and I caught on to life in the classroom in a hurry. Right now, though, I am looking at something strange even for a classroom—a sea of boxes.
Boxes are everywhere!
One thing I’ve learned is that although frogs and other swamp creatures like me love living out in the open near water, humans prefer to live in boxes. Their houses may all look different, but to my froggy eyes, they are all boxes, divided into smaller boxes called rooms.
Not only do humans live in boxes, so do hamsters!
At least Humphrey does, and he’s the only hamster I know. He lives in a box with sides made of bars, called a cage. It sits on a table by the window, right next to my tank.
I, at least, have glass walls and some water, but it’s still a lot different from the way I lived back in the swamp not so long ago.
And now our teacher, Mrs. Brisbane, has the class building a little town with houses and buildings made from—you guessed it—boxes.
As we say in the swamp, “Whatever makes you hoppy!”
“SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” my neighbor shouts.
Humphrey’s squeaks sound cheerful, maybe because they’ve named the little town Humphreyville. I’m never sure what he’s thinking, though, because I haven’t understood a word he’s said so far! And he clearly doesn’t understand my green frog “BOINGs.”
The humans don’t, either. They don’t understand that “BOING-BOING” might mean “thank you.” Or “BOING-BOING” might mean “good job!” They think one boing is like another, which isn’t true.
At least I’ve been able to figure out what humans are saying.
“Don’t forget the small details of your house,” Mrs. Brisbane reminds the big tads. “And think about the other town buildings as well, like the school and city hall.”
More boxes.
Mandy Payne works on the biggest box of all. “I’m making a huge, fancy house with lots of windows,” she says. “And my own room.”
“What kind of dinosaur can jump higher than a house?” Kirk asks.
“You tell us,” Mrs. Brisbane says. She knows Kirk likes to tell jokes.
“All of them!” he answers. “Houses can’t jump.”
BING-BANG-BOING! How does he think of these things?
The class settles down, and I look around the room. As usual, everything is bright and clean. (Especially after a man named Aldo comes in with his broom and mop each weeknight.)
It’s nothing like the swamp, which is a wonderland of mud, pond scum and damp grass.
I don’t think most humans would like to live in the swamp, but many other creatures do. Not just frogs, but slithery snakes, lizards and turtles, cranes and eagles, bats, owls, and tasty treats like dragonflies, mosquitoes and— yum—crickets.
We frogs like a home that’s a bit damp and mucky. I don’t even mind some glorious goo. As our teacher, Granny Greenleaf, taught us, “A place that’s wetter is a place that’s better. Get too dry, and it’s bye-bye!”
I think about the mud, and after a while, I hear a melody in my head. Before I even know it, I’ve thought up a song.
I like writing poems and songs in my spare time. I get an idea and let it splash around in my brain, and suddenly, I’m singing. This time, my song is about my ideal home.
How I love a mucky home,
Mucky home,
> Mucky home!
How I love a mucky home,
One with a water view.
I love a house that drips a bit,
Drips a bit,
Drips a bit!
I love a house that drips a bit,
With gunk and grime and goo.
I love a home with bugs nearby,
Bugs nearby,
Bugs nearby!
I love a home with bugs nearby
If I can grab a few!
Don’t get the wrong idea. My tank isn’t bad. It’s half land and half water, so I can take a dip anytime I feel a little dry. Mrs. Brisbane’s husband, Bert, has added a lot of greenery, and I get good treats (though not as many juicy, wiggly crickets as I’d like).
The bell rings for recess, and it’s time for me to relax in the water and let my mind roam free.
Float. Doze. Be.
Today, my mind roams back to McKenzie’s Marsh, where I used to live before I was frognapped and brought here to Longfellow School. My name was Bongo then, but the students in Miss Loomis’s class didn’t know that, so they called me Og. I don’t mind.
I was scared when the man took me from the swamp, but I don’t think he knew he was doing a bad thing. In fact, he looked at me and said, “You are a good-looking frog. A real prince of a frog!” A prince—really? Did he know something I don’t know?
Then he gave me to his grandson, who brought me to school to be a classroom pet.
Life wasn’t all lily pads and lah-de-dah there in the swamp. I was always trying to catch enough food to fill my belly . . . without ending up as dinner for a bigger creature! Here in Room 26, I have no enemies, at least so far. I don’t have to hunt because humans throw food into my tank.
But sometimes I get a tiny bit bored. I keep busy swimming, hopping and watching my furry neighbor. Of course, I also write songs and poems.
My memories of the swamp fade away when the students—I think of them as big tadpoles—return from recess. Mrs. Brisbane tells them to get out their math books, and the door opens.
“Welcome, Paul,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “Please come right in.”
Hey, I know that boy! It’s Paul Fletcher.
“Class, some of you may know Paul Fletcher from Miss Loomis’s class. He is going to be coming into our class for math,” our teacher says.
“Hi, friend!” I boing. He is usually in Room 27, where I lived for a little while. I liked it there, but a bullfrog named George was there first, and he badmouthed me from morning until night.
“RUM-RUM. RUM-RUM!” he’d repeat over and over.
He was as bad as Louie the Loudmouth, the leader of the bullying bullfrogs back in the swamp. Miss Loomis had to shout her lessons to be heard over George.
Paul passes by my tank on his way to his chair.
“Hi, Og,” he says softly. “Glad to see you.”
“BOING!” I answer softly. “Same here.”
Some of the big tads make whispery noises, and Heidi points out that Paul is a year younger than the students in our class. That makes Paul stare down at the floor.
Mrs. Brisbane explains that even though he’s a little bit younger, he is an excellent math student, so he will be studying with them.
And she’s right. Even with George rum-rumming in Room 27, I could see Paul was good with numbers.
I don’t know a lot about classroom math. In the swamp, all I needed to know about numbers is that one bullfrog is one bullfrog too many, and the best way to measure things is a hop, skip and a jump! But humans like to solve more difficult problems.
Mrs. Brisbane gives her students a tricky one that day. I even hear Art moan. The big tads work hard, but I can see that he and Mandy and a few other big tads are having trouble solving it by the way they chew their pencils and frown.
Paul has an easier time and finishes quickly.
“Way to go!” I shout, making a big splash when he puts his pencil down.
When math is over and Paul leaves, Heidi whispers to Gail, “What is he, some kind of brainiac?”
“More like a know-it-all,” Gail mutters.
Kirk nods. “A real show-off.”
A know-it-all and a show-off? I’d say Paul is on the ball and a smart student.
Mrs. Brisbane overhears them and shakes her head. “There’ll be none of that talk here,” she says firmly. “Everyone in this classroom is good at something. For Paul, it’s math. So no more name calling. Ever.”
The room gets quiet and stays that way.
* * *
The next day, Paul returns for math.
Mrs. Brisbane is writing on the board, and she doesn’t hear Mandy whisper, “Here comes Mr. Know-It-All.”
“Watch it!” I warn her. “BOING-BOING!”
Paul keeps his head down, listens to the teacher and solves the problems.
I remember something Granny Greenleaf once said back in the swamp. “Hold your head high, even when you’re feeling low.”
I’ve tried it, and it works. Sometimes, when you’re feeling low down, it’s hard to keep your chin up, but it makes you feel better. Stronger. Hoppier.
“Hold your head high!” I tell Paul.
Unfortunately, the big tads laugh. They’re laughing at my boings, but I can see that Paul thinks they’re laughing at him. Now I’ve made things worse when I was trying to make them better!
I feel as useless as a dragonfly with waterlogged wings.
Then Humphrey speaks up, too. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”
The tads laugh again, and Paul’s face gets redder.
“Class, stop laughing right now! We’re here to learn, and you’re upsetting Humphrey and Og,” Mrs. Brisbane says.
For once I understand what Humphrey is thinking. He doesn’t like the big tads’ rudeness, and neither do I. BING-BANG-BOING! I think we’re making progress.
* * *
Throughout the week, the big tads are as busy as beavers working on Humphreyville, which grows a little bit every day.
More boxes are added to the town along with a patch of green labeled OG THE FROG NATURE PRESERVE. I’m glad they didn’t name a box after me!
When Paul comes in, some of the students roll their eyes. But at least they keep quiet, while Paul keeps his head down (which is the opposite of holding your head high).
Then comes Friday, the day when Mrs. Brisbane announces which student will take Humphrey home for the weekend.
Everybody always wants to take Humphrey home for the weekend.
I stay back in Room 26. Mrs. Brisbane says it’s more difficult to take me home because my tank is so heavy. And I don’t need to have food and water as often as Humphrey. For a small creature who is mostly fur, he sure eats a lot! And what he doesn’t eat, he saves in his cheek pouch.
If you think eating crickets like I do is icky, imagine storing food in your cheeks! Eww!
Mandy is not so pleased when she learns she won’t be taking Humphrey home. “I never get to take him,” she complains. Mrs. Brisbane points out that she has not returned a signed permission slip from her parents, which makes Mandy as flustered as a snapping turtle with weak jaws.
Seth lets out a whoop when he learns that he will have Humphrey for the weekend. He is a friendly human, but he has a hard time sitting still. He taps and twitches. He jiggles and wiggles. Sometimes I get tired just watching him!
I think Humphrey will have his paws full at Seth’s house this weekend, while I will have plenty of time to think.
Maybe I’ll figure out what I can do to help Paul feel comfortable in our class.
After Aldo leaves Friday night (thanks to him for giving me some extra food), I have the classroom all to myself, and now I have a clear view of the houses in Humphreyville. They’re all different, but every one is made from a box.
&n
bsp; My fellow swamp creatures live in many kinds of homes. There are nests for the birds, while bats like a comfy crack in a tree. Beavers think big, building huge lodges out of wood.
Other creatures—like me and my frog friends—find our shelter under logs and leaves wherever we roam. That’s right, I am a roaming kind of creature. Or at least I was before I became a classroom pet and got boxed in.
But here in my nice clean tank, at least I have some water, rocks and a bit of muck.
How many times did Granny Greenleaf tell us, “Whatever you do, wherever you are, make the most of your time, and you’ll go far!”?
I get busy on my exercise routine so that even if I’m stuck in a tank, I’ll still be the great leaper I was back in the swamp. First, I splash. I mean, I really splash.
Next come my jumping jacks. With each leap, I try to go a little higher. While I do, I think of my best frog friend in the swamp, Jumpin’ Jack. We were both high jumpers, and I could understand everything he said, unlike my new friend Humphrey!
Push-ups are next on my list, followed by a series of giant leaps across my rock.
To finish, I swim so many laps, I lose count. Maybe I should pay more attention in math class, the way Paul does.
By the time I finish, it’s already starting to get dark outside. After all, it’s winter.
I relax on my rock and take some deep breaths. Time to Float. Doze. Be.
I am so relaxed after all that exercise that I fall fast asleep.
* * *
When I wake up, it’s morning. Right away, I realize something is strange. The light is different than on other days. I turn to look toward the window, and I see it: snow.
I sit and stare for a long time because it’s so white and so beautiful.
If I were still in the swamp, I’d be taking a long winter’s nap. It’s called hibernating.
I guess Jumpin’ Jack and all my green frog pals in the swamp are hibernating now. They’re not watching the fluffy snowflakes silently paint the world white. Think of all they’re missing!