Wildlife According to Og the Frog Read online

  Dear friend Star Frog, you are wise,

  From your perch up in the skies.

  Tell us what you think and see,

  Tell us what it’s like to be

  A great Star Frog, up so high,

  Sending greetings from the sky.

  “And here you are,” Froggins says when they finish. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you, Star Frog.” The other green frogs bow. “We are honored.”

  To be polite, I bow back, even though I know I’m no Star Frog.

  “We would like to show you the rest of the lake,” Froggins says. “Will you join us in a group swim?”

  I’m always up for exploring, and this will be my chance to see something new. Even the famous frog explorer, Sir Hiram Hopwell, probably never saw Lake Lavender.

  “Sure!” I say.

  And we’re off!

  Humans might not know that some frogs don’t like to swim very much. In fact, tree frogs and others like them spend almost no time in the water. And they still call themselves frogs!

  But green frogs, like me, and bullfrogs (the less said about them, the better) love to be in the water. So to us, there’s nothing more fun than a group swim.

  We must look like a giant green wave as we make our way across the lake.

  And oh, what a lake it is!

  Lily pads and logs, weeping willows almost touching the water, and everything around the lake is the color of a green frog!

  I do see a snake or two and remember the dangers back in McKenzie’s Marsh.

  “Do you have snapping turtles here?” I ask Froggins.

  “Never heard of them,” he answers, and that’s good news to me. I don’t have to worry about one of Chopper’s relatives lying in wait in the water.

  From the sun, I can tell it’s afternoon now. We stop to rest at the opposite bank of the lake from where we started.

  I manage to catch three juicy flies and six little mosquitoes and am eyeing a tasty dragonfly when I hear a far-off sound that’s somehow familiar.

  “Humans!” Froggins says. “Lie low.”

  Humans! That’s good news to me.

  “Luckily, they’re on the other side of the lake,” Froggins observes.

  That’s bad news to me.

  The human voices are distant, and I can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

  Is it “Frog! Frog!”? Or could it be “Og! Og!”?

  If I could get closer, I might get found and taken back to camp.

  As nice as Lake Lavender is, I’m ready to go back to camp, to my friends . . . and especially to Humphrey.

  “I think I’d better get back,” I tell Froggins.

  “I understand,” he replies. “After all, you have to return to your place in the sky by tonight.”

  I’d like to set Froggins and his friends straight on who I actually am, but I’m not sure they’d believe me. I’m also anxious to return to camp.

  “Let’s go!” I say. And we start swimming.

  The way back to our starting place seems to take a lot longer than the swim to the far shore.

  We swim and swim and swim some more.

  Sometimes I hear a faint echo of “Og! Og!”

  And then I don’t. I guess the campers stopped looking for me.

  By the time we get back to shore again, the human voices have stopped, and I’m exhausted. After all, I’ve spent the last few months swimming in a small tank, so I just had quite a workout.

  The sun is low in the sky, and there’s a new but familiar sound: a loud chorus of bullfrogs.

  “Rum-RUM-RUMMMM! RUMMM! RUMMMM! RUMMMM!”

  I guess bullfrogs are pretty much the same everywhere.

  The sky darkens, and in between the bullfrogs’ rumming, I hear the sweet song of the crickets.

  “Look up!” Froggins suddenly says. “It’s night . . . but the Star Frog isn’t there. Proof that Og is a Star Frog.”

  I look up and don’t see stars of any kind because it’s cloudy. But I’m even more sure than ever that I couldn’t convince these frogs I’m not one of the Star Frogs if I tried.

  I move away from the group, to the shore of Lake Lavender.

  Then I remember about the Howler. He’s out there somewhere in Haunted Hollow. And Aldo said that’s on the lake. Will I hear his horrible cry any second now? Will my blood curdle?

  I sit and listen. There are many different night sounds made by frogs and other creatures.

  QUANK-QUANK-QUANK!

  RUM-RUM-RUM!

  TUCK-A-TUCK-A-TUCK!

  CHIRP-CHIRP-CHIRP!

  Nothing I haven’t heard before. Nothing even close to blood-curdling so far.

  I’d like to head back to camp, but I don’t know the way. While I’m not thrilled about spending the night anywhere there might be a Howler, I really don’t want to get lost in the woods!

  Unexpected Rescue

  Unexpected friendships are often the best.

  —Granny Greenleaf’s Wildlife Wisdom

  I still hear QUANKs and loud RUMs, CHIRPs and TUCK-A-TUCKs. I don’t hear human voices, though.

  Did the campers give up when I didn’t answer their calls? Has Humphrey already forgotten me and all the good times we had?

  Or does Humphrey miss me, but he’s stuck in his cage in some cabin at Camp Happy Hollow?

  Hours pass without any sign of the Howler.

  But there is a new sound: a strange rustling in the tall grass. Something is moving toward the lake. I can see the stalks rippling in the moonlight.

  Is the Howler approaching? I hear a whoosh in the grass.

  The sound grows closer. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.

  I plan my escape from the Howler. I’ll dive in the water and swim away. But what if the beast can swim?

  I suddenly wish I could be a Star Frog and magically escape to the sky.

  The noise grows closer. What are those squeaks? Does the Howler wear squeaky shoes?

  I back up into the shallow water, prepared to dive deeper at any moment. I haven’t been so scared since I woke up from a nap in the swamp and was looking straight into Chopper’s massive jaws!

  At last I hear it. That unmistakable sound. The sound I’ve heard a thousand times in Room 26.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  My ears must be playing tricks on me, but I hear it again!

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  It’s impossible, but just in case, I shout, “Humphrey?”

  The answer is immediate. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK! SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  “I’m here, Humphrey!” I shout. I know he can’t understand me, but maybe he’ll hear my boings.

  I take a few hops forward, and I see his tiny silhouette in the moonlight. It’s Humphrey, looking so small, so furry and so brave.

  I leap closer, and yep, it’s him all right.

  “Humphrey! How’d you find me?” I ask.

  But then I see dozens of tiny eyes blinking in the dark. I think Humphrey must have gotten some small, furry woodland creatures to help guide him. And I was worried that he couldn’t take care of himself in the wild!

  “I missed you, pal!” I say.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” he answers. Of course he missed me! Why else would he risk the dangers of the wilds of Camp Happy Hollow to find me?

  “WHOO-WHOO. WHOO-WHOO!”

  There’s an owl nearby. The throng of tiny field mice suddenly crowd around us.

  “Squeak-squeak-squeak,” they tell Humphrey in tiny voices, and we all move to the cover of the brush.

  Back in the swamp, I didn’t pay much attention to field mice. Just like Froggins said, nonfurry creatures don’t hang out with furry things in the wild.

  Yet these mice helped Hump
hrey find me. And now they surround us and start moving up the hill.

  We are silent, except for the rustling of the grass.

  In the distance, I hear the green frogs calling. No, I’m wrong. They’re singing their Star Frog song.

  Thank you, Star Frog, and bye-bye.

  Have a safe trip to the sky.

  We will see your twinkling beams,

  Anytime the full moon gleams.

  In the future we will share

  Stories of a frog so rare!

  I look up at the sky. The clouds have drifted away, and there it is: the Star Frog up in the sky.

  Well, at least I gave them some good stories to tell.

  * * *

  It’s a long way back to camp, but I’m impressed with how fast Humphrey can run through the grass. I guess all that wheel spinning has paid off.

  But I keep a close eye on my furry pal. After all, he’s never been in the wild at night before. He has no idea of what dangers are out here. I’ll bet he thinks that ripple in the grass ahead of us is just the sound of the wind . . . but I’m certain there’s a snake in our path. And frogs and small furry creatures are just what he’s looking for!

  (That’s why I’ll never really trust Jake.)

  “Follow me! This way!” I boing, and hop off to the left to make a wide circle around the snake in the grass.

  I hope it isn’t Jake.

  Luckily, Humphrey and the mice follow, and the rippling fades and disappears.

  When we reach the steps of the Robins’ Nest cabin, the mice and I are quiet, except for Humphrey and a cute little mouse squeaking back and forth.

  They must understand each other. It sounds like they are special friends.

  As the mice skitter away into the night, I thank them. “BOING-BOING!” I say, hoping they understand what I mean.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” they answer. Maybe the wild mice figured out I saved them from a snake.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Humphrey adds. I wonder if he knows I helped him.

  It was a long trip through the grass, and my skin is feeling dry.

  Thoughtful as always, Humphrey leads me to a nice puddle of water, and I plop right in.

  We sit there together for the rest of the night, but when it starts to get light, Humphrey squeaks something to me and then slides back under the cabin door.

  I know Humphrey. He has some sort of plan.

  So I sit and wait, loving the feeling of nice, gooey mud on my skin.

  I may have dozed off, but I jump when the loud wake-up music blares. I can hear the girls moving around the cabin, but it takes a minute before I hear a piercing hamster squeak.

  There are footsteps, and then Miranda shouts, “Humphrey! You’re out of your cage!”

  In a flash, Humphrey is sliding out the door again. Miranda is right behind him as he scampers down to the puddle where I am waiting.

  “Og! That’s Og!” Miranda screams.

  The other girls are outside now, squealing happily as Gail gently scoops me up and Miranda runs off to tell Ms. Mac.

  Soon Humphrey’s in his cage and I’m back in my tank.

  Ms. Mac thinks one of the girls left the cage door open.

  “And you, Humphrey, were naughty to get out of your cage,” she tells my friend.

  But I know the truth. My best buddy is a true friend and a brave hero.

  And no matter what Froggins said, sometimes a furry creature can be a frog’s truest, most trusted friend.

  After all, we are both wild things.

  * * *

  Everybody cheers when Humphrey and I are carried into the dining hall. I guess they missed us!

  Noah stands up and apologizes to me. “I thought I knew a lot about animals,” he says. “I thought that frogs belonged with frogs. But now I know some frogs belong with people.”

  Some frogs belong with hamsters, too.

  Hap sends the campers off for the final events of the Clash of the Cabins.

  Katie takes my tank, telling Humphrey, “I think Maria is preparing some special treats for you.” She adds, “You look a little skinny today. I’ll come get you in a little while.”

  Who wouldn’t look skinny, walking all across Camp Happy Hollow and back on those tiny feet?

  “Eat up!” I tell him.

  At the Nature Center, Katie places my tank on the table. “The campers will be coming in most of the day to take their nature tests, so we’ll have to be quiet.”

  “Fine with me!” I boing back. I’ve had quite enough excitement for a while.

  I hear Hap Holloway on the loudspeaker calling for Katie to come to the dining hall for a short meeting.

  “Oh, I forgot!” she says, and dashes out of the Nature Center.

  The room is completely silent after she leaves. Jake and Lovey are napping.

  I’d like to Float. Doze. Be. For a while, at least. But strangely enough, I keep glancing over at Jake the Snake’s terrarium and thinking of Mrs. Wright’s beloved silver whistle hidden under there.

  It will take a few minutes for Katie to get to the meeting. Even if it’s short, the meeting will last awhile, and then it will take her a few more minutes to get back to the Nature Center.

  I’ll be taking a big chance, but I decide to go get the whistle and pull it out into the open, where some human will surely see it.

  It doesn’t take me long to pop the top off my tank. I’ve had a lot of practice doing that!

  I hop down to Jake’s terrarium. It’s a lot like my tank, but it’s lower and wider and there’s no water in it, only tree branches and leaves.

  I see his beady eyes watching everything I do. I sure hope he can’t pop the top off his tank! I try not to look at him.

  Hunkering down to look at that little space under the terrarium, I see a problem. I can’t fit under there, and I can’t reach it with my legs. I glance around to see if there’s something I can use to push or pull the whistle out. There’s nothing helpful on the table, and if I go search the rest of the room, I will surely get caught outside my tank again!

  “Ssssss,” Jake hisses. I glance up and see that he looks restless and a little hungry.

  I’m about to give up and go back to my tank when I remember I have a secret weapon that most other creatures don’t have: a long and powerful tongue that’s attached to the front of my mouth instead of the back.

  Pretending that the whistle cord is a cricket in the marsh, I whip my tongue out as fast as I can, grab the cord and pull it toward me.

  Success! I hook the cord under my back legs and drag it back to my spot on the table. My plan is to leave it right outside my tank where no one can miss it.

  Then I stretch out my legs and leap as high as I can, right into my tank, landing with a mighty splash.

  The splash is different than usual because my plan didn’t work out as I expected. The cord was wrapped around my back leg, and now the silver whistle is in the water with me! No wonder my back leg felt so heavy.

  It’s too risky to try to take it out again because Katie may come back at any time. The best I can do is to push it to the front of the tank. Someone will see it there—I hope.

  I hop up on my rock and sing.

  There was a swamp where lived a frog

  And Bongo was his name-o.

  B-O-N-G-O.

  B-O-N-G-O—

  My song is interrupted when a surprising trio enters. It’s Mrs. Wright, and she’s with Simon and Ty!

  “We thought we were being funny, Mrs. Wright,” Simon says. “But when Katie announced how important that whistle is to you, I felt terrible.”

  “Me too,” Ty adds.

  “It wasn’t a funny prank, was it? But I appreciate you boys stepping forward and admitting what you did,” Mrs. Wright says.

  BING-BANG-BOIN
G! They did the right thing after all!

  “The whistle’s over here.” Ty rushes over to Jake’s terrarium and slides his hand in the space under it.

  He looks shocked—and why shouldn’t he?

  “It’s not here!” he says.

  Simon joins him and reaches under the terrarium as well. “It has to be! This is where we hid it.”

  Mrs. Wright takes a ruler out of the desk and pokes it around under the tank. “Maybe it’s stuck,” she says.

  “It’s not stuck!” I tell them. “It’s over here—in my tank!”

  They don’t pay attention to my boings.

  “Boys? Are you sure you hid it here?” she asks.

  “Yes!” they answer.

  “But it’s over here now!” I hop up and down on my rock. “In my tank!”

  “What is Og so excited about?” Mrs. Wright asks. “You’d think he wants to tell us something.”

  Ty comes over to my tank. “Quiet down, Og. We can’t hear ourselves think.”

  “The whistle is here!” I repeat.

  Simon and Mrs. Wright move over to my tank as well.

  “Something must be wrong,” Mrs. Wright says. “What is it, Og?”

  “Look in the water!” I tell them.

  Mrs. Wright turns to the boys. “Do you think he’s sick?”

  Simon bends down so he’s eye level with me. “He looks all—oh! There it is!”

  BING-BANG-BOING! He’s pointing at the whistle.

  Mrs. Wright gasps. “It’s my whistle! How on earth did it get in there? Are you boys playing another prank?”

  “No, honest we’re not,” Simon says. “I’ll get it.”

  “Be careful not to disturb Og,” Mrs. Wright says.

  Believe me, I don’t mind being a little disturbed if she can get her whistle back!

  Once the whistle is rescued, Mrs. Wright dries it off on her shirt, then stares at it lovingly.

  I didn’t mean to pull a prank, but it turned out to be a pretty good one!

  Clashing Cabins

  A true winner knows the only real competition is yourself.