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Sep. 16th, 2002 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateFriday night I went to the craft store, then came back. Nothing unusual in either of these, except that when I was driving home I took the cut through Suburbia[TM], and something ran across the road in front of me.
Thing had a weird gait. Stretch-stretch-stretch-stretch. Not scootscootscoot like a ground squirrel, or trotty like a cat. Not a regular squirrel, being tail-free and too far from cover.
I stopped, since killing stuff is icky and it also gets in the tire tread. The thing stopped, too, and inflated its throat, and I saw it was a frog. This is a prairie state, so you don't see a lot of frogs in the street. Or any, ever, really. For some reason it had decided to cross the road, rather than follow the creek bed that crossed underneath. Adventure frog.
Well okay. I like frogs, as a concept. I changed my science track in high school to Pilot Ground School so I wouldn't have to kill one. Plus there's a worldwide frog shortage. I sat there and waited for it to move.
It sat also, doing the throat thing, looking like it would never move again.
I tried turning off the headlights, thinking this might encourage it somehow. It still sat there. I turned them back on again. It didn't move, apart from the inflating thing.
Well shit. The only thing I could think of was to get out and somehow herd it to safety, but there was always the chance I'd somehow have to touch it, which I'm really not up for, and anyway when it returned to its herd bearing the Scent of Man, the other frogs might kill it. So I drove around it in a wide arc, hoping this wouldn't startle it into leaping under the car.
Two cars came the other way. I hope frog crossed before they got there, or had the sense to stay in his own lane until they passed.
Which Sylvia Plath Poem Am I?
by scintilla
Whatever, ya loonbag drama queen.
Thing had a weird gait. Stretch-stretch-stretch-stretch. Not scootscootscoot like a ground squirrel, or trotty like a cat. Not a regular squirrel, being tail-free and too far from cover.
I stopped, since killing stuff is icky and it also gets in the tire tread. The thing stopped, too, and inflated its throat, and I saw it was a frog. This is a prairie state, so you don't see a lot of frogs in the street. Or any, ever, really. For some reason it had decided to cross the road, rather than follow the creek bed that crossed underneath. Adventure frog.
Well okay. I like frogs, as a concept. I changed my science track in high school to Pilot Ground School so I wouldn't have to kill one. Plus there's a worldwide frog shortage. I sat there and waited for it to move.
It sat also, doing the throat thing, looking like it would never move again.
I tried turning off the headlights, thinking this might encourage it somehow. It still sat there. I turned them back on again. It didn't move, apart from the inflating thing.
Well shit. The only thing I could think of was to get out and somehow herd it to safety, but there was always the chance I'd somehow have to touch it, which I'm really not up for, and anyway when it returned to its herd bearing the Scent of Man, the other frogs might kill it. So I drove around it in a wide arc, hoping this wouldn't startle it into leaping under the car.
Two cars came the other way. I hope frog crossed before they got there, or had the sense to stay in his own lane until they passed.
Which Sylvia Plath Poem Am I?
by scintilla
Whatever, ya loonbag drama queen.