Frogs and Worms

One of my earliest memories from camp had to do with frogs and worms. The frogs that congregated in a relatively narrow strip of shore between the Gladdings and the Harrigans were huge; and catching them was a favorite pastime when I visited as a kid. No, I never harmed them. It was “catch and (eventual) release” all the way. I would bring them to Margie and Pa each time to proudly show them my accomplishment; occasionally having to convince them that it was a different frog than the previous one. (Looking back, I was probably catching the same few frogs over and over and over). I knew that they were not particularly happy about me catching them, but I suspect it was tolerated because it kept me occupied for hours. And it was a fairly easy way to keep track of my whereabouts.

It was (and, come to think of it, still is) the closest that I have ever been to hunting. I realize now that hunting for frogs certainly can’t compare to hunting for deer or fox. It was nonetheless a very exciting adventure; a childhood game of wits, patience, and some physical accomplishment (it took the kind of quick moves and reflexes that would be most difficult to summon nowadays).

I wonder if the frogs are still there.

I’m sure that the worms are still there. It was a lot easier catching them. It never ceased to amaze me to see that worms liked coffee grounds. At that age, I hated the taste of coffee. I couldn’t imagine why worms would like anything that tasted like coffee. I remember listening (in disbelief) when Pa told me the first time that if we dumped the left over coffee grounds onto a pile of leaves in front of the cottage, giant worms would come up and eat them; making it very easy to catch them. But over and over, just as sure as the sun rose, so did the worms.

I don’t know what everyone else did when they first arrived at camp, but I know what I did. I started looking for frogs and worms.