These guys spend their late afternoons squatting on the front stoop of the doorways to their dugout homes that burrow into the soft clay on the edge of the pond. They look a bit like old men plopped down in rocking chairs on the front porch watching cars roll by on a lazy summer afternoon. I half expect one of them to pull out a banjo and start crooning.
I quietly and slowly drift across the surface of the water in a kayak, careful to keep my breathing as silent as a windless night so as not to disrupt this front porch community of giant green bull frogs.
All images @2024 Christy Berghoef. Any copying, usage or reproduction requires owner consent.
This noble fellow looks iridescent