Hello My Baby, Hello My Honey....

I love nature. I love flora and I love fauna of all different types. As long as it's not invading my house.

For the last couple of days, I've been hunting a frog. At least, I think it's a frog. It makes a trilling sound, and sometimes it appears to be coming from under the sofa. I've heard the sound before, when I've been out walking around the neighbourhood, either in the morning or the evenings. They hang out in the pine forests that surround our subdivision, and with the various birds we have living nearby, it makes a lovely symphony. Unless it's in the house.

Two days ago, I heard a strange sound, and the four-year-old came running to me in the office, saying "What was it? What was that sound? Find it!" I asked her where it was coming from, and she said it was in the living room. So, we looked. We looked under the sofa, we looked behind the cedar chest. We checked some of the boxes that we still haven't unpacked in the almost two months since we moved in. I couldn't find anything. I told her it was something outside, and not to worry about it. But of course, I began worrying about it. I began worrying about little beady eyes staring at me from a dark corner, waiting to pounce and suck my blood.

I heard the sound again yesterday, and this time it sounded like it was in the garage. Great, I thought, it's migrating. So, off I went, to check in boxes, poke behind lawn equipment with a broom, and pray that nothing jumped on me. Late last night, it got ridiculous. It was like that scene from the Three Amigos, where El Guapo and his men try to take over the village and it seems like the Three Amigos are everywhere. The four-year-old was shouting from her bed for us to "Find that noise!", and my husband and I were looking in the backyard, the front yard, and everywhere in between. And then we narrowed it down.

I think our little frog as wandered into the flower bed in front of our house, just under the living room window, and is hiding out in the azaleas. He sat there and chirped happily through the eight o'clock hour, and boy, was he loud. I tried to see where he was, but I think he has burrowed into the pine straw we use as mulch down here. We've had a bit of rain lately, and the pine straw is nice and damp. I imagine he thought it would be a cool place for a bachelor pad, and of course, that's why he's singing his little heart out. He's trying to find someone to move in with him. And that's fine with me, as long as they don't plan to build the nursery in my garage.