one quiet night and one phantom paddle

So yesterday I got to wondering where is it all those frogs go when the creek’s all but dried up come mid-summer? Seems there’s as many tadpoles as hairs on my head in the springtime, and by April Aunt Kitty’s always saying she can’t hear herself think for all the racket they send up in the evenings. (What does a person thinking sound like anyhow?)

Me and Pilot and Wilbur got to talking about those frogs last night. I’ll admit I was doing most of the talking, but Pilot, he has his own way of making his opinions known. Goats, they aren’t none too smart, but Pilot and me, we just pretend Wilbur’s part of the talkin’ so as she doesn’t get to feeling left out.

See, we were laying in bed sweatin’–the window wide open, but not even a rumor of a breeze blowing through–and while I was trying to explain to the both of them that I loved them a whole lot, but it was just too darn hot to snuggle close, I got to thinkin’ how quiet it was out there. Pretty soon I figured seeing as how there wasn’t any sleeping happening anyway, we might as well work this out for ourselves while it was foremost in our thoughts.

We made it out the door quiet enough–well, except for Wilbur, who kept trying to curl her lips around a genuine dog whimper to let us know she was scared. Let me tell you, a goat wasn’t made to bark, and it certainly wasn’t made to whimper.

We were halfway down the hill and the moon lighting our way just fine when a rustling started up in the manzanita bushes beside us. I may have peed my pants just a little, but it was Wilbur who bolted back up the hill sending up a holler like to wake the dead. Sure enough, it wasn’t two minutes later Ben was on the back porch bellowing at us:

“Tevis! You had better be in your bed before I find my paddle!” Ben’s always saying stuff like that when he gets real mad. I don’t think he even has a paddle, but the idea of it sure is enough to get my hiney moving.

I was still puzzling over those frogs this morning and I reckon I’ll still be puzzling over them come next spring when they show up by the thousands. Now Aunt Kitty, she’d tell you there’s things on God’s earth we just aren’t meant to understand.

If I’m being real honest with you, I have to admit I get a real strong urge to spit in her eye when she says stuff like that.