By Deanna Barnhardt Kawatski
Celista, BC
Late one covid afternoon while lead-bellied clouds cast gloom across my room I saw the oddest thing. A lump of grey fluff was hopping for the hinterland, a heavy chest with a letter slot space underneath. The lump slipped neatly through. I fetched my flashlight, and flat on my belly searched the dark corners, shining it directly into the terrified eyes of a tiny creature dressed in a bunny costume—dust bunny that is. “Oh no! Trevor!” I cried because unbeknownst to you dear reader, we were acquainted. The tree frog lived outside in my window-box and was clearly unaware of the covid lockdown. Without a backward glance Trevor bunny-hopped into the darkest recess of the chest underworld.
What to do…I hollered for Eric and he came equipped with a rectangular screen that just fit under the chest. I held the flashlight while Eric tried to capture Trevor. Stretched flat out with our necks at awful angles, we would have been any chiropractor’s dream. But try as we might Trevor dodged the device. We retreated in full defeat.
He’ll need water; I reasoned and slid a red lid full under the chest. Tree frogs can live up to eight years in captivity but I hoped to set him free. Later tiptoeing back in, I peeked and there was Trevor, back to bright green, taking up a space the size of a dime and regarding me with obsidian bead eyes. He’d rehydrated by sipping through his skin. Soggy bits of bunny suit lay in tatters around him. Despite his giant voice he remained mute. How to capture him…I snuck away, returning with a cream cheese container. However Trevor was one hop ahead. He was already pinned to the glass door gazing outward. Careful not to touch his delicate skin I scooped him up and opened the door. He tumbled out, and blinked up at me from his landing pad, a pansy leaf.
True to his homing instinct, Trevor is back in the window-box. When we visit I talk, he listens. Then at dusk the final word—CROAK!
Trevor the Tree Frog,
Copyright © Deanna Barnhardt Kawatski, 2020
Trevor is a lucky little frog, Deanna. Love how he got in the last word.
Thanks, Ineke. I haven’t seen Trevor lately and I do miss him.
Stay well.
Deanna