Trying to describe the sounds of a steamy, hot July night in Mississippi is about as difficult as describing the sounds of an orchestra. For a couple of boys born and raised in the Deep South, it all sounded perfect. Hoot owls, screech owls, grasshoppers, crickets, tree frogs, peepers, and the ultimate summer time quarry,…bullfrogs the size of the old black rotary telephones,….”Whhhhhuuummp! Whhhhhump!” Monstrous bullfrogs seeking out a mate sounded like music to our ears. Our taste buds were salivating thinking about fried frog legs.

David and I stopped the truck at the locked gate on Mr. Landers’ place because we really didn’t have clear permission to be doing what we were planning to do. We sort just decided between the two of us he wouldn’t mind, especially if he didn’t know, if we slipped into his big pond and grabbed a few of those big, old, soul mate searching, “whummping” reptiles. They really are eating. Our walk with marginal headlights and a spring loaded grabber on the end of a hoe handle soon delivered us to the levee of a pond ringed with water hyacinth out to about ten feet.

With lights off we silently eased around the pond, hoping not to encounter the evil Mr. Water Mocassin, until we were within reasonable range of a trophy bullfrog. At this point, the problem we encountered was we had a 6 foot frog grabber pole attached to a 3 foot arm and the prey was about 10 feet out into the pond. The math just didn’t work so we quickly hatched a new plan. A plan that would surely be successful if we just both worked together. Since I had on short pants with a belt, David would hold onto my belt with his right hand and a small tree with his left hand as I leaned out toward the frog. At the right point, I would grab the frog and he’d pull us both back in. We couldn’t miss,…famous last thoughts right? Like the famous last words of most rednecks “Hey guys, watch this!” Well,…seems my best friend, David, had another trick up his sleeve. Likely hatched at this moment to retaliate for me placing a green pine cone underneath the tail of his horse a few weeks earlier and laughing at him while he played rodeo. Just at the he gave me the extra foot to grab the frog, he let go of my belt and I fell headfirst into the water hyacinth in total darkness. I screamed on the way down imagining I was falling right on top of the evil Mr. Water Mocassin. I didn’t and I came right back up only to see David and his headlight running at full speed back to the truck. When I got the truck, he had all the doors locked and was laughing in stitches. I was covered in water weeds and pond muck. To get him to open the door I had to promise not to shoot him or grab his privates with the frog grab.

South Mississippi boys will do the darndest things for amusement,….

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This post was submitted by Carey A. Buckles.