One of my favorite things to do when I was a kid was catch the numerous frogs, toads, and snakes that roamed our 11 acre woods. I would store them in buckets and an old plastic swimming pool that we filled with sand and water.
I considered myself quite the frog caretaker and I knew that what I was doing was giving them a better life. Although putting snakes and frogs in the same container may have been a misstep.
One day I was watching a show on pbs. The show was discussing the life of the monarch butterfly and showed a man helping a butterfly migrate in cold weather by cupping it in his hands and gently breathing warm air on it to heat it up enough to fly. This action, I believed, saved that butterfly's life.
I was in the woods exploring on a cool fall day when I found a frog that was alive, but stiff and sluggish in the cold.
I remembered that little nugget of information about the butterfly and I knew that I could apply the same technique to this very frog.
I would be the frog whisperer.
So I cupped my hands oh so gently around this frog and as he lay still, surely in the throes of death, I took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of warm life giving air around him.
And that frog jumped straight into my mouth.
Several years and a lesson about amphibian hibernation later, I bred the second generation of frog
torturer whisperer and have been training him in my backyard.
He caught two yesterday without hurting either one.
I am a proud mama.