“Quick! Come on! Lets’s go get the nets!” Stacey yelled to me from the kitchen.

I followed her out the door as she skipped away down the brick path that led to the garage. We gathered up all of the nets we could find and each of us grabbed a bucket.

“You guys ready to catch go some frogs?” asked my dad as he walked in the garage.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” we cried out excitedly, “Where are Stan and Louise?”
“They’re just putting their shoes on. They’ll be out in a minute,” he said.

A moment later my other two siblings came into the garage.

“Did you get the nets? Can we go?” Louise asked anxiously.

“Yeah! Come on! Let’s go!” I said.

The five of us headed out of the garage and walked up the gravel driveway towards the road. When we reached the top we turned down the dirt path and wandered toward the “Frog Pond” as we liked to call it. Catching frogs was one of our favorite things to do in the summer. My dad would take us to the pond down the road from our grandparent’s cottage often to give them and my mom a break from watching the four of us kids.

Today was just like any other hot July day as we skipped and ran excitedly down the road. When we rounded the last bend, the Frog Pond came into view.

“We’re here!” I yelled, and we all took off running toward the pond. My dad followed right behind us, smiling at our excitement.

When we reached the pond we instantly started running up and down its mucky shoreline looking for frogs, crayfish, minos, butterflies or whatever other little critters we could find. We watched with fascination as turtles would surface at the center of the pond to take a breath, and then would run shrieking when the neighbors dog would run towards us barking. We spent hours at the pond and played endless games of hide and seek in the bushes, chasing each other around when we were found, filling the air with high pitched squeals of laughter.

Eventually, it was time to head home, dinner would be ready soon. We were gathering up our nets and buckets when we heard my brother yell from across the pond, “Guys! Come quick! It’s huge!”

We all ran over to see what he had, and when we reached him we all gasped. For there in front of us, sitting in the mud at the edge of the pond was the biggest frog any of us had ever seen in our entire lives.

“Whoa,” Stacey said slowly.

We all stared at it, not knowing what to do next. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slow but steady movement. I looked to see Stan slowly stretching out his arm grasping a net towards the frog. I opened my mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and kept quiet, not wanting to scare the frog away. The seconds seemed to linger on. The net inched slowly closer to the frog that sat completely unaware. Then, in an instant, the net swooped down, splashing in the water and covering the frog.

“I got it!” Stan exclaimed.

The frog jumped and squirmed in the net trying to get out as we jumped and clapped in the tall grass on the shore, overjoyed about the catch.

“Hurry! Get me a bucket!” Stan said

We looked around anxiously, but soon realized that we had gotten so caught up in the moment that we had left all of the buckets on the other side of the pond. My sisters and I ran like crazy around the pond to retrieve the buckets. We reached the pile of buckets, and each grabbing one turned and ran back towards Stan even faster than we had come.

“We got them,” Louise said, out of breath.

I set my bucket down beside the net, which still held the frog. Stan with utter concentration held the net closed with his free hand and then lifted it out of the mud and quickly placed the frog into the bucket.

Once the frog was safe and secure inside the bucket, we started home, anxious to show off our prize catch. We walked hurriedly the entire way back down the dirt road and when we reached the fish mailbox that marked our house we full out ran down the hill to our house. Louise went quickly inside to find our mom, and returned in seconds dragging her by the hand.

“Mom!” Stan said, “We caught the biggest frog ever!”

“Wow!” she said looking at the frog in our bucket, “that is really big!”

“Do you want to hold it, Mom?” Stan asked, beaming with pride over the frog in his bucket.

“Umm, why don’t we just keep it in the bucket?” she said, looking a little squeamish.

“Ok,” Stan said, perplexed as to how she could refuse such an offer.

We then went into the garage to raid my grandpa’s tool box. It was time to build our frog a home. A bit of drilling, twist ties, mesh wire, and plywood later, our frog had a top quality habitat to live in. He was named Big Frog, and we soon found a smaller frog to be a companion for him because we feared he might become lonely in his new home.

We enjoyed Big Frog and Little Frog, the name given his smaller companion, for the rest of the afternoon and evening. We were soon convinced by our parents, however, that they should go back to their own home to spend the night. So, we took Big Frog and Little Frog and let them go back into the pond, but they still remain legends to this day.