enodia_ic | Echoes of the Wild; Prologue

FROGWATCH 2023

FROGWATCH WILL COMMENCE TOMORROW, SEPT. 29TH. THIS IS JUST PREPARATION.

INFORMATION & INSTRUCTIONS FOR TOMORROW'S EVENT

Early morning on September 28th, 2023, anyone who signed up reflecting interest in helping with FrogWatch 2023 will receive the following email to their work email address along with a handwritten note with a thank you, a small pack of frog stickers, and a frog sugar cookie to their apartment door. (Also attached with a frog sticker. Don’t worry, they come off and there’s no lingering residue. Whit is absolutely magic.)

Thank you for your interest in helping with FrogWatch 2023! Normally we would conduct this earlier in the year, but with the moles, Persephone, and everything else happening around here, there hasn’t been a good time for it.

Your schedule permitting, please meet us by the lake tomorrow, 09/29 around noon. I will have all the equipment and information that you might need. While you shouldn’t have to get yourselves dirty, I’d recommend wearing anything you don’t mind a little mud on. Just in case!

The frogs have agreed to meet us near the lake. They’ll present themselves to you and convey their numbers however they plan to. If you have trouble making sure they’re giving you accurate numbers, let me know and I’ll translate for you. Don’t let them fight too much, please! Just redirect them to something else and the sooner we’re done, the better. We should try very hard not to disturb their little ecosystem!

I look forward to working with you and greatly appreciate your help!

Best Regards,
E. Finch

THE CONVERSATION
Evan beckons Rye to join her by the water with a wave of her hand as they cross through the grass to a spot with reeds and a few large puddles. It’s here that she sees some poorly laid frog spawn. As she crouches, she digs her fingers into the soft dirt and makes a channel between the tepid water and the lake. With a little encouragement, all of the spawn finds its way–one tadpole after another–they’re a squirming group of future frogs swimming deeper and deeper until they disappear.

She sits back on her haunches and wipes her hands on her pants. “They would’ve died,” she explains to her companion. “One decent day’s sun and there wouldn’t have been enough water for them.”

Rye nods in dawning understanding and agreement. Evan reaches down and scoops a tiny frog from the puddle and into his cupped hands. “It still has a tail.”

They watch the frog swim around until the water drips out of his hands and the frog stops doing a backstroke to hop out of his hands and toward the grass.

There’s a commotion along the shore as a large bullfrog clambers up the small hill from the surface of the water to the grass by their knees. They watch as it snatches several large flying insects from the air before it turns its attention on them.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Evan starts, tossing a hand in Rye’s direction to introduce him. “I know we’re asking for your help at a bad time of the year. But if we do this with a bunch of help, I think it should really only take half a day.”

The frog snaps a dragonfly out of the air and audibly smacks its mouth open and closed as it pushes its food down its throat before fixing its eyes on Rye.

“They normally stare at people like that?” he asks and she gives him a slight shrug.

After what seems like a very, very long time, the frog replies with a series of croaks and squeaks for Rye’s ears and an appeasing answer for Evan. “We will help you because everyone should know how many we are. And we are very many.”

Another frog hops out of the water and lands beside the first. It snaps a buzzing fly out of the air. The first frog spins to look at the other and promptly slaps it with its tongue. They squabble back and forth, snapping each other with their tongues, shoving each other, before the first frog finally returns to the business at hand.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“Well,” she answers, slowly at first. “I have a group of friends that are going to help. If you’ll send representatives from each of your species–”

“What is a species?” the second frog challenges.

As it ponders, it catches another fly and the duo begins to battle again, all but knocking each other over, slamming each other with a head butt or a lashing tongue.

“Sick,” Rye whispers as he throws a glance toward Evan. “They do this all the time?”

Evan sighs and gives him the slightest of nods. She clears her throat before she gently pulls the smaller frog off of the bullfrog and promptly tosses him back into the lake.

“Now that we have your full attention,” she says with a stern tone. “Let’s get back to talking about how you can help us. We want you to send a frog from each type of frog. You’re not all the same.”

“No, we are different.”

“Yes, exactly.” She takes her phone from her back pocket and flips through well over a dozen photos of everyone who has agreed to help with FrogWatch 2023. “This is Rye, he’s my friend. He’s going to help tomorrow, too. You just send out your representatives and have them find one of these people. If they can just give us the total number of frogs, we’ll be able to mark the information for next year.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Truthfully, Evan isn’t sure either. She understands the premise of FrogWatch, but this is more of a thing to help Jack than a major interest of her own. She’s surprised at how many other people want to help. She shrugs and the frog croaks in kind.

“You come to the lake and we will help,” the frog agrees. “We will all like to help.”

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Echoes of the Wild; Prologue

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