Frog! On Windshield! EEK!

What do you do when you’re driving down the highway and a little frog lands on your windshield?

I don’t know. But it happened last week to me when driving home, after dark. All of a sudden there it was.

Was driving home after Christmas shopping (yes, I Christmas shop in August…sales you know.) on a county road when, WHAP, there he (or she) was. It was spread-eagled on my windshield, right in my line of sight. “EEK!” is what I think I said. I may have even asked it a question. “What are you doing!?!” It didn’t answer of course.

What to do? I decided to slow down and look for a stopping place, which are few and far between on county roads. And besides that, the frog was definitely limiting my ability to see a stopping place. The frog didn’t move. It just lay there sort of, little front and back legs stretched straight out, plastered tightly against the glass. And I was only going what Grandson calls my Grandma Speed. That means about 45 miles per hour.

But the slowing seem to encourage little frog to try an escape maneuver. So before I could stop, it flipped itself off my side, and was gone.

I was astonished. Where did it come from? Did it fall out of a tree? Surely little frogs can’t jump that high. I worried about the little frog. Did it escape unscathed? I don’t know how it could have, but I hoped so. I had never had a frog catch a ride on my windshield before. I soon found out I was not the only one who gave a frog a free ride lately.

A coworker related he had the same sort of event just recently. Good grief. What’s going on? Has our Oklahoma summer become so wet that even frogs are trying to jump out of the pond? Co-worker said he saved his frog.

I Googled ‘Frogs on windshields.’ Found one man who was driving down an interstate when a frog landed on his windshield. And he filmed the entire episode. (Don’t ya just love smart phones.) After much cussing, meaning this poor guy didn’t know what to do about a frog on his windshield either, he slowed down, found an exit and pulled off the interstate. He also was greatly concerned over his frog’s welfare.

“Don’t move dude!” man said over, and over, and over.

“We’re slowing down!”

“It’s lips are moving!” (His frog tried to talk.)

 

(Frog climbs into center of windshield.)

“Don’t move dude!”

“GET OVER!”

(Obviously this guy wants to save his frog.)

(Amazing. As vehicle slowed, frog sort of came to its senses and cleaned off its face and both front feet. Maybe it knew it was on camera.)

“We’re slowing down,” man told frog. (Frog didn’t answer him this time.)

(Then frog sort of curled up at bottom of windshield. Man cusses some more.)

“Don’t move!”

(And then his frog was gone.)

“Oh no! It’s dead!”

Well, I thought. Maybe not. Maybe all our frogs survived the ride. And why were we so concerned over the frogs’ welfare anyway? I thought maybe it’s because frogs help us out controlling bugs that bite us, like mosquitoes. Or maybe they are just so ugly they are cute. Or maybe it’s because they are tiny defenseless little critters.

Even if all the above is true, I still believe frogs should learn to stay off our windshields! I don’t have insurance for frog-induced wrecks. Try to explain that to your insurance agent.

The Hummingbird Riot

I caused a riot last weekend.

There seems to be a shortage of that powdered hummingbird nectar that used to be available everywhere. Not this year. Every local store I checked was out of that hummingbird food.

Retailers please note:  The hummingbirds haven’t flown south yet! And I’ve got a yard full of hungry hummers!

The hummingbirds really showed up in my backyard this summer. I’ve tried for years to attract them, not very successfully. This year they’ve showed up in droves. I suspect the few who spent summers with me in the past have returned with their teenage children. Or perhaps they’ve been attracted by the banquet provided. Determined to get those birds to my backyard, I hung out seven (Yes, 7!) hummingbird feeders. Hang the feeders and they will come. 

Yes they did. Bunches of them.

Then the hummingbird nectar disappeared from store shelves. Help!

“Make your own,” Darling Daughter suggested. She does. “Boil the sugar and water for 15 minutes, cool it down, and you’re good to go.”

I responded, “Its 100 degrees outside. I’m not boiling anything! I won’t even turn on the stove.”

So the nectar level in my feeders dropped, and dropped, and dropped. Ever been confronted by an angry, hungry hummingbird? It’s downright scary. One little female filed her complaint with me directly one morning. She flew right in front of my face, hovered there, stared me in the eye, and said, “Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!” That half-ounce bird scared me so bad I ducked and ran.

I ran to every store I knew had the nectar in the past. None there. I drove to Arkansas. I was desperate. Finally found some, but nearly had to fight my way out of the store, while protecting my two packages of hummingbird nectar from other desperate hummingbird lovers. I had grabbed the last two packages of nectar the store had, and was going through the checkout line when the shopper behind me demanded, “Where did you get that!?!”

“In gardening,” I offered.

Shopper complained, “I can’t find any nectar anywhere!”

I grabbed my bag of hummingbird nectar and fled. I feared a nectar riot may erupt if I lingered too long.

Back in the backyard, I cleaned out the feeders and filled them up. That’s when the real riot began.

In case you haven’t noticed, hummingbirds don’t like one another, and are very territorial. That’s really why I have seven feeders, so they can share. It didn’t work. They still fight like, well, like siblings. Those half-ounce feisty little birds fight and feud like family. They attack each other like little miniature World War II fighter planes, darting and dodging all over the place in a dog fight, or maybe we should call it a bird-dog fight.

And they don’t care if you are standing there watching them either. They’ll zoom around you just like, well, like angry hummingbirds. I have visions of tiny hummingbirds flying straight into me and going bird-bill deep, making me look like a hummingbird pin cushion. Of course they are such good flyers that will never happen.

I’ve tried getting photos of these aerial bird fights, but the birds are so fast, even my good camera can’t stop the action. Still, their antics keep me entertained for hours. No sooner did one bird stop in mid-flight to get a sip from a feeder, than it was immediately dived bombed by another.

And the whole time they continue to tell each other what they think. “CHEEP! CHEEP! CHEEP! CHEEP!” I fear that if we could translate hummingbird speech, those cheeps could probably not be published due to being X rated for language.

And the irony was, that after all my fussing and worry, my search for the nectar, and determination to make sure my hummingbirds got to eat, not one of ever got a good meal due to the riot.

But this morning, I noticed the feeders were empty again, so the riot may be over. Or not. I’ll be filling those feeders on Saturday morning, and will be wearing a helmet and flak jacket. Don’t want to be unprotected in the middle of a hummingbird riot.

School Kids Report on First Day

School started this week. I lament, to some degree, that I have no children to send off to school any more. They are all grown now. Oh darn, even the grandkids are grown. There is a passel of great-grandkids, all too young for school yet.

Once upon a time, which doesn’t seem that long ago, August was a busy month. There were school clothes to buy, and sew. School supplies to round up. And kids who had to be retrained to go to bed early so they could get up the next day in time to catch the school bus. But once my kids grew up, those chores ceased. Still, in the years after, August always caused a certain uneasiness. There was something I was supposed to be doing, but I couldn’t remember what. I finally figured out that I was missing the get-ready-for-school chores. Soon those chores will fall to my grandchildren. And yet, I sort of miss them. Kind of.

I’m sure my great-grandkids will have tales to tell when they start school. I love their honesty. So I went looking for things told by kids about their first days of a new school year. Their tales are re-told below. Enjoy.

*A new first-grade student came home and told his mother, “I’m going to wait until I’m in the 12^th grade before I go back. Then I’ll only have one year left!”

*Another first-grade student reported, “Mom, I learned that the teacher is in charge, and I don’t think that’s fair. I think the kids should be in charge.”

*A little boy was asked if he was looking forward to going back to school. He replied, “Yes! I got all kinds of new ways to make my teacher mad.”

*A new kindergarten student asked, “Will my teacher put me in time-out for picking my nose?”

*A kindergarten student told her grandma she was scared, and she was crying. When asked why she said she had been told about homework. “I don’t know how to do homework!!" she said.

*Another indignant new kindergarten student demanded of his parents, “Why did you sign me up for school?” 

*A first-grade student fell asleep in the car on the way home of school. When asked by mom why, she replied, “First grade is really hard.”

*A Head Start student reported on his first day of school. When asked what he’d done he replied, “We ate 3 times, we played 3 times, and went to sleep. I like school!”

*A kindergarten student was asked if he had gotten in trouble on his first day. He replied, “Not really. I did get caught talking when I wasn't supposed to, but I didn't get in trouble for it.”

The boy was asked what he had learned for the next time.

He replied, “Not get caught!”

*At the end of the first day, a fifth-grade student told his mom, “I don’t need to go back. I know enough.”

*A first-grade teacher told a mom her son needed to learn to follow directions. When confronted, the little first-grader responded, “Momma. I don’t know who Reck Shuns is! I CAN’T FOLLOW HIM!”

But my favorite of all is also the most simple, and most heart wrenching.

*A little girl, on her way to her first kindergarten class, asked, “Mommy, can you go with me?”

And the answer, to all my kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, is, “I’ll go with you anywhere.”

Thank You to Those Who Toil and Broil in Southern Summers

Assistant Fire Chief Steve Padgett of Sallisaw was tooling around Sallisaw this week, above, in the Sallisaw Fire Department’s 1950 fire truck. Fire Chief Anthony Armstrong said they call it the “Parade Truck.” He said the Sallisaw High School football team wanted their photo taken with the truck. I take that to mean the football boys hope to put out the fires of their rival teams this year. Go Black Diamonds!

That’s pretty cool. And cool is the object here. Cool is apparently something we are going to have to wait to experience, maybe in September or October. UGH! Yes, this is my annual Summer Heat Rant. I can’t take the heat. I want cool. But this week, with temperatures forecast to be at 100 degrees or higher, cool is something we may only find in a well-air-conditioned work place or home.

Heat knocks me off my feet, literally. I figured this out as a young woman who was living in San Angelo, Texas, with hubby who had been sent there by the U.S. Air Force. This little Indiana farm girl was not prepared for a Texas summer. Truthfully, when I walked outside in Texas in the summer, I fainted. It was downright embarrassing. Open door. Walk outside. Hit the ground. And that’s when I began to hate southern summers. Give me spring! Give me fall! I’ll even take a southern winter, with ice, over a cold northern snow-smacked winter. But save me from a southern summer.

And one day this week I wondered how other southerners survived heat, especially those who protect and serve us. That is our firefighters and police who must toil and broil in our southern heat. Firefighters go out to save our lives and homes from fires, and are required to dress for protection. They gotta wear all that gear – helmets, and boots, and gloves, and heavy coats. Then, they have to run and lug around heavy water hoses and ladders. How do they do that, and not faint!?! Our police officers are in the same protective-clothing boat. They gotta wear those bullet-proof vests, fancy police officer clothing, and a tool belt from which hangs a full set of crime-fighting armament. Ever looked closely at a police officer’s equipment belt? Good grief. Cops haul around everything from hand cuffs to hand guns. My grandma didn’t have that much stuff in her kitchen gadget drawer.

I asked Fire Chief Armstrong, “How do you do that?” He laughed at me. That’s normal.

“Well, you just get used to it,” he said. “You practice.”

Well, I practiced walking out the door into a Texas summer, and it didn’t help me a bit. Just this week one of Sallisaw’s fireman suffered a bit of heat exhaustion at a small house fire. Chief Armstrong assures us our fireman recovered quickly and is going to be fine.

So for him and all our firemen and police officers, let’s give them a round of applause and a pat on the back in this August heat. They deserve thank yous year round, but to do what they do in a southern summer heat wave is, to me at least, way above and beyond the call of duty.

Thank you guys and gals. You are amazing.

Back to that Texas summer, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. So, after spending a horribly hot summer in Texas, the U.S Air Force sent Airman Hubby and me to the most logical place they could think of. Yep, we spent the next winter, and the next three years, in Alaska. And I must report that an Alaskan summer, all 30 days of it, is fantastic.