I passed a frog on my walk yesterday. He was crossing my path, making his way from the little pond, across the road and toward the lake. It's strange to encounter animals that you're used to seeing only in animation. His slow, deliberate hop was so grandiose, it was like a caricature of a real frog. I guess I thought real frogs were much less dramatic. Perhaps he was an actor frog.
His long legs extended at least a foot launching him into a wet plop on the asphalt as he began his real life game of Frogger. (Lucky for him, it wasn't rush hour.) He seemed to be in no hurry, resting thoughtfully in my path. It makes no sense, but I was nervous as I got close, as I am with all animals despite their size. I know I'm bigger, more threatening, and higher on the food chain, but I don't like taking anything for granted. I want to be ready for any surprise attack or sudden, threatening moves such as whipping out a tiny banjo and singing about rainbows.
I passed him without incident, keeping my 3.3 mph pace. I got a few strides beyond him when I felt that eerie feeling of being watched. By the frog. I whipped around, one hand in karate position, the other securing my phone for a call to 911 if necessary. He pretended to ignore me.