THE FROG INCIDENT
As I look back on this particular event, which we all refer to as the “Froggin Incident,” it all started out pretty innocent. We were on a nice summer Saturday meeting at Doc and Isabel’s house. The people who had come to visit us were enjoying very good music and food and a couple of drinks from time to time with some “Pick Me Up”. On this particular day, Isabel had cooked up a mess of frog legs. I don’t know if it’s the plains people, but as all mountain people know, there’s nothing quite as tasty as a good batch of fried frog legs, and Isabel’s were top notch that afternoon. He puts a lot of mouth tah tahin jes thinking about them even this day.
I can’t remember how old Joe must have been at the time, but he wasn’t that big, he was actually a nubbin underfoot, but God how that boy could get those frog legs down. He’d take them off his plate if he wasn’t watching closely, as if the world’s supply of frogs was rapidly dwindling and he was determined to get his share before they disappeared entirely. Of course they would slap him on the hand from time to time and scold him, but never that badly, because really, who could blame him? As I say, Isabel’s frog legs were considered some of the best in the county.
When the last legs were eaten, young Joe seemed heartbroken. There were still plenty of other good things to nibble on, like hush puppies and sausages, some chicken gizzards and fried fish and such, but in Joe’s mind, nothing else would do. It tasted like iron frog legs and that was it. He put the binge on something fierce until Isabel had all he could catch.
“Joe,” she says, “if you want frog legs, I think you’d better get down to the cow pond next Saturday early before I start cooking, and bring us as many as you think you can eat.” I want you to shut the hell up, and I won’t hear any more about it this day.”
Now looking back, they may not have been the best choice of words for Isabel to use with Joe, because like I said, when Joe had one thing fixed in his mind, he stayed alone, with the right sound. and appropriate. Then, I guess, Joe figured there weren’t enough frogs in the world to satiate his appetite, but he was going to figure out he better find out one way or another.
The week passed and the next Saturday morning arrived as expected. Doc and Isabel had once again told people that they were more than glad to have them, which was nice for everyone. I got there a little early myself to help Doc get some jars out of the still, and to provide quality control before anyone else got there, if you know much.
Usually young Joe was there with his paw, on mornings like this, trying to help out like youngsters do, and usually being more of a hindrance than a help, but we used to be with him. However, this particular Saturday, there was not a single sign that Joe had been found. Doc didn’t seem concerned about the absence of his youngest child. The doctor told me that Joe had been up before first light and had walked out the door to the sound of a rooster crowing.
We know there was no way Joe was going to miss the weekly meeting, so there was no reason to worry, although I did miss the little guy, and I think Doc did too. It was unusual, but not unheard of, ah, for him to embark on some childhood adventure on a Saturday morning and I couldn’t help but wonder what idea the boy had gotten into his head this time. Of course, Doc and I had forgotten what Isabel had done to that young man the week before, but young Joe hadn’t forgotten a thing.
When we got the jars down from the alembic, Isabel had covered the old plank table on the patio with a cloth and had started to put some dishes on it. The other Yakel youths had taken out the old chairs they kept for this purpose and scattered them around the yard for people to relax on. All that was missing was company, and that began to arrive immediately.
I estimate it was about an hour after noon with people talking on the patio. Those with extra large appetites were eating, you guys really included. A bachelor has to take advantage of the good things when he can.
The boys were starting to warm up their instruments when I saw Joe walking into the house, carrying a large burlap bag that seemed to be packed to a size almost as big as Joe. He had a considerable struggle with it, and I could see that it was an open question who controlled whom, but he finally managed to get the whole thing out the side door.
After mulling over the sight for a while, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to mention to Isabel that her little boy had gotten into something, and so I did. She, hearing that the boy had returned, and inside the house no less, entered that house like a fox on the run, knowing Joe as she knew him.
I don’t think more than a minute had passed before the commotion began. The screen door opened and Joe came out, running and screaming like the Unholy Hellion, Isabel’s jaws behind him. Now this in itself was not an unusual sight, and witnesses to the event barely mentioned it for comment, but it hushed things up pretty well. They all wondered what Joe could have done this time that the fire in his jaws flared up so fast.
Now, it so happens that Parson Sheppard, jes’ the week before, had given a sermon on Moses and Pharaoh and the troubles that the Lord poured into Egypt and that caused their evil ways, which, as you may recall, included among other things, a plague of frogs. I can remember hearing at the time that I thought it was a bit of a comical idea, and barely fit as an act, oh Lord, what harm could a mess of frogs do anyway? But when I walked up to the open front door and saw what was inside, well, sir, I quickly realized what kind of trouble Pharaoh had with Moses.
It turned out that Joe had spent all those hours collecting every frog that must have lived in that damn pond. There were big bullfrogs and grannies, and little peepers, and a frog of any size and shape in between. The boy was a very good frog and he showed it that day, but I won’t let Isabel take it into account, at least not at that particular moment.
There must have been hundreds of frogs in that house, hopping around and coming home. I think Joe brought them all to her with his mouth in her natural state for her to cook, and he hadn’t considered that it would be wiser to do the preparatory work before loading them all up.
At any rate, by the time Isabel came in to see what Joe was doing, the bag had proved quite suitable for the boy it was supposed to support, and it slipped away from him, spilling its contents on the floor. Those captive jumpers saw the freedom of the lucky iron and took it away right away. Joe’ took a fatherly look at his mouth’s face, and also concluded that this was his chance to start fast. He brushed past her before the impact wore off, heading for the hills as fast as her legs would carry her. Isabel was a resourceful woman, but the sight of all those frogs scattering all over her house gave Joe a couple of seconds head start before she was able to regain her senses and run after him.
I just praised the Lord that day that I didn’t mention to him that he could have stabbed Joe because he came into the house with his cargo or he could have been right next to Joe skedaddlin down the road with Isabel following a lot of trails like well hickory switch on the hand, and bent on terrible justice. Even now, if she reads this narration here, I think I’m still going to catch a kiss, oh hell, since I don’t think she’s made it through the whole episode today.
By the time Isabel came back, holding Joe by the ear and lecturing him as much as she could, emphasizing a switch, we had tried to round up as many frogs as we could and clean the house, ah! correctproper We had done a job, ah, but the already consumed mountain dew, along with the fits of laughter that gripped us, didn’t help the effort one bit. At that time, those frogs had already been caught once that day and were determined not to let it happen again. I don’t know if we gathered as much as we dispersed, but it was the thought that counted. At least that’s how I saw it, though Isabel and Doc didn’t seem to share the sentiment at all.
Even Doc, who could usually handle just about anything, turned up considerably for a long while. He told me it was weeks before he could lie in his bed and get up at night without wondering if something slimy would be squashed under him. I think frogs underfoot are worse than youngsters, and a squashed frog must be a terrible mess to clean house.
And, of course, there was the problem of those frogs crawling out of passing places to meet their creator. Sir, you couldn’t walk in that house for a long time without an unpleasant smell creeping up on you, which caused Isabel to feel embarrassed.
Poor Joe, I think he got sick every time he found another frog in the house for a week and maybe more. What’s even worse is that Isabel didn’t take kindly to all the good-natured children who crossed her path, and she refused to do frog legs for the rest of the summer. What the hell is going to show women’s irrationality, because when you think about it, how much more convenient could it be for her, with all those frogs hiding right there in her own house? And she told Joe that he could bring as many as she saw fit anyway.
And that’s the big gathering of Juggin Joe frogs still talked about in the hills to this day, but not in Isabel’s presence. Doc’s temper softened over time, and she even saw the humor in it, but maybe not as much as the rest of us.
Joe still loves frog legs, and Isabel went back to making them on occasion, but after that episode, she was very clear in her discussion with Joe about exactly how many frogs she could catch in the pond, and she didn’t leave any. The doubt in someone’s mind that they won’t be brought back to the Jeckel house again.
To learn the rest of this fast-paced story, pick up your copy of “The Legend of Juggin Joe,” ISBN 1-4116-2588-9, at http://www.lulu.com/yakel