Only the Lonely

I am becoming deeply concerned for the future happiness and fulfilment of Eric Rimleaper, my resident (in-convenience) Green Tree Frog.   He has been living with me in my donga for almost a year now.  As a flatmate he is about as easy to live with as anyone I know.  His only faults:

  • sleeping in the flush pipe of the toilet cistern and blocking it – making it difficult, or even impossible, to flush on occasion
  • a bit of raucous singing now and then
  • and the occasional frog turd left in the shower.  Ironic he should do that, considering where he lives.

Nonetheless, what he has to put up with from me while he is resting under the rim does not really compare to those minor inconveniences.  Tolerance is called for.  Even when his singing in the WC drowns out mine in the shower.  The bowl acts like a bullhorn.

On the positive side, he has been growing steadily so I guess he eats regularly.  I have had no cockroaches or upsetting insect surprises while he has been in residence.  He has not, so far as I am aware, tried to move out, though a week or so ago he left the bathroom and for a while I heard him singing from behind the washing machine which, like everything except my bed and the bathroom appurtenances, is in my living/dining/kitchen area.  Yesterday I heard him on top of the refrigerator so I retrieved him and took him back to the bathroom.  I put him on top of the cistern and went to get my iPad for a photo.

I returned just in time to snap a shot before he leapt into the bowl, clambered up the side and ensconced himself once more under the rim.

Eric, about to take the Plunge.
From the beginning of the Wet, Eric has become increasingly vocal, announcing his amorous desires to any lady GTF who may be listening.  My concern for him is that his serenading may be fruitless.  I am doubtful he is likely to have much luck attracting a mate while he is living here.  I am not at all sure there is likely to be any nubile maiden frogs within receiving distance of his calls.  It seems to me the odds are pretty slim of one just  happening to be meandering past at just the right moment.

I could put Eric out of the house with a lunchbox and some aftershave and let him go courting around the community, but there are snakes out there.  Only last week I was called across the road to a neighbour’s house to remove a two metre King Brown.  I was happy when she asked me to come and help.  I had been looking forward to a bit of snake wrangling for some time. A few people in the community have told me they had killed a snake and I had insisted they call me in future so I can catch it and release it far away.  I remind them this is the snakes’ country too.

On receiving a call for help I grabbed my catching gear and headed over the road.   Sadly, I found the serpent dead when I got there.  It had died heroically however, taking out an enormous toxic cane toad, which lay dead beside it.  I had not realised until then that the bloody cane toads have made it this far into the desert as I haven’t seen one out here yet.  I should have known they would be here by now.  I knew they were in Halls Creek two years ago.

With a snake that size around there will be lots more, and plenty of of young ones hatched or about to as well.   And now I know there are cane toads out there too.  It’s not safe out there for the little green fellow.

Eric might be safer remaining here with me even if it means staying celibate a little longer.

The ladies might be safer staying away.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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