Frogs in the milk
By Tom Brown
Sat, 22 Mar 2014
In great anticipation of exploring the farmyard Freddy and Timmy left the pond for the first time. Excitedly our two buddies were off on their adventure! Hoppity hoppity hop hop hop!
Timmy the smaller was skinny, scrawny. Freddy was sturdy, well built.
Our two excited little friends went happily hoppity happity huppity hoppity happity merrily along and along bounding leaping racing through the meadow's long green grass and lush pasture in thrilling expectation. They chanced on a large shed and courageously hopped closer and hopped right in!
A leap in the dark! Plush! And another! Plosh! Plunging in warm creamy Jersey milk! The young frogs had a bit of fun and a good swim and splish sploshing about but when Freddy tried to jump he saw he couldn't get out. Bonk smack. Tonk dush. Whump spash. The rim was too high and the sides too slippery he couldn't climb out either. Then Timmy tried also but fell back each time plush plash plock plosh with even less success. They tried and tried but no, Freddy and Timmy were hopelessly stuck in a large zinc dairy bucket.
It was clear no-one would save them Freddy was getting more and more desperate. Paddling and plashing he thought of how a great hero frog he'd always been and now the inevitable.
In school he was always first in class he was the cleverest tadpole of them all. He always was the fastest and strongest froglet in his age group and yes, even how very handsome. He excelled in sport he swam like a fish, he held the pond long leap record and voted most promising young athlete three years in a row and how many other achievements. He had such great potential. Every test he'd passed with flying colours.
Yes Freddy even sang in the choir. A fly he hit at arm's length and never missed not once. Always was he praised and all the water people expected he would be king of the pond one day.
This was useless. Adventure what? Freddy felt so terribly sorry he wished he had stayed at home where everything is warm and snug and safe and now he's drowning in milk!
Weakly paddling on he told Timmy of how all his heroic deeds were in vain because there was no way out. It was starting to get cold and he was tired. Simple logic said it was not possible to escape, he was alive without hope. They could not be saved they were doomed and really why? Timmy said no he'd rather hang on for a while.
So saving himself unnecessary suffering and torture Freddy went sinking into the milk and what a miserable end. Freddy just gave up and drowned with a bubble-bubble blub blub.
Timmy kept on there was a winney, a cow moo and an ewe bleat on the quiet farmyard. He thought he could hear his brothers and sisters in the dam, he longed for his family. A cricket chittered. It felt colder now he felt miserable he missed his little friend Freddy. Timmy was on his own now.
Late that evening the farm grew still. Now he could hear his friends by the dam singing, his sisters and brothers his aunts and uncles and toads croaking in the moonlight, croak-croak croak croaking and blip blip bleep bleep bleep blip blip bleeep bleeep in concert his sisters and brothers.
How he longed for his small jade and olive striped princess, her silvery song and sing. His little girlfriend his own sweet little Mirabelle his only darling princess of hope, the happiness that was to come and all their hundreds of tadpoles. Oh what joy for a summer's day! Timmy could see his family play and swim and dive and jump all day in the quiet pool in the old willow's shade with his little wife in his arms and hand in hand. The stream gushing over rocks gurgling sparkling between the big stones, little crabs tiny fish in the stream, small pieces of bark and twigs drifting along and turf and branches in the sunlight. There with all colour dragonflies and bees zum-zum zoom for flowers for honey through the grass and reeds.
Weary drained suffering he was sustained by courage and the tough trampling endured. Still there was no sign of help.
Deep in the night he heard only a desolate owl's eerie whoo whoo toowhit - toowhoo. A mourning dove forlornly cried coo coo-coo coo-coo cooo and kurr-kurr ku-ru-kuukuu kuurrr called a lone turtle dove. Yet the poor little frog couldn't see the moon. A door was banging open and closed outside and a window ratat-rattled in the wind.
Timmy remembered and how he misses and longed for his little girlfriend the sweet Mirabelle. She would be waiting by the mossy rock, by the the lilies and their floating leaves near the riverbank. Oh sweet Mirabelle would be up alone fretting and worrying all through the long cold scary night. He could hear the lonesome rustling of wind through willow leaves and the breeze rushing in the reeds.
The going got heavy and the effort harder and harder. Timmy was drowsy and sleepy but doggedly hard trudging and trudging steadily on and on it helped keep him warm he joked, in the pail now shivering cold. He didn't think on how desperate his situation was he thought of air and breath.
In the dark our little friend so afraid and alone just kept bravely churning on.
Farmer Brown at the crack of dawn and a rooster's crow stomped into the dairy his work boots on. Annoyed he found that his men yesterday had left behind a pail of milk. To his surprise he discovered one dead frog in the pail.
Farmer Brown puzzled shook his head and with a mutter,
Little Tommy Tucker
Sings for his supper ;
What shall we give him?
White bread and butter.