Are you ready for a ribbiting bullfrog story? Traditional frogging is carried out with a three-pronged spear called a frog gig. My dad and I employed a more sporting and humane version. We were kinder, gentler sportsmen. Dad and I would quietly slip into our flat-bottom aluminum boat at night. Bullfrogs would be sitting along the bank of the pond or lake, facing the water. I was the light guy, skillfully operating the high-powered flashlight. Once in the boat, we began to scope out the shoreline with the bright light, stopping when I discovered an unsuspecting croaker. My job was to keep the light in their eyes, temporarily blinding them, while we eased the boat closer and closer until… smack! Dad quickly grabbed the frog’s back. The frogs we grabbed were seriously blessed amphibians, since we did not eat frog legs. As a result, the big green hoppers were the beneficiaries of our catch-and-release policy. Dad and I were a team. I did the light work—pardon the pun—and Dad did the heavy work. My role seemed less important than his, but he could not have done what he did without me. We worked together; neither of us could have pulled off the frog-grabbing gig alone. You or I may have dreams which will never come to fruition if we pursue them alone. God likes it when His kids work together. Teamwork is a good thing.
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