Let me preface this by saying I am a science nerd. I still regularly use my microscope.
I don’t mind the flying creatures of the world, either avian or insect. I like all creatures, great and small. (with the exception of mice).
What I don’t like, are humans.
We went camping at my childhood campground. The very same campground we were homeless at one summer when I was little. It’s a place that my adopted brother was memorialized at when he died unexpectedly and where two of my closest friends got married. All of my babies took their first swim in the lake on this same beach.
It’s more family member than campground, so it’s difficult to see it full of garbage people with shitty dogs they don’t clean up after. Change is never easy for me, but when that change comes with bags of trash? I’m even less agreeable.
We began our camping mornings by cleaning up the garbage on the beach. One of the saddest changes over the years. The plastic that washes up each night is more than depressing. The popped balloons still tied to ribbon, the water bottles and their carelessly cast-aside lids, cigarette butts by the billion and the worst offender of all? Plastic shot gun shells. I’m a huge fan of gun control and cleaning up the garbage on the beach only gives me one more fighting point.
I began having an internal rant over the fucking idiots that release balloons. Honestly. What the actual fuck is wrong with those people? The balloons go up into the atmosphere, pop… and become an environmental disaster. They do not go to “heaven”. They are not a pleasant surprise for your dead loved ones. They pop and are trash. These numbskulls are throwing garbage into the sky, en masse. Killing animals and polluting isn’t any more stylish just because you buy your garbage in a rainbow of colors and tie curly ribbon to it. Gross. They need to start ticketing people for it.
I was picking up my umpteenth balloon when I saw him. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now I know better than to get involved. My mother raised me to respect the wildlife and maintain a healthy distance.
But… she also showed us all this cool shit and I am DYING to show the Dumpling, who is quietly skipping rocks down the beach and can’t hear me call her. So I picked him up and put him in the bowl of garbage I’d been cleaning up….
When it promptly threw up 2/3rd of the frog he’d already swallowed. ACK. I couldn’t put it back fast enough…
I ran to get the Dumpling, who took one look, wrinkled up her nose and said:
Q- Ugh. Gross. Get that frog out of there, mama. He’s gonna get eaten.
J- Baby. He’s already dead. He’s a slow dinner.
Q- Like the Instant Pot?
It’s gonna be a minute before I break out the Instant Pot again. Eeek. We went about our day with the slow digestion taking place down the beach and had forgotten about him until we saw the camping neighborhood start to form a crowd to watch. We giggled and took our smores down the beach to see how things were going.
Not well for the frog.
Rest in peace, buddy… thanks for giving your life for this incredible show.