A frog in the hand…

About every night last week, a determined pack rat built a nest on the engine of our son’s car, and every morning he went out and popped the hood and cleaned it off.

But then one morning he started the car without checking to see if there was a new nest.

The rat hit the fan, so to speak, and didn’t survive. I started to take a picture of what was left of it, but changed my mind (aren't you glad?).

Then it occurred to Richard that he better check the engine of the Banana, which is what we call the big old 1978 Buick that is sort of a back-up car for our son -- it is not yellow and I don't think it looks like a banana, but that is what he calls it and so do we. We have not driven it in a while, which is always a bad thing when one lives in pack rat country..

He went out. He came in.

You better come and see this, he said, there is a frog under the hood.

Indeed there was.

I tried to get it to go onto the maple tree a few feet away from the car,

but it didn’t seem very interested.



So, I turned to the old standby for relocating tree frogs, the fern on the porch.

Which reminds me, the temperatures are starting to drop a bit at night now and  I had better bring them all in the house fairly soon, which reminds me that I will now need to move everything that has been dumped in the spaces where they spend the winter.