So yesterday after I got done with work, I decided to go fishing. I wasn't having any luck at my usual spot, so I braved the weeds and went farther downstream, hoping that the slower waters would have a better, hungrier stock of fish.
I set up at the first clearing I found and, within a few casts, I got snagged on a rock (totally classic, it happens to me almost every time I go fishing) and had to break my line. I was swearing up a storm. As I looked down to grab the end of my fishing line, I noticed a gigantic frog sitting in the water, not even a foot away from the rock on which I was standing. With all the noise I was making, I couldn't believe that that sucker hadn't leapt off the rock in fear. So naturally, I was a little freaked out, but mostly just curious, because it's been so long since I had seen a live frog this big. It was HUGE--I'm talkin' dang near the size of a shoebox. So I'm eyeing it up as I'm putting another hook and worm on the line and, as I look to my other side, I see that another gigantic frog has emerged from the water to sit next to my rock. At this point, I'm just amazed--it was like being smack dab in the middle of a nature show! I was curious, however, to see how far I could push the frogs before they dove back into the water. So I took my newly hooked worm and dangled it about 3 inches above the back of the frog to my right. Nothing. Had this frog no fear? I plopped the worm right on to its skin. Nothing. Huh.
Interesting, I thought. Maybe it's a female protecting eggs. So I swung my line to my other side, to the other frog. Let's see what happens here, I thought, my inner scientist starting to bloom. So I carefully dangled my writhing worm about 2 inches in front of the face of the other frog. Before I could blink, the frog's iron jaws sprung into action and I screamed as I realized that I was, to the bending protest of my small fishing pole, dangling a five pound frog from my line. After my scream subsided (by the way, other frog--still sitting motionless on my right side) I tried to asses the situation as the monster now hung limp from my line. Was it hooked? Did it swallow the hook? How in God's name was I going to get rid of this thing??? I certainly didn't want to touch it, but I didn't want to just cut the line and leave the death sentence hook in its throat either. I dragged it a little bit farther on to the shore. Its limbs were still limply hanging by its side.
Gathering my courage, I grabbed for my pliers in my tackle box belt. Holding the rod firmly in my left hand, I slowly made my way towards the mouth of the beast, pliers poised to get a good grip on the hook that was just barely protruding from its mouth.
Just as I had steadied my hand for its course, the frog turned ever so slightly to its side. With one eye it stonily gauged my intentions. I couldn't tell if it was feeling threatened or not--but with in the next moment, I had my answer. It exploded from its motionless state and rocketed toward me, an amphibious ball of fury. In terror, I again screamed and in panic, tightened my grip on both my fishing pole and pliers, which left me with little with which to defend myself. Again and again it lunged at me, held at bay only by the length of the fishing line. I held the pole as far from my body as I could, my only defense against this vicious attack. Then, just as suddenly as the attack began, it was over. Showing no signs of fatigue or injury from my hook, the frog sprung from my line, disappearing beneath the rippled river surface. In a daze, my hands shaking, I was left on the shores of the Milwaukee River, the frog on my right my stone still companion and only witness to this outrageous event.
I managed to get a hold of myself and toss in one more time--I caught a little rock bass. After that, I called it a night.
