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Often, I feel rather like a kid while chasing a frog or butterfly to get a good picture. I did much the same thing when I was 9 years old and I’ve been doing it ever since.

Two of my little nephews reminded me of just how lucky I am last week when we all went to Goose Island to explore for turtles and other critters.

Connor and Cole are 10- and 8-year-old sons of my sister Linda and her hubby Dave Losen. In many ways, they are a lot like my brother Steve and I were at that same age. Connor, like I was, is the older and more measured of the two while Cole has the curly hair and rambunctious drive that Steve possessed.

And they both love critters. We had barely arrived on the island when I shouted to the crew, “Turtle alert!” When I stopped, my son Pete tried to corral the kids as they eagerly rescued the big map turtle in the middle of Highway GI.

As they admired her on the side of he road, they soon asked what those black wiggly things were on her shell.

“Leeches,” I said, and I explained what they were doing there. Connor and Cole then quickly became amateur veterinarians and began removing the leeches one by one.

We found another map turtle near the campground, and they again carried her to a safer place. As we toured the island, the boys counted turtles sunning themselves on logs in addition to those rescued from the roads and scored a grand total of 17 turtles for the day.

The glory of seeing all those live turtles was diminished somewhat as we hiked through a cloud of mosquitoes on a trail in the southeast end of the island. In the sandy soil, we discovered many turtle nests that had been raided for their eggs, probably by raccoons or possums.

Hundreds of young reptilian lives had obviously been cut short before they even had a chance to begin. We figured out though, that it must work out somehow because there are always enough turtles around to lay more eggs the next year. And Connor and Cole saw 17 of them with their own eyes.

The great frog debate

We stopped near the artesian well on the north end of Goose Island Park, and the kids each took a net with them to explore the area. Cole quickly netted a feisty leopard frog, but it jumped from his grip. He soon caught it again and we put the frog into a small plastic cage so I could photograph it later.

That was the plan anyway. Later, near another artesian well where we had hiked in, we spotted another leopard frog, a real beauty. Both Connor and Cole looked at it in awe as it sat in the moist grass. One problem cropped up though; there was only one net and Cole had it.

“It’s my turn,” said Connor. “You caught the first one.”

“Be quiet, or you’ll scare him away,” said Cole, totally ignoring centuries of frog catching protocol.

“But it’s my turn,” repeated Connor as he grabbed at the net.

Cole fought back and the net waved back and forth in the air as the argument rose in both volume and ferocity. Meanwhile, the frog hopped casually into the high weeds and disappeared. The two noisy frog hunters froze in mid-riot and gazed at the empty spot where their frog had been.

In less than a second, a new argument began about whose fault it was that the frog escaped. In spite of pleading and referee attempts by Pete and me, the debate went on ... and on.

When Connor got back to the car, he was momentarily distracted by the fact that the original frog had escaped. After a hectic chase through my car, he caught and lost the frog three times before heroically getting it back into the cage.

I thought I could break the impasse by announcing that the frog had certainly earned its freedom with several noble escape attempts and we should release it where we caught it. The grins on their faces made me think that I had cleverly resolved the situation ... but nooooo!

The debate simply shifted again as they began to argue over who should let the frog go.

“You got to catch it first,” said Connor, “so I should get to let it go.”

“No,” said Cole, “I caught it and that’s exactly why I should let it go.”

“Well I caught it three times when it got away in Uncle Jim’s car,” countered Connor. “You only caught it twice.”

Pete and I were both about ready to leap out of the car ourselves by that time but the debate raged on in spite of suggestions of compromise, coin flips, etc.

Back at the artesian well, the fulminating frog debate surged towards an innocent picnicker who had unwittingly settled on the site of the capture.

Pete and I tried to herd the tumult in another direction, but we failed. My last impression of the whole scene was seeing the poor guy standing in a daze as Connor and Cole swirled about him tugging at the cage. Finally the frog leaped desperately past all of them and shot into the water.

A little later, with the frog safely home again and with five very cute baby ground squirrels rustling around us, all seemed to be forgotten and both kids were excited and happy again. But if my nephews are as much like my brother and me as I suspect, the great frog debate could still be a matter of lively discussion when Connor and Cole finally reach our ripe old age.

Ahh, it’s great to be a kid!

Whatditiz

Leeches are annelids, in the same family as earthworms.

Contact Jim Solberg at 608-782-2560 or nitefrogger@charter.net