Not all Frogs are Wealthy Princes
Written By Greg Bergkamp
I became an avid fisherman at a young age. This was a perfect avocation for a youth with virtually no discretionary income. Once the tackle is possessed, little else needs to be purchased. On the farm, we dug our own earth worms, which were the staple bait. Other baits also available for a small effort were crawfish, chicken liver, dissected sun perch, and a homemade cornmeal concoction. The most coveted and cost prohibitive baits were minnows and leopard frogs. Minnows were about a dollar per dozen and leopard frogs could usually be purchased for about twelve cents each when in season.
One summer in the late 1960's, I was sure I found the equivalent of a gold mine. Our pastures contained numerous buffalo holes, which were large puddles of water in the most unlikely places. The holes were about eight feet in diameter, concave in shape, with a maximum water depth of about twelve inches. Folklore has it that these holes were made many years ago when wild buffalo roamed the Kansas plains. By instinct, the buffalo made these holes so that after summer rains, they would have a cool place to wallow in. Naturally, since buffalo no longer frequented the domesticated pastures, the water in these holes remained basically undisturbed except when used by a playful youth like myself.
One day while playing near our farmstead in one of these holes, I notice that it was occupied with tadpoles. At first, I splash water onto the bank and played with the tadpoles that were beached. They were so cute and innocent looking. Then it occurred to me that either these were bull frogs or leopard frogs; either would be valuable. Bull frogs were great to eat and leopard frogs made desirable bait. Because of their light color, I concluded these tadpoles had to be leopard frogs. Bull frog tadpoles would probably be a darker shade of green.
The following Sunday afternoon, I was with Dad and Byron on a fishing excursion. I convinced them it was imperative that we stop at M & M Station, which was a combination gas station, sporting shop, and small grocery store, all under one roof at the corner of the M & M road and the east-west Andale road. The proprietor's name was Toby Roths, who was also a St. Joe parishioner and acquaintance of the family. It was from Toby that I had originally purchased all of my fishing tackle several years earlier. I asked Toby how much he paid for the leopard frogs in his bait shop. He said anywhere from four to five cents each, depending on the quality of the batch. I asked him if he would consider buying his stock from me. He said he would and could use several hundred per week.
For the rest of the day, I could not keep my mind on anything else, not even the fishing at hand. That night, I was restless. I could not wait until the next day to start catching tadpoles. On the following Monday, I built a covered cage out of wood and finely meshed chicken wire to contain the frogs as they went through their transformation. Scrap materials were scarce but that represented little discouragement when I calculated that this venture would yield me $20-25 per week as long as I could find tadpoles.
The cage was large enough to cover a small container of water but not too large to attract unnecessary attention from Mom and Dad. They might try to discourage me from precisely this type of venture. Worse yet, I was afraid they might completely forbid it.
After the small cage was built, I prided myself on my craftsmanship. I would not need this cage until the tadpoles developed legs which were adequate for them to acquire the land-roving facet of their amphibious nature. I built it right away because I did not know how long this transformation would take. The following day, I got out our small seine and went to the first buffalo hole. I had virtually an unlimited supply of tadpoles. Our pasture was spotted generously with many more buffalo holes like the first.
I took my catch from the first hole and placed them all in a large cattle watering tank by the milk barn. I knew this would be adequate for a while. Although the tadpoles had already begun to acquire their rear legs, they would be confined to water for a while longer. The next day, I went to more buffalo holes and put an estimated two thousand tadpoles in the cattle tank. The water was so populous that I refrained from placing anymore in it. I smashed feed grain with a hammer and placed portions in the water daily. Several tadpoles died and floated to the top of the tank each day. I promptly discarded them as casualties of a capitalistic enterprise.
The next week, it was time to start moving the tadpoles from the cattle tank into my covered tank. However, the covered tank could not house nearly all of them. Subsequently, I left most of them in the cattle tank. As the transformation continued, I fed and checked on the tadpoles daily, waiting to see the first sign of spots that give the leopard frog its name. And each day, the spots eluded me. I was becoming distressed. Each additional day that was required for these tadpoles to fully develop into leopard frogs was costing me money. The developed amphibians in the cattle tank started jumping out or dying and I felt helpless. I had no place to properly contain all of them. Because they had not yet developed their spots, I could not sell them. I had to let them go.
Finally, the chain of events in the frog cage and cattle tank brought reality closer until one day, the truth became obvious. These were not leopard frogs at all. They were toads and they were completely worthless.