THE FROG INCIDENT

As I remember this particular event, which we all refer to as the “Froggin Incident,” it all started off innocent enough. We were on a nice summer Saturday meeting at Doc and Isabel’s house. The people who had come to visit us were enjoying very good music and food and a couple of drinks from time to time with some “Pick Me Up”. On this particular day, Isabel had cooked up a mess of frog legs. I don’t know about the plainsmen, but as all mountain dwellers know, there’s nothing quite as tasty as a good batch of fried frog legs, and Isabel’s were first class that afternoon. It puts a lot of mouth tah tahin jes thinking about them even to this day.

I can’t remember how old Joe must have been at the time, but he wasn’t that big, he was actually a nubbin underfoot, but gosh how could that kid get those frog legs down. He’d take them off his plate if he wasn’t watching closely, as if the world’s supply of frogs was rapidly dwindling and he was determined to get his share before they disappeared completely. Sure he would get slapped on the hand from time to time and scolded, but never that bad, because really, who could blame him? As I say, Isabel’s frog legs were considered some of the best in the county.

When the last legs were eaten, young Joe seemed heartbroken. There were still plenty of other good things to snack on, like hush puppies and sausages, some chicken gizzards and fried fish and such, but in Joe’s mind, nothing else would do. It tasted like iron frog legs and that was it. He turned the binge into something ferocious until Isabel had all he could catch.
“Joe,” she says, “if you want frog legs, I think you’d better hit the cow pond early next Saturday before I start cooking, and bring us as many as you think you can eat.” , I want you to shut the fuck up, and I won’t hear any more about it this day.”

Now, looking back, they may not have been the best choice of words for Isabel to use with Joe, because as I’ve already said, when Joe had a fixed idea in his mind, it would lodge itself, with the right sound. and appropriate. Then, I suppose, Joe thought there weren’t enough frogs in the world to satisfy his appetite, but he was going to find out that it’s better to find out one way or another.

The week passed and the next Saturday morning arrived as expected. Doc and Isabel had once again told people that they were more than happy to have them, which was nice to everyone. I was a little early myself to help Doc get some jugs out of the still, and to provide a quality check before anyone else got there, if you get much of your drift.

Usually young Joe was there with his paw, on mornings like this, trying to help as young men do, and generally being more of a hindrance than a help, but we used to be with him. However, on this particular Saturday, there was not a single sign of Joe being found. Doc didn’t seem concerned by the absence of his youngest son. The doctor told me that Joe was up before first light in the morning and was out the door at the sound of a rooster crowing.

We know there was no way Joe was going to miss the weekly meeting, so no reason to worry, although I did miss the little guy, and I think Doc did too. It was unusual, but not unheard of, ah, for him to embark on some childish adventure on a Saturday morning, and I couldn’t help but wonder what idea the boy had gotten into his head this time. Of course Doc and I had forgotten what Isabel had done to that young man the week before, but young Joe had forgotten nothing.

When we took the jars down from the alembic, Isabel had covered the old plank table in the patio with a cloth and had begun to put some junk on it. The other Yakel youths had taken out the old chairs they kept for this purpose and spread them around the patio for people to relax. All that was missing was companionship, and that started coming immediately.
I estimate it was about an hour after noon with people talking on the patio. Those with extra large appetites were eating, you really included. A bachelor has to take advantage of the good things when he can.

The boys were just starting to warm up their instruments when I saw Joe coming into the house, carrying a large burlap bag that seemed to be filled to almost as big as Joe. He had quite a struggle with it, and I could see it was an open question who was controlling whom, but he finally managed to get the whole thing in the side door.

After pondering the sight for a while, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to mention to Isabel that her youngest son had been up to something, and so I did. When she found out that the boy had returned, and inside the house no less, she entered that house like a fox on the run, knowing Joe as she knew him.

I don’t think it was more than a minute before the commotion started. The screen door opened and Joe came out, running and screaming like the Unholy Hellion, Isabel’s jaws behind him. Now this in and of itself was not an unusual sight, and witnesses to the event barely brought it up for comment, but it hushed things up pretty nicely. They all wondered what Joe could have done this time to make the fire in his jaws burn so fast.

Now it just so happens that Parson Sheppard, jes’ the week before, had given a sermon on Moses and Pharaoh and the troubles the Lord poured out on Egypt and caused their evil ways, which, you’ll remember, included among other things, a plague of frogs I can remember hearing at the time I thought it was a bit of a comical idea, and it barely fit as an act, oh Lord, what harm could a mess of frogs do anyway? But when I walked up to the open front door and saw what was inside, well, sir, I quickly realized what kind of trouble Pharaoh was having with Moses.

It turned out that Joe had spent all those hours collecting every frog that must have lived in that damn pond. There were big and granny bullfrogs, and little peepers, and a frog of every size and shape in between. The boy was a very good frog and he showed it that day, but I don’t allow Isabel to have taken it into account, at least not at that particular moment.

There must have been hundreds of frogs in that house, hopping around and coming home. I think Joe brought them all in his mouth in her natural state for her to cook, and he hadn’t considered it wiser to do the prep work before loading them all.

At any rate, by the time Isabel entered to see what Joe was up to, the bag had proved quite suitable for the boy she was to keep, and it slipped out, spilling its contents on the floor. Those captive jumpers saw the freedom of the lucky iron and took it away at once. Joe’ took a paternal look at the face of his mouth, and also concluded that this was his chance to start fast. He brushed past her before the shock wore off, heading for the hills as fast as her legs would carry him. Isabel was a witty woman, but the sight of all those frogs scattering all over her house gave Joe a couple of seconds head start before she could regain her senses and run after him.

I just praised the Lord that day that I didn’t mention to him that he might have stabbed Joe because he went into the house with his cargo or he might have been right next to joe skedaddlin down the road with Isabel following a lot of trails like well hickory switch on the hand, and engaged in terrible justice. Even now, if she reads this narrative here, I think I’m still going to catch a kiss, oh heck, as I don’t think she’s over the whole episode to this day.

When Isabel came back, holding Joe by the ear and lecturing him as much as she could, with emphasis on a switch, we had tried to round up as many frogs as we could and clean the house, oh! rightright We’d done a job, ah, but the already-consumed mountain dew, along with fits of engrossing laughter, weren’t helping the effort one bit. At that time, those frogs had already been caught once that day and they were determined not to let it happen again. I don’t know if we gathered as much as we scattered, but it was the thought that counted. At least that’s how I saw it, though Isabel and Doc didn’t seem to share the sentiment at all.

Even Doc, who could usually handle just about anything, fired up considerably for a while. He told me it was weeks before he could lie in his bed and get up at night without wondering if something slimy would be squashed under him. I think frogs underfoot are worse than young, and a squashed frog must be a terrible mess to clean the house.

And, of course, there was the problem with those frogs that crawled out of the way to meet their creator. Sir, you couldn’t walk in that house for a long time without some nasty smell creeping up on you, causing Isabel to feel embarrassed.

Poor Joe, I think he got sick every time he found another frog in the house for a week and maybe longer. What’s even worse is that Isabel didn’t take kindly to all the kind children who crossed her path, and she refused to do frog legs for the rest of the summer. What jes’ is going to show the irrationality of women, because when you think about it, how much more convenient could it be for her, with all those frogs hiding right there in her own house? And she told Joe that he could bring as many as she saw fit anyway.

And that’s the great Juggin Joe frog meeting that’s still talked about in the hills to this day, just not in Isabel’s presence. Doc’s temper softened over time, and he even saw the humor in it, but maybe not as much as the rest of us.

Joe still loves frog legs, and Isabel returned to making them on occasion, but after that episode, she was very clear in her discussion with Joe about exactly how many frogs she could catch in the pond, and she didn’t leave any. The doubt in someone’s mind that they won’t be brought back to the Jeckel house again.

For the rest of this fast-paced story, grab your copy of “The Legend of Juggin Joe,” ISBN 1-4116-2588-9, at http://www.lulu.com/yakel