Henry, the Sierra Nevada Yellow-legged Frog

Poor Henry is croaking outside my window tonight. I was stunned when I heard him earlier today. He's the little frog who took up residence somewhere just outside my window last spring. When we left on our 10 week trip last March I thought the hawk, Mr. Fancy Pants, would surely get him over the summer or a crow, or the gangster cats who live next door and hunt in the Bird Park, aka my backyard. I'm delighted he's still around even though I don't see how it can be a good life for him here.

My question is, how in the world did a frog manage to wind up in this dry corner of nowhere? The Bird Park is on dry desert dirt. Does he live in the covering for the air conditioner? Perhaps he's burrowed out a cozy home under its concrete slab. I just read some types of frogs hibernate. Maybe he's one. That could be nice. All I know is that I nearly stepped on him one day last spring as I stepped outside. One tiny little frog, or toad. I'm not sure which but, after listening to recorded sounds of both online just now, I'd say he's definitely a frog. In fact, after another quick search, I'm almost certain that Henry is a Sierra Nevada Yellow-legged Frog which is an endangered species. Yikes! After another search, I dug up some addresses and emailed several people interested in preserving these fellows. Now what? Now I wait. G'night, Henry. Sweet dreams.

Henry the frog and the gangster cats

At this point, 95% of the Rana sierrae have died off.

To their credit, a couple of the scientists I contacted the other night about Henry the frog immediately wrote back. Of course, both asked for a photo but I don't have one so, for now anyway, that's that. I did see him once last spring. He looked just like the Rana sierrae in the photo and he sure sounds like one. But if he is, he's a ways from home. The Rana sierrae generally live in mountain ponds above 6000 feet but Henry is down here in the valley at 5000 ft. in my desert dirt back yard. And thanks for asking, Roy. If Henry resurfaces, you'll be among the first to know.

The gangster cats have left the building

But I do have some really GREAT NEWS. The gangster cats, scourge of the Bird Park, those furry assholes who ate baby quail like they were popcorn...are GONE. Their family finally finally loaded their crap up and moved away. A repair crew has been over there for the last week gutting and repairing the place. If the broken blinds in the front window and the perpetual mess they had in the front yard and on the porch are any indication, they must have left the house a wreck.

Henry update

I heard from a couple more scientists regarding Henry the frog but without a photo and a recording of his peculiar croaking no one is convinced he's a member of the endangered Rana sierrae and, even if he were, I don't know what they'd do besides add him to the footnotes. One guy from UCSB Life Sciences was pretty dismissive about the whole thing. Why write me at all? I don't think it's good science but that's his problem. Anyway, I heard Henry again today and sadly it seems he's growing weak. I went out again determined, again, to find him but I could not. I would give him a home indoors out of the cold but it looks like it's not to be.

Froggie lullabies

There aren't many benefits to insomnia but last night around 2 AM as I lay awake wondering if the wind was going to blow the tool shed over again, Michigan H. Frog began holding forth against the storm raging down from the Sierra. Little Henry. Damn! Whether or not he's an endangered Sierra Nevada Yellow-Legged Frog is still up for debate but how in the world does any frog make his way to my desert backyard and survive winter? But he did and he is and last night this plucky little fellow's storm watch nocturne put me to sleep. Thanks, Froggie. 

Michigan H. Frog & paper floor update

Even as the days grow colder, Michigan H. Frog, aka Henry, is still alive outside my window croaking. I'm amazed. God, I wish I could find the poor fellow and bring him in. He'd have to live in a terrarium but I'd make it comfy and he'd be warm.

We will be spending a couple of weeks in Oregon with the family. Thea Bella, being three years-old now and quite expert on her balance bike, gets a real bike this year. Amazon already delivered it but M. Lee will put it together when we get there. Mr. Leo, being two, is still working on his balance bike so we have some other new toys and warm duds for him and we have some stylish new threads for Baby Frank. As for the floor, the bedroom is done and looks great. We won't put the room back together until we get back. Then on to another section of the house. This is M. Lee's winter project. In the end, the front room will be an art studio which we will share. It's definitely worth the mess and wait.

Paper floor update. The first room is done and looks great.

Oh, and happy last day of the 13th b'ak'tun.

Babette and Mr. Fancy Pants

I hope their paths never cross!

Lots of action at the Bird Park these days, new arrivals and surprise returnees. Henry the Frog is the newest resident. I've only seen him once but occasionally I hear his strange raspy little voice. He doesn't sound like any frog I've ever heard. And Mr. Fancy Pants is back, unfortunately making things considerably more dangerous. The gangster cats are bad enough but this guy is lethal. I don't begrudge him dropping by for a drink now and then but the other day, at the request of a group of very irate finches, I had to ask him to leave. We all want him to eat somewhere else.

Mr. Fancy Pants

The other big news around here is that Babette, aka (bottom of the barrel) BoB, showed up again. I haven't seen her for a couple of years. Unfortunately, she seems pretty unaware that Mr. Fancy Pants might be watching. She scoots in under the fence from Dick's side and grazes on the seed dropped from the feeders. That area is somewhat protected but she also runs around the yard digging holes and burying seeds as though the Bird Park were still the safe little world it used to be. Scary.

Babette

But for the moment anyway, life is good. She even manages to squeeze into the seed tray generally accessible only to the little birds. Crows, magpies and pigeons have all done their best to plunder that pile of goodies, hanging by one claw while scrambling desperately to grab a seed or two, only to fall gracelessly to the ground. Not Babette.

Doing what squirrels do best.

The crazies

We're getting down  to it, deadlines closing in like walls. So what do I do? As usual. Blog about it. But not for long. I'm currently having my morning coffee so this is permissible. But must finish packing which, at this point, will require either magic or giving something up. I'll be living out of this backpack for the next 2 1/2 months.

Next stop China then Thailand

Plus there's so much still to do here, including hose the spider webs off the house and call the animal shelter. When Dwayne and his wife were unceremoniously whisked off to assisted living, his cat Snooky had to stay behind. The son bought the house, moved in and Snooky was banished to the front porch. She's half crazy without Dwayne looking after her and now Nevada's bitterly cold winter is coming. The neighbor ladies are counting on me to get her into the no-kill shelter which, at the risk of coming off as one of those horrible, buttinski neighbors, I will attempt. The crazy's in the details but we leave in the morning no matter what. Ok. High class problems for sure, except for Snooky. Keep your fingers crossed. So gotta get busy.

PS. Standard packing list (via M. Lee) By comparison, my only pack is the size of her day pack. Crazy huh?

PPS. Henry the Frog is still alive. He sounds really old now but he's croaking outside my window at this moment. The guy must be a wizard.