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Numerous public commenters speak in support of Neill, Potts in BloomfieldThe Bloomfield Board of School Trustees met for their regular monthly meeting last week with a full audience in attendance. The meeting, in fact, was shifted from its typical location of the media center to the cafeteria to accommodate the larger crowd...
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UDWI REMC partners with Mainstream Fiber Networks to expand rural broadband accessAccording to a press release issued April 16, 2024, UDWI REMC and Mainstream Fiber Networks announced their partnership in the largest fiber project for the cooperative’s service territory. As part of the partnership, the release states, Mainstream will focus on establishing broadband connections to unserved and underserved areas within UDWI’s service area, specifically taking a county-wide approach. ...
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Bloomfield holds on for win over Eastern GreeneOn Thursday, Apr. 25, the Bloomfield softball team used a grand slam and a two-run home run to hold off Eastern Greene 7-6. The Lady Cardinals are now 4-5 while Eastern Greene is 4-7. In the top of the first, Eastern Greene senior Bailee Tieman hit a single to score senior Jessica Hovious for the 1-0 lead...
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High-powered offense lifts Miners to two straight winsAfter a 7-6 victory over Evansville Christian on Thursday, the Linton baseball team scored 20 runs against Orleans for their second straight win. The Miners are 5-5 on the year. Against Evansville Christian, a big night from senior Jamison Fields helped propel the Miners as the senior posted three hits and two RBIs on the night...
To gig a frog (more accurately how not to)
Posted Friday, July 17, 2015, at 10:17 PM
My story this week will fall under the misadventure category. June 15 marked the opening of frog season, which unfortunately, fell on a Monday this year. Although Mondays are never an issue for me, with my outdoor lifestyle friendly work schedule, it was an issue for my 8-4 friend JB. So our first foray to the frog ponds would have to wait until five nights later, when our schedules coincided, on a Saturday night. A lot can change in five nights time!
The weekend before, coming back from a trip at the river catfishing, we decided to take a tally of the frogs on my pond. It had been a week or so since the last rain, and with the water level below the weed line, there were 10 "eating size" frogs around the perimeter. Heading back to the house we were confident that the next weekend was going to equal limits of frogs for anyone that joined us.
Then it started to rain, and rain, and rain. Has the rain stopped since June 16? We didn't put too much thought into how the rain would affect our frog gigging attempt. At dusk, on Saturday, JB came over to my house and, along with my youngest son, Ayrton, we made the trek to my pond. All the rain that had fallen over the course of that week had caused the water level to rise so that it was backed up into the weeds. Since frogs primarily reside on the water's edge, and the water's edge was now obscured by foliage, they had become nearly impossible to see! Half an hour of struggling to find a bullfrog, with nothing to show for it, we made the decision to try a new location.
Many years before, as a teenage boy, I had discovered a seemingly magical pond. One where limits of frogs, 25 in case you wondered, could be harvested in less than an hour. A place where the supply seemed to never end. A place I only spoke of in hushed tones for fear that someone else would discover my honey hole. As happens, all to often, the property was sold and my frog mecca was lost to me. Enter my friend JB, The Permission Ringer, as I call him. JB would seem to have a connection with every property owner that we encounter. Upon hearing the story from my youth, JB wasted no time in contacting the land owner, and we were on our way to my froggy paradise.
Arriving at our destination, it quickly became apparent the rains that had filled my ponds to the point of overflowing had a similar effect on our second spot. Instead of being backed into the weeds, as they were at home, the water was up against steep rock banks of a coal pit. Steep banks with briers and fallen trees along the edge. Ayrton was wearing his rubber knee boots, JB his rubber hip waders and I, unprepared as usual, was wearing leather slip on boots. The only saving grace heading into this mess was the deafening roar of frogs emanating from the darkness below. I know what you are thinking... Deafening roar of frogs? Yes, as we descended into the pit the sounds of their courtship songs bouncing off the pit walls was uncomfortable at best.
The excitement mounted and as we turned on the floodlight, to see the sight before us, we were in awe of the sheer number of glimmering frog eyes reflecting back at us. Our attention focused on our quarry and to our chagrin every frog we saw was slightly smaller than what we wanted to harvest. We decided to split up, JB to the opposite bank, and Ayrton and I would walk the near bank. Twenty yards down the bank Ayrton found a "big one." I held the light and he walked over and took the first frog of the season.
Confession time, I'm not an accurate gigger. I miss far more frogs than I get. I love eating them but I'm lousy at harvesting them. Ayrton, on the other hand, seems to be a natural. He rarely misses, and I'm content to watch him revel in his accomplishment.
With the first frog in the bag we continued down the bank in search of our next prize. Obviously, with the sheer numbers of frogs, it didn't take long to find another, and with two in the bag the night was starting to look up. About this time I vaguely hear JB, over the din of frogs, from across the pit, mutter a few choice phrases. It would seem that the thorns had wreaked havoc on his hip boots, and upon entering the water to investigate a frog, he realized they had developed a leak.
100 yards of fighting thorns and fallen trees later, with the battery from my spotlight long expired, and boots filled beyond capacity with pond gunk, we decided to throw in the towel and call it a night. We struggled back up the near vertical face of the pond bank and slogged back to the truck. Upon reaching the truck we assessed the night's total haul. Three frogs for Ayrton, one for me (caught bare handed no less), and zero for JB. Four frogs to show for three hours of sweaty, dirty labor.
Lessons learned: high water makes for difficult frogging. Was it fun? Yes. Would I go again knowing how it would end? Yes. Nights like these make the stellar nights all the sweeter. Nights like these let you appreciate being out there with people who enjoy the moment just as much as you. But you better believe when the rains finally subside, and the water levels recede, that there a few frogs out there with my name on them!
Jon is a staff writer for the Greene County Daily World. He can be reached by telephone at (812) 847-4487, ext. 21. He can also be reached via email at jonpswaby@gmail.com.
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