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When the grandsons come over to Grandpa and Nanna's house, they can count on something exciting happening. Last week, Zane came to spend the day during the week while his parents worked. I had to go to work also which left he and Nanna to entertain themselves. That is not a problem. The two of them can always find something to keep from getting bored. Zane's first idea was to go frog hunting. My wife was not able to think of a good reason to not go frogging, so the plan was put in motion.

The two of them set off on the lake in the paddle boat. The boat has to stay outside of the moss that rings the lake, but still be close enough to snag an unsuspecting frog. This in itself presents several challenges. If a person gets too close to shore, the paddle of the boat gets tangled in weeds and moss, making it completely inoperable. One of the two occupants then has to jump out, wade in the mud, and pull the weeds out of the paddle. This leaves one hunter coated in mud and while the other hunter remains high and dry. Boys do not mind being filthy and wet nearly as much as grandmothers, so Zane got the job of bailing out and fixing their problem of propulsion.

When I got home, the story I heard was that Zane caught eight frogs and Nanna got two. I did not see any in the refrigerator so I was beginning to doubt if any were caught. It seemed more likely one or both of them were covered with mud from head to toe, gave up on the frogs, and went to the house to clean up. My doubts were apparently unfounded as Zane talked his brother and Dad into going frogging bright and early Saturday morning. They had even more success than he and Nanna did the day before. They came back with enough for a nice meal of fried frog legs.[[In-content Ad]]

Sunday morning, my wife and I were drinking coffee on the front porch when the boys showed up. Zane was ready to go frog hunting. Trevor was ready to go fishing. I was doing quite well, enjoying the scenery and some peaceful conversation. They were bickering about what to do when my wife suggested they do both. The two of them could take the paddle boat with Trevor fishing out one side away from shore and Zane could catch frogs on the side nearer the weed bank. I am thankful for the wisdom of grandmothers since I wanted no part of either endeavor at that time of day. Drinking coffee was as ambitious as I wanted to get. The boys ran down to the lake, grabbing their equipment on the way, and happily paddled away from the dock. My wife and I could watch them but more importantly, we could enjoy our quiet morning.

An eagle flew in and landed in the snag of an old cottonwood tree that still stands guard in the lake. It fished from its lofty perch while the boys went off toward the island. The trumpeter swans made their morning flight, keeping in shape for the long trip they will make in a few months. Deer came to the water's edge for a morning drink, in spite of the boys talking and paddling a few hundred yards away.

By the time the grandsons returned to shore, my wife and I were both more ready to take on the day. We had our limit of coffee. Trevor had caught several fish and Zane was well on his way to filling another limit of frogs.

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