MississippiWild would like to introduce to you Frogbottom. Frogbottom, gender unknown, was so named because the first view my parents ever had of him was, well, the bottom.  They’d recently lost a precious friend, Handsome Harry, their long-haired black cat.  Harry was a fine fellow.  He kept them company, falling at their feet at every step they made through the house to request that his belly be rubbed.  Harry, though, had a thing for some of the women around, and on Valentine’s Day of 2007, Harry left to meet his valentine and never returned.  Multiple efforts to locate him through local shelters, veterinarian’s offices, flyers and the local newspaper’s “Lost and Found” ads failed.  My parents resigned themselves to the fact that Harry was gone.  They missed him terribly.

        A few weeks after Harry had gone missing, they returned one evening after a trip about town, walking into the kitchen to close the blinds left open earlier in the day.  The dusk-to-dawn light installed at the back door was on and, lo and behold, there stuck to the glass by the dining table was an ever-so-tiny visitor.  His underside was all that was visible.  It was a light baby-pink color.  After carefully moving towards the window, trying not to scare him off, they checked him out from the side: about an inch and a half long, almost translucent green head and back with a tiny yellow stripe near his eye.  As you may’ve guessed by now, a little tree frog had answered the invitation to dine at the light.  Bugs by the dozen drawn to the back light were irresistible to him.  My mom and dad watched as he patiently waited for his next meal to get just a bit too close to him.  Tiny little toe pads, perfect for hanging on a slick surface like glass, allowed him to dart across at lightning speed to catch an errant moth.  They truly enjoyed watching him through that evening.

        The next night, as darkness fell and the light came on, Frogbottom appeared again, patiently waiting for his bugs.  For weeks, every night, he was dependable to be in his spot.  So much so, that they began to look forward to his visits.  Periodically, he would tire of hanging on the glass and move to a large round thermometer attached to the glass.  This allowed him to stretch his legs a bit and relax.  He seemed to take no notice of the peering eyes through the window.  Depending on the location he chose to rest on the thermometer, they would deem that “there’s a Frogbottom at 20 degrees” or “there’s a Frogbottom at 40 degrees”.

        A steady diet of bugs had left Frogbottom borderline obese.  Before too long, he must’ve spread the word about the feast available.  Anotherbottom appeared, and shortly after that, an even smaller Bottom appeared.  Babybottom was so named to distinguish him from Frogbottom and Anotherbottom. This newest visitor was a bit more shy, but not deterred enough to stop making the trip with his friends every evening.  Nights passed and the three became four.  My parents had thought that Babybottom was small, until the next fellow appeared.  This one was even smaller than Babybottom.  A name change was in order.  Babybottom became “Knee baby Bottom”.  (“Knee baby” is an old southern term for the 2^nd to youngest child.  It comes from the idea that when a new baby arrives, the next oldest child is about the height of the parents’ knees - often the case in years past when there were large families in the South.)  The new Babybottom was truly the smallest they had seen.  He was about the size of a June Bug and could easily sit on a dime.  When he first arrived, he looked a little like a fledgling bird - big eyes and a very wide mouth, and so shy that they had to be careful not to approach the window too quickly or he’d disappear.

        My parents looked forward to the visits every night.  As time passed, the Other Bottoms appeared. The Other Bottoms were so named because they appeared about the same time, are all about the same size and are several in number.  That makes it really difficult to tell who’s who.  On a recent evening, six of them could be found at various locations on the kitchen window and back door.  They have been joined by a couple of other friends, two American toads - one large and one small.  The tree frogs work the “upper story” and the toads the “lower story”.

        Though they thoroughly enjoy the visits, they try not to disturb these little creatures.  Try as they might, chance meetings have occurred.  On one occasion, my mom walked out back and accidentally brushed against one of the Other Bottoms who promptly jumped sky high, bouncing off her arm and onto her robe.  Who was more frightened by the encounter is still up for debate.   Another incident involved a daytime spotting of Babybottom by my dad.  He walked outside and saw Babybottom attached to the upper corner of the back door.  He was motionless even as two love bugs (do you ever see just ONE love bug?) crawled across his back.  My dad, fearing that Babybottom was sick, gently touched his back.  Immediately, he came to life springing about 4 feet into the air.  Apparently, he was just fine.

        My mom and dad have enjoyed their visitors who they’ve discovered spend their days sleeping in a plastic patio storage box on the back porch.  Fall is coming, though, and they expect all the Bottoms will move to a spot to hibernate until next spring.  Until then, these little creatures have brought hours of pleasure to them every evening when the porch light comes on.

        


        Winter doesn’t mean an absence of wildlife in the neighborhoods around Ocean Springs, though.  At any time of the year, raccoons can be seen zigzagging across the road from driveway to driveway looking for dinner.   The raccoons aren’t alone. 

        In the middle of the night about two years ago, we were sound asleep when a sound unlike any we’d ever heard caused us to bolt from the bed to the window.  It truly sounded like a scream, and we expected to see an assault going on outside our front door.  With hearts racing, we scanned the darkness looking for the source.  Finally we saw him, screaming at…our cat, Bob.  “He” was a red fox. Our guess is that Mr. Fox had been making his rounds looking for a meal when Bob, our 14-year old half-tailed black cat, had been let outside to take care of some necessary business.  Bob didn’t seem to be threatened at all.  In fact, he seemed annoyed as he listened to the deafening scream of the puffy-tailed canine.  Bob had seen all types of dogs, but nothing like this.  Since then, we have often heard our resident fox in the night, usually screaming, if Bob happens to have appeared on the scene.  These days we hop up, anxiously looking out the window to see him.  I talked with a longtime resident who said he’d seen many foxes here over the years, but never had he heard them scream.  Perhaps not, but perhaps that's because they never encountered Bob.