A Field Trip to a Pond

“Do you think it’ll turn into a prince if I kiss it?” queried Merry. “Even if I knew it would, I still wouldn’t kiss it,” responded Renko. “I wouldn’t give up my dignity for wealth.” The twins were once again playing outside, using their favourite code-names and considering it to be quite the adventure. “But Renko,” Merry interjected, “it’s Valentine’s day!” “Oh. Does that mean if we give the frog chocolate, it’ll have to give us some on White Day?” “Well, naturally. Frogs aren’t exempt from the laws of society.” “Yes they are. I don’t know about you, Merry, but if I were to hop around in a pond covered in slime, I right well think I’d be outcast from society.” “I suppose you’re right. Besides, even if we did make chocolate, I’d rather we eat it today, than to try to exchange it for chocolate a frog will make in a month.”

“Well then,” Renko wondered out loud, “what do we do with the frog?” “We give him a name.” “What kind of a name?” “You know, a frog sort of name. The type of name that would befit a prince who leaps around in swampy marshes and children’s backyards.” “We haven’t definitely worked out that he’s a prince, Merry. That’s just an assumption.” “I suppose you’re right. We know on the whole very little about the frog’s personal life, and so it would be rather ridiculous to think we could name him after having just met him.” “Well, what will we do, then?” “Why don’t we just ask him what name he already has?” “Because he is a frog, Merry. He doesn’t speak English.” “Does he speak Japanese?” “I highly doubt it. I’ve never known a kaeru to speak Japanese, or English.” “A what?” “A frog.”

“Excuse me, children,” spoke the frog, much to the surprise of Renko and even further to the nonchalance of Merry. “Yes?” responded the twins in concert, deciding to ignore any logical issues with the matter of the speaking frog, who was speaking English-- contrary to what Renko had just stated very definitely about frogs, and she was usually a very precise girl. “My name, into which I happened to notice you were rather diligently inquiring, is Herman. Herman Winfast Lakemann the Fourth, if you’re from the census bureau.” “Well, suppose we aren’t from the census bureau,” suggested Merry. “What should your name be then?” “I’d rather like to think it’d be the same, wouldn’t it?” Renko proposed what seemed to be the logical solution, albeit a human logical solution, and human logic in all previous clinical trials had been found to be less than effective towards English-speaking frogs.

“I told you,” said the frog, “if you are not from the census bureau, which at least the energetic one is not-- jury’s still out on the one wearing a hat, she’s very like the census bureau type-- then my name is Herman.” “Thank you, Herman.” Merry gave a polite courtesy, and the girls were pretty sure the frog gave a smile in response. “Say,” said Renko, “why are you a talking frog? It’s rather curious.” “Because, " answered Herman in a straightforward manner, “in all my life, I have never known a silent frog to accomplish very much.” “That is not what I meant,” correct Renko. “I have heard a great many frogs make a great many noises, but none of them up until now have been in English.”

“Ah, I see. That is quite simple,” remarked Herman the frog, “haven’t most of the people you’ve heard about making a fuss been speaking in English?” “I suppose you’re right,” answered Merry, impressed by the logic of the frog. A far less impressed Renko responded, “That’s because you only know English, Merry. I myself have known a great many people to make a great many fusses in a great many languages.” “You’re using the words great many a great many times, Renko,” Merry remarked. While the twins were pleasantly bickering, the frog had come up with a further answer he thought to be much more satisfactory. “Ahem.” The frog drew their attention back to him-- sorry, the frog’s name is Herman, he would have me to write-- Herman drew their attention back to them, and gave his rebuttal.

“Haven’t most of the frogs you’ve heard making a fuss been speaking in English?” “Well… You aren’t wrong,” Renko had to admit, “but that is solely due to the fact that you’re the sole frog we’ve heard make such a fuss.” “I see!” Merry’s eyes lit up, as her brain seemed to align more with frog logic than it ever did with human logic. “Thus, one-hundred percent of fuss-making frogs we’ve ever encountered have been speaking in English, so it is perfectly natural and expected that you should be speaking in English as well.” “Exactly!” Herman proudly smiled, “I’m the sort of person who goes along with the flow. I hop on the bandwagon, no questions asked! Thus, as soon as English became the trendiest language for fuss-making frogs who spoke to children, I was the next one to join.”

“You really should try to express yourself more,” Merry suggested. “Yes, you are a frog! You needn’t conform to society, like schoolchildren have to,” Renko added. “Schoolchildren needn’t either,” Merry argued. Herman, after having been vigorously psychoanalysed by a curious pair of twin girls, resolved that he would turn his life around. “You know, I think you are right. I think that I will make my own decisions. I was never very popular as a tadpole, as I would always swim following the others. Thus, I stayed in the back of the school, and not one other tadpole ever took notice of me. Now that I am a frog and have the capacity to reason and to make my own decisions, I will follow my dreams and become a marine biologist.”

“Logically,” said Renko, “a marine biologist is a very intelligent amphibious creature, and you are a very intelligent amphibious creature, so I think that you could find great success in your chosen career.” “Do mention us in the foreword when you publish a famous marine biology textbook for all of frog-kind,” Merry politely requested. “Oh, I shall be sure too,” acquiesced Herman. “And,” Merry continued, “you should give up all this nonsense about being ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and wanting to make a fuss. Instead, devote that passionate energy you feel towards your study.” “Ironic coming from you,” Renko jabbed, “I don’t think you’ve put a bit of your boundless energy toward your study.” “I don’t have boundless energy, Renko,” Merry was quick to retort, “that would violate that thing you go on about--- the law of consternation or what have you.” “You mean the law of conservation of energy. I have no doubt that you’re a boundless source of consternation.”

“Well, children, I have made up my mind,” said a resolute Herman. “I’ll give up this silly idea of going around speaking English and causing a fuss, and instead I’ll go and study so that I may become a famous marine biologist. Thank you both, and have a good afternoon.” After that, Herman swiftly hopped back into the lake, and the twins presumed that he was going to go study marine biology. At that moment, their mother came up behind them to enquire about their backyard goings-ons.

“Miriam! Rebekah! It is nearly dinnertime. Was that a frog? It seemed quite adorable. I hope you had a good time.” “Yes, Mama. It was a frog,” Rebekah remarked, adjusting her hat so that the brim blocked the nearly evening sun. “His name was Herman,” informed Miriam, smiling up at her mother. “Is that so? How do you know?” “He told us,” Rebekah related. “Yes, he spoke English,” Miriam proudly stated with her newfound deeper understanding of frog logic. “Wonderful! I do hope I get to hear it someday,” their mother wished. “You can’t.” Rebekah’s blunt response confused the woman. “Well why not?” “He gave it up. He shan’t speak English anymore.” saying that , Rebekah stood up, and grabbed her mother’s hand . “Yes,” continued Miriam, “He decided to embrace his individuality and become a marine biologist.” She stood up too, and grabbed her mother’s other hand. The twins’ mother giggled, and led them to the house for dinner.