The two brothers looked out from their penthouse at their priceless view of Manhattan, but both watched the clock turn over to 7:15:00 PM, Eastern Standard Time.
The afternoon shadows swept in that September afternoon and the sky darkened.
“It’s time,” said one brother. They put on coats and got in the elevator without a word. The elevator sped to the basement floor without stopping, and discharged the brothers into a secret passageway lined with stolen Egyptian art treasures, that led into Central Park.
An African Grey Parrot waited as they passed at 7:18. One of the brothers handed the parrot a large bag of pistachios. It took the bag, and then flew along besides them.
The brothers are big men, if elderly and somewhat stooped. But they strode briskly and with command, from the tunnel to the edge of a pond in the Park. Then they spoke to the parrot, who called out over the waters.
One of the Brothers spoke first to the Grey parrot, who translated the hooman words and spoke to Arkan in their patois.
“We have agreed to meet you because we have been told you are a serious animal that deserves respect. But we do not know what services we can provide to you.”
Arkan IX smiled thinly. His eyes glittered like the crown jewels as he thought of the ducklings he’d just eaten.
“I need a million dollars for lawyers,” Arkan responded, through the parrot, “And I need access to those Frog Court judges that you possess like so many kopeks stuffed into your pockets.”
Now the Brothers’ eyes glittered with the heat of greed.
“We have our own problem with Frog Court and their Commission,” Brother David snarled, “ Over three years ago I personally appeared before the Frog Environmental Regulatory Commission (FERC) and objected to this nonsense about animals and plants having a voice in environmental matters! They laughed at me, or to be more precise, they brayed and ribbeted and squawked and hooted and quacked at me.” www.dailykos.com/...
“Well, just like I said, it’s gone too far! Now you have the 4th Circuit of the Federal Appeals Court blocking a gas pipeline by quoting Dr. Seuss about who will speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues?” ( www.courthousenews.com/...)”
“We’ll help you stop this trend,” the Brother exclaimed to Arkan, “We’ll arrange corrupt judges for your next Frog Court venture. Hell, we’ll make you a Frog Court Judge!”
“We'll also supply you with access to the Corvid Bar Association. You’ve been hiring historic figures for attorneys, and they’ve lost every time. You need to have the smartest bird in the room representing you, and that’s a corvid. We’ll destroy the Frog Mitigation Area, and then the Frog Court will have no jurisdiction. Leave the details to us.”
The Brothers turned to leave, Arkan IX slipped into the turbid waters, and the plot’s wheels began spinning.
Meanwhile, back at the Frog Mitigation Area, a .002 acre wetlands area with adjoining ponds, west of Portland Oregon, we’d received an early warning of the Bros & Bullfrog plot. The Grey Parrot translator was angry at the Brothers; he’d been promised 2 kilos of nuts but the Brothers shorted him, paying only 2 lbs. instead. The Grey was happy to tell us what he knew about the plot, after we made up the nuts shortfall. (All further conversations in this Bucket are as translated by the Grey Parrot).
We wondered how the bullfrogs would come at us. I made my own calls to the Corvid Bar Association and left a message, but didn’t hear back from them.
The Frog Mitigation area includes two small ponds without any fish, where native chorus frogs can mate and lay eggs and tadpoles can grow without getting eaten.
Two nearby, larger ponds used to contain fish, but had been repaired and only one pond currently has fish in it. Beyond it, finches and juncoes nest in a grotto of ornamental bushes. These ponds and the bushes are considered a protected buffer area to shield the actual Frog Mitigation Area.
The Frog Environmental Regulatory Commission (FERC) issues the permits for the operation of the Frog Mitigation Area (FMA). The Frog Court settles permit issue disputes within the Mitigation Area.
The FMA needs protection from Bullfrogs. They are an imported, invasive species and periodically infest both ponds and even the Mitigation Area itself. They’ll eat the tiny native frogs and their tadpoles. Bullfrogs had wiped out the entire regional population of native frogs before the FMA offered protections.
Herons, coons, skunks, and my net all reduce the bullfrog assaults. But bullfrogs are remarkably hungry and each can eat several native frogs and ornamental fish every day until controlled.
They’d come at me in Frog Court before. I currently have to operate under the strictures of several Consent Decrees they’d won against me, which set out onerous reclamation standards.
What would they try next?
The phone buzzed me awake at 3 am. It was the Frog Court bailiff, drunk dialing me.
“They done it,” he slurred, “Zinke resigned as Secretary of the Interior today, but before he left, he made 3 recess appointments to the Frog Court, in return for $100,000 cash in used bills, and an oilfield to be named later. Them new judges, they’re all against you,” the Bailiff insisted.
I didn’t have to wait too long after that. A process server shoved the “Notice to Appear” in my face when I went out for the morning paper a few days later.
The “environmental group” Bullfrogs Strong, or BS, had filed for a Temporary Restraining Order, prohibiting me from placing fish into one of my rebuilt ponds, called the Lily Pond.
I’d hadn’t even put fish in the Lily Pond yet. I was toying with the idea of leaving that pond fishless to see if the native chorus frogs would aggressively recolonize that pond next spring, if the fish were gone.
I felt a little shaky going to Frog Court this time. It was in an old “Mystery Spot” building with an active vortex and it upset my stomach a little.
I knew I was screwed when I finally found the courtroom, and saw that three bullfrogs were the judges. One who I didn’t recognize, was called Arkan IX.
But then I recognized one of the Judges. Judge Jeremiah was a bullfrog, but he was a good friend of mine. I sidled up to the Judge’s Bench.
“Judge,” I said softly, and slipped him a bottle of fine wine.
Now I looked over at the Plaintiff’s attorneys. Sure enough they’d hired two corvids for attorneys; an American Crow and a Scrub Jay. While we waited for court to convene, the crow was running a gleaming pebble back and forth between its talons; the stone’s shiny reflection seemed to flow like water. Meanwhile, the jay was playing some type of 3 card Monte, using mealworms.
I greeted the bailiff.
“Thanks for the warning call.” I slipped him a hundred, and sat down.
Then the Bailiff bellowed, ”Frog Court is in session.”
Judge Jeremiah began, “First matter, a Temporary Restraining Order against Redwoodman, to prevent placement of fish into the Lily Pond before Bastille Day.”
I stood up. “I’ve no objection, your honor.”
“Then the TRO is approved and converted to a permanent restraining order,” said Bullfrog Judge Arkan IX.
“Are we through? Can I go now?” I asked.
All of the judges looked at each other and then looked at the American Crow and Jay lawyers. They all broke out laughing
“We ain’t even got started,” croaked one of the judges. I was trapped.
The crow flew to the judges and dropped off packets of paper.
“We’re hereby filing our own claim on behalf of Bullfrogs Strong for ownership of the Lily Pond. Since Redwoodman no longer has any fish in the Lily Pond, we consider it abandoned and hereby file a title claim by way of a notice of adverse possession, and we intend to withdraw from the Frog Mitigation Area altogether,”
Dang, those corvids were clever. They’d caught me sleeping on that one. They strutted around, preening themselves on their tactics. But I’d been through Frog Court a time or two myself.
“Even if the Lily Pond changes ownership,” I insisted, “It’s still part of the Frog Mitigation Area (FMA) buffer zone, and cannot be withdrawn from the FMA without a majority showing by the creatures living there.”
The Jay sneered. “We know that,” and he nudged another pile of paper. “Here are the absentee ballots of 9 bullfrogs, whom all voted to secede from the FMA.”
“Before we go any farther, will the bailiff please remove all predators especially herons from the court house?” the Jay continued.
That would seriously weaken our defense. We’d overturned past rulings when the heron ate particularly unfriendly judges, but we wouldn’t be able to do that, this session.
Abruptly a low deep voice sounded from the back of the courtroom.
I’d had talked to the Corvid Bar Association myself awhile back. They’d promised some help from their Legal Aid Society, but I’d figured they’d forgotten about me.
But here was my help, as a New Caledonian (NC) Crow flew up.
The American Crow muttered to his Jay partner, “We aren’t the smartest birds in the room anymore.”
The NC Crow began reading aloud from the names of the bullfrogs on the alleged absentee ballots.
“B. Richardson, T Kubek, R Maris, M Mantle, E. Howard, Skowron, M, Berra, Y, Boyer, C, and Ford, W.”
“Praise the Lord! It’s the line up of the 1961 New York Yankees!” crowed the NC Crow, “These ballots are phony!”
TATTAT—TA-TA-T-AT suddenly rattled the window. I stepped over, opened the window and a half dozen grey and brown juncoes, and a handful of yellow finches, zipped inside.
They sped to the Grey Parrot’s side and began angrily chattering. After a minute, the Grey began translating.
“The juncoes are outraged they were not notified of this hearing. They have riparian water rights, senior by use, in the Lily Pond! We demand a vote in this process!”
The American Crow and the Jay kept smirking as they introduced their land use expert, Dr. Gerry Mander, to respond.
“Redistricting was done,” Mander opined, ”It was determined the Juncoes’ community of interest lay with the squirrels rather than with the pond life. Their district was re-drawn to include additional forests and to exclude any part of the Lily Pond. Juncoes are free to cast a provisional ballot if they think they still live in the Pond district,” Mander concluded, choking back a laugh.
“There’s another problem,” he continued, “Under our exact spelling law, if you spelled “Juncoe” as “Junco” on your voter registration form, we rejected your registration.”
The finches raised their own objections.
“We weren’t registered to vote in the Junco preserve, we registered to vote at Lily Pond. We want to vote on this.”
“Certainly,” Mander cackled,”Better hurry, the polls close in 10 minutes. The only voting site is 20 miles north of town, between the cracking units and the reactors at the asphalt refinery.”
“And remember our “exact match” voting registration requirements. If you registered just as “finch,” that will be rejected. Your registration has to read the full American Goldfinch, spelled correctly.”
Now the Juncoes dropped off their own stack of papers, and began talking rapidly.
“We are concerned that removing the Pond from wetlands jurisdiction will mean the Juncoes’ remaining habitat is isolated from other portions of the Frog Mitigation Area. These new Federal Wetlands rules remove protections from isolated wetlands and that would harm our entire habitat Preserve.”
The three frog judges sat up straight and began perusing the proposed Federal Wetlands Regulations.
The Jay began jabbering into the suddenly silent courtroom.
“The fact stands that the redistricting was done under current rules, and the vote is 9-0 in favor of secession, and Heh, since the finches don’t have enough time to vote ...”
Now the NC Crow began to sneer a little himself.
“It soo happens,” He drew it out, “That we have our own petition for the Lily Pond to remain in the Frog Mitigation Area, signed by … 10 fathead minnows currently residing in the Pond, so we win the election 10-9.”
Judge Jeremiah hopped to his, er, feet.
“There aren’t supposed to be any fish in the Lily Pond! FERC rules demand that you obtain prior approval before putting any fish into the Lily Pond! You don’t have those approvals! You will find yourself facing serious charges!”
The NC Crow yawned. “Under the provisions of Nationwide Permit 1538.5, we are allowed to perform mosquito eradication without prior notice to the Commission, and those minnows are for mosquito abatement, in accordance with requirements.”
Behind me, I could hear the Brothers whispering, “I guess we don’t have the smartest bird in the room anymore.”
Judge Jeremiah suddenly croaked, “We’re taking a break,” and the frog judges exited.
Fortunately, in all the confusion, the Bailiff had not gotten around to removing the heron from the court house as the Judge had requested.
So the heron and I met up and charged down the corridors of the courthouse, looking for the Bullfrog Judges. If the heron would have to eat a Bullfrog Judge or two, well, it had happened before.
Meanwhile, the two Brothers also prowled the courthouse, also angrily looking for the Bullfrog Judges, who’d failed to rubber-stamp the Brothers’ scheme.
The Brothers intercepted the Judges first, cornering them, spitting with rage.
“Listen here, you took our bribes, now you settle this case in our favor! NOW!”
To the Brothers’ surprise, Judge Jeremiah Bullfrog reared up and threw a fistful of papers into the Brothers’ faces. It was the new federal wetlands regulations that the juncoes had given to the Bullfrog Judges. The upset bullfrogs began yelling right back.
“What the F--— is this? You’re going to remove protections from 51% of the nation’s wetlands?” “Where the f--— do you think bullfrogs live?”
All three Bullfrog Judges abruptly jumped against the Brothers, who fell back through an open door marked “Alligator Mississippiensis.”
The bullfrogs pulled the door shut but you could still hear the yelling and splashing from behind it.
Billy the Heron and I had watched the exchange between the Bullfrog Judges and the Brothers from 20 feet away.
Now the bullfrogs looked at Billy. They knew they were doomed. Billy strutted forth eagerly, ready to spear a bullfrog. I reached out to block Billy.
“I knew your great grandfather,” I said to Arkan IX.
“It took a company of your Green Berets to kill him,” Arkan IX snarled.
“Actually I caught him myself with a net while he dozed on a lily pad,” I said, “Don’t believe those shootout stories on Frog State TV News, it’s all propaganda.”
My voice rose, “I’m not sorry, either, he’d just killed and eaten most of my spring run of chorus frogs in cold blood,”
“Of course he killed in cold blood, you idiot,” said Arkan IX,” He was an amphibian!”
“Listen,” I said, “We saw what you did with the Brothers.”
“If they come for the little frogs, the big frogs are next,” Jeremiah contributed.
I held an arm in front of Billy the Heron, holding him back from the Bullfrog Judges.
“You deserve some credit for what you did to the Brothers. We’ll give you three steps towards the door,” I told the Bullfrog Judges.
The bullfrogs turned with ballet-like grace and their sinewy legs flexed, launching them as if they were flung from a catapult. They tumbled in the sky, alternating between flashes of their smooth ivory bellies and their rough nephrite skin, and splash-landed all the way into a nearby swamp. They had cleverly jumped out a small window, too small for the heron to fly through to chase after them.
For a second I regretted not unleashing Billy the Heron onto the Bullfrogs. But I knew I would see Arkan IX again. He and his raiders always sought to devour the Spring migration of Western Chorus Frogs as they arrived at the Frog Mitigation Area. Better we should meet there in battle, this coming Spring.
Please be warned that occasional Frog Court episodes may be partly true and could contain some science.
This Bucket may be cited as:
Man, Redwood. “Pseudacris’ Potential Recolonization of a Suburban Pond.” In: Proceedings of the 20th annual Drunken Shoutouts of the Burning Man Convention. NE of Reno, Nevada, Fall, 2018.
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