Bully Bull Frog and His Home in Rainbow Valley

by Elizabeth Stafford Fry

DUCKS

The morning was dark and gloomy. Black clouds hung low over the Frog Pond. Deep thunder rumbled and rolled, and across the sky the lightning flashed and zigzagged back and forth. The wind made a low moaning sound in the treetops, as if he knew that a great sorrow had come to the little folks who lived there. The tall cat-tails bowed their heads and sighed. Every frog was quiet and very much afraid. What were they afraid of? Not of the coming storm, I am sure, for frogs dearly love raindrops. Some one very dreadful had come during the early morning hours. And now every little heart was beating fast with fear. Every little face had a look of care and fright.

This morning Bully had slept quite late because he had learned that the very best time to get a good meal is at night. In the darkness many of the little flying and crawling creatures are out. You see, Bully has good eyes. He can see almost as well in the dark as in the light. He had a habit of roaming about among the weeds and grasses during the early hours of the night. He was growing round and fat, for he had learned to be a good hunter.

But of course a little frog must sleep some, too. So he had slept a little later than usual on this stormy morning. As he opened his eyes and sat looking about, he wondered why everything was so quiet. He could not hear the croak of a single frog. Neither could he see any on Grandfather Frog's island. But here and there peeping through the water he saw a little face wearing a frightened look. It seemed very strange indeed. What did it mean?

He was turning these things over in his mind when he heard a new, strange noise. It came from over beyond the bulrushes. It sounded like quack, quack. He was greatly alarmed. What could it mean? Some one dreadful must have come in the night—some one that would hurt little frogs. When he heard quack, quack the second time, Bully sprang quickly into the water and went down, down as deep as he could, and then crawled under a rock on the bottom of the pond. Whoever made that dreadful noise seemed to be following him. He could not stay hidden long, so he thought he would go quietly over to his old log and try to find Grandmother Bull Frog. She always took care of him in time of danger, so he must find her. You know there is no place quite so safe as the one close to mother when danger is near. And Grandmother, you remember, was the only mother Bully knew.

Down behind the old log he found most of the old frogs. They were talking scarcely above a whisper, and all of them looked frightened and worried. He heard them say, "What shall we do? We can't live here with those ducks. There isn't room in the Frog Pond for both ducks and frogs. But how can we make the ducks go away? Is it possible the Lark made a mistake and invited those dreadful ducks to come here, too? Or did they see a great many frogs coming this way and follow them?"

"Perhaps they won't stay," said one. "They may not like this pond!"

"But they will like it," answered another. "See all these tender young frogs and polly-wogs! They can't help liking this pond."

"They will gobble our children by the thousands," said another.

Bully was dreadfully frightened. From what the old frogs said he learned that Mr. and Mrs. Duck had come, and if they stayed there would be no more peace and happiness for the frogs in Rainbow Valley. Their home would be quite spoiled. Oh, it was the very worst thing that had ever happened to them!