CRAK-CRAK’S WIND

Misunderstandngs might lead to all srots of problems...

CRAK-CRAK’S WIND

Not many people know that frogs are very particular about what they’re called, and Crak-crak was no exception. But his determined protection of his personal name is nothing to do with the events described in this little account, so they can be safely ignored, probably for the time being.

No. Crak-Crak was worried. Like most cold blooded creatures he loved basking in the sun, but had observed that over recent years (yes, he had lived for years and had become an elderly frog) his basking was getting increasingly uncomfortable because the sun was apparently increasing in its temperature, and he was having to seek refuge in the garden pond with increasing regularity, or else be burnt to a cinder. At least, that was the terrible future he saw for himself. And to make matters worse, the pond seemed to be getting increasingly shallow. IT was, in fact, evaporating.

He needed to consult an expert.

Too-Hoo was an expert at just about everything. A barn owl, he had created a cunningly beautiful home in a secret corner inside an elderly barn, and he was proud of it. But he, too, was worried about the nature of his world and found his worry turned to nauseas excitement when Crak-Crak called with his own particular concerns. He was sitting on a low wall when the frog appeared in front of him, landing after a shallow leap only inches away from his beak.

He was alost tempted to take a bite of the warty flesh, but wisdom prevailed sand instead he projected his sharp eyes onto the somewhat timid Crak-Crak and terrified him.

“Frog,” he hooted, “why is it that you have chosen to disturb my period of mental exercise?”

Crak-Crak had no idea what mental exercise might be, but then, neither did the rather pretentious owl who had gained his intellectual dominance of all creatures by using a pompous language that included his own often mistaken interpretations of reality. So he decided to leap straight into hie worries rather than stumble around in a conversation he didn’t understand and would certainly get lost in.

“It is unseasonably tropical,” he told the owl.

“You mean, warm?” hooted Too-Hoo.

“That’s what the word tropical means in my pond,” replied Crak-Crak, determined not to be confused by the famous verbal tricks of the local owl.

“I had noted the matter,” replied Too-Hoo, “and to that end I have been doing a bit of eavesdropping.”

Crak-Crak had no idea what eavesdropping may be but decided that he’d ignore what might just be a little something put in to either confuse him or illustrate the superiority of Too-Hoo, but he continued with his intention of keeping the conversation within his own range of understanding. He was an expert when it came to the discipline of recalcitrant tadpoles but had no idea why eaves needed to be dropped and what it had to do with the weather.

“Excellent,” he said because he felt he needed to say something.

“You don’t know what eavesdropping is, do you” teased Too-Hoo, determined to keep the other’s eye on his own mental superiority.

“I suppose it’s tab-hanging,” smiled Crak-Crak, who had heard the human children in next door’s garden using the term when secretly discussing spying on the toddler playing in a garden further down the row of human dwellings that butted onto the countryside.

“My, you are well up with things,” hooted Too-Hoo, who appreciated what he considered to be huge intelligence. “And as I was saying, I was aware of a conversation between two hooman people. There is, apparently, the danger of global warming.”

“That’s why I came to see you,” acknowledged the frog.

“It seems the hoomans have a little inside information,” continued Too-Hoo, “about what they call climate change. And they know what causes it. They know why everything seems to darned hot these days. They say it’s down to gases.”

“Gases?” asked Crak-Crak, somewhat surprised that the answer should revolve around something as hard to understand as gases. No, not hard to understand but impossible, in the world of frogs, to get his head around.

“And that’s it,” concluded Too-Hoo, “there are too many gases, and you and I know where they’re coming from, don’t we frog?”

“We do?” he asked, confused.

“Of course we do! I’ve heard you leaping to and fro round the gardens in this neck of the woods, and every time you produce a particularly impressive leap you accompany it with a, excuse the language, fart!”

“I need ignorant sparrows and great tits to notice me,” agreed Crak-Crak, “and anyway, I can’t help it. I really can’t.”

“Anyway, the hoomans, who know everything since they invented all the technological things that almost outdo the wit of owls, have decided that the earth, our world that is, these gardens and even the forest beyond, might come to an end and all because of gases.”

“Might, or will?” asked Crak-Crak, needing more time to digest this huge new piece of information.

“Hoomans know just about everything,” sighed Too-Hoo, “but they may not have cottoned on to your explosive farts, yet, and when they do, well, I wouldn’t like to be in your pond, frog. Because if I know anything about hoomans I know they rejoice in extinction because I’ve eavesdropped on more than the one conversation and know all about it. They’re likely to make frogs go extinct. And you know what that means, don’t you? No more froggy farts so no more overheating of the weather and life can go back to normal”

“So, Too-Hoo, what can I do. dear friend?”

“Too-wit-too-woo!” exclaimed the owl, “I’m a dear friend now, am I? Well, I’ll put an idea to you. Try to stop farting! Put a stop to the gases that are making the weather so scorchingly hot. And if you do that then all will be well. The hoomans wot look your way and they won’t extinct you. So off you go. No more farting from you!”

“You are such a wise owl,” muttered Crak-Crak, “so here I go. Fart-free jumps from me for ever more!”

“We make quite a team,” observed Too-Hoo, “I get the ideas and you do the donkey work! But go easy. One step at the time.”

“I will!” croakd Crak-Crak, and he turned and leapt off, clenching his rear end as tightly as he could using muscles he’d hardly used before. But at the first bounce onto the hot earth a terrible pressure built up inside him and at the second bounce he exploded into a cloud of froggy flesh.

“Oh dear,” Too-Hoo hooted to himself, “I did tell him to go easy. Still, that’s global warming done and dusted. I hope the hoomans notice.”

© Peter Rogerson 30.07.23

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