FishRook
There are certain things in life that bring you right back to your childhood. It can be the smell of chalk, the theme song of a Saturday morning cartoon show, or even the flavor of a certain candy. It’s different for everybody and some people have many. For me though, the biggest thing that instantly transfers me back to my childhood is hearing the rasping croak of a big summer bullfrog.
When I was around 10 years old, my brother, cousins, and I would don headlamps and arm ourselves with bee-bee guns, spotlights, and my uncle’s old rusty gigging spear and then head out to the swampy pond behind my grandfather’s house to hunt bullfrogs. We’d spend the entire night slogging through the muck and wading chest-deep into the green water trying to stick a spear into a croaking pair of glowing eyes. At sunrise, we’d hike back to my grandpa’s house, covered in mud and bug bites, to clean our catch of bullfrogs which grandpa would cook us for breakfast. He’d fry the legs in a…
