Gibb River Frog

Gibb River frogs are very loud. Their sound is often like rasping thick rope over wood, perhaps on the edge of a pearl lugger. Other times (it may be a different species of frog), they balloon out sound in big green belches which rise in volume, stop, and start again. After rain they belch for hour after hour.

Two nights ago, after rain, we were watching Betty Blue, the Director’s Cut, on DVD, when a frog started up on the front verandah, just a thin glass window away from where we sat. The sex scenes were laughable with this green belching soundtrack, so I went outside to shoo him away. He sat solidly on the cement floor. I tried picking him up to move him into the bush but he jumped out of my hand before I had any sort of gentle grip – and landed on my bare foot, where he settled, quite comfortable. I laughed so much my wife came to see what was so funny but stayed back in horror. ‘O, what does he feel like?’ she asked. I replied, ‘Warm and wet, a bit like a freshly caught fish.’ He belched as punctuation, and I felt his fat Buddha body rise and fall on my foot. It felt like some kind of natural blessing, a benediction from the frog world. I would’ve chanted with him if I’d known his tongue.