Even in early fall, it's fun to walk along the edges of ponds and listen to the plop, plop, plop of frogs diving off the banks to the deep below. As I remember, Leo was always the big frog catcher. He wasn't afraid of getting warts from handling them. Ha! He had a couple already, anyway. He claimed he had the knack, a slow, quiet approach to the water's edge and fast hands. Sometimes, he'd wade in after them in bare feet. When he was on the 'hunt' for a large bull, he could stay knee deep for five, ten minutes at a time without moving it seemed. And every so often, he's purse his lips with his index finger to clue us shore dwellers to be ever so silent for he was very close to a 'catch'. On our many trips to the five ponds at Evergreen, he seldom came away empty-handed. I was not a big frog guy. The downside was the aroma of swamp water on hands and feet that would accompany you throughout your day. Mom always knew if I had been wading in my sneakers and sent me straight to the bathtub before bed. No ugly warts for this kid. I was a true believer.