For weeks Owen and I had been seeking a mystery amphibian we had dubbed "Squeak-Splash," due to the tell-tale froggy scream and sound of a splash we would hear often on our frogging adventures. Our heads would whip toward the sound in unison, but all we ever saw was a large ripple along the bank of the canal. Early on we suspected it might be a bullfrog. Bullfrogs do scream or meow like cats when they are distressed. Well. Last night we heard the squeak-splash, and this time we actually saw something scuttle into some swamp grass in the wake of the ripples. I hurried over and agitated the swamp grass with my net, and then we saw it--frozen in the spotlight of my flashlight was a frog larger than any we had seen so far. I quickly scooped the creature up with the large net (and a wiggly beast it proved) and hustled it over to the land habitat we had prepared.
Tom Riddle was our guest for one evening, and she mostly hunkered down in the mud and played statue. She remained unperturbed when Charles (the bronze frog who shared her habitat) decided to roost on her head. Near the end of her stay she hopped into the makeshift pool we had provided and remained there until she was released in the grass near the canal.