I’m aware that lots of people lie in bed and play their entire life history like a full length movie while trying to sink into oblivion. This is so much better than counting sheep, but not especially conducive to the goal at hand. I was doing this very thing a few nights ago when an unusual noise kept bringing me back to wakeful clarity. For a while, I was able to incorporate the noise into my sleep-inducing dream, and then, as I floated to semi-consciousness, my brain contemplated things like rain falling through the gutter outside my bedroom window or the house creaking its woody bones, and finally, I imagined a very loud faucet drip. As my partly conscious mind ran out of creative solutions, I became more alert.
Too comfortable and a little lazy, I lay motionless in my warm spot, but I did make the effort to turn my head so both ears were at the ready. The noise actually sounded more like a thumping of two objects. It had not been very long since I had been up for one of my nightly bathroom visits, in the dark with only a nightlight, so I assured myself as I lay there that the noise had to be coming from the outside. I didn’t want to think that something may have been inside the bedroom or bathroom with me in the dark. That was too much to contemplate. But the thumping-like sound continued.
I cleared my throat and attempted a loud cough, wondering if that would make the noise stop. If it did stop, I told myself that I would know without a doubt that it was being made by something inside the room. But the sound continued after my noisy croak. Did this really mean it was outside? Somehow my brain would not accept this easy solution. I could not convince my half-asleep self that it was nothing to worry about and that I should continue to try to snooze.
Reluctantly, I turned over, slid my feet to the floor and pushed myself up, now wide awake. I turned on the bedside lamp because a little voice inside my head was indicating a fight or flight situation might be in my near future, and I should be prepared with sufficient brightness to thwart any, or all, intruders. The thumps continued.
Looking around the bedroom, I tried to determine exactly where the noise was coming from, but as I have aged, my noise location perception has misled me many times. Noises will seem to be coming from one place when they are actually coming from the exact opposite direction. I stood and cautiously made my way to the bathroom since I saw nothing happening in the bedroom to contribute to the explanation of the thumping sound. As I neared the doorway, the noise abruptly ceased.
The little bedside lamp was not the brightest of lights, but I confidently moved on, scanning the floor and walls for anything that might explain the mystery sound. Just outside the open bathroom door, I saw it, sitting on the white tile, snugged up against the open door. In a droopy, druglike stance, it appeared to be sleeping. I deduced that the thumping sound must have been created by its feeble lunge against the door, thinking that could be the way out. It was a tree frog, one of those Cuban ones, I think, judging from its oversized toe pads and color. I had encountered a couple on my porch, and I was not happy to see this one inside my living space.
My fight or flight mode segued into “how do I get rid of this thing?” My thought process led me back to my previous lizard captures accomplished with an upside down bucket and a piece of cardboard to slide underneath the opening. But the bucket was in the garage and at this time of night, the garage was not an option. I thought of the large yogurt container holding my paint brushes and the heavy watercolor paper near it. I left the scene of the crime, hoping the little tree frog would remain immoble, and it did. It took seconds to plop the cuplike container over the invader’s body and slip the paper underneath.
As my heart did some thumping of its own, one little leg darted out, but I quickly moved my trap to capture all of the intruder’s thumping parts. Keeping the watercolor paper secure, I rotated the cup 180 degrees and carefully made my way to my back porch where I opened the screen door and dumped the frog as though I was tossing out a cup of water.
One would think that after all this activity, sleep would evade me for hours, but surprisingly, after rinsing out my frog catcher and getting a drink of water (not in the same cup), I returned to bed and fell asleep immediately. In the morning it all seemed like a dream, but I knew better than that. I thought of what I had read recently about euthanizing the invasive Cuban tree frogs instead of returning them to the wild, but that just did not seem right. And looking for benzocaine in my medicine cabinet was not high on my list in the middle of the night. I will hope that the tree frogs stay outside where they belong, but I’ll keep my homemade frog catcher handy just in case another thumper mistakenly joins me inside and needs a free ride back to the wild.
Not the actual tree frog but very similar. I was not thinking of photos before I trapped it.
