Ida Green
Ida Green had lived at the Washington fish market a long time. She could not remember living anywhere else. She lived in a tank with many other frogs in a stall owned by a man named Bill Bailey.
Bill liked to sing a song he made up to attract people to his stall. He sang:
Bush is in the White House, he’s doin’ his best.
Reagan’s in the graveyard, he’s takin� his rest.
He’s gone. Gone long time.
Early every morning a chef named Robert from a fancy restaurant called La Colline would ride his bicycle down Capitol Hill to Bill�s stall on the wharf. Robert picked out seafood and frogs to take back to his restaurant. He packed them all in a cooler strapped to the back of his bicycle, and then he rode back to the restaurant.
He had not yet chosen Ida Green, and since no other frog had ever come back from La Colline, none of the frogs in the tank were any the wiser as to what happened when Bill took them out of the tank and gave them to Robert.
A wise, old frog named Harry Croaker told the frogs that Robert took them to a marshy paradise where frogs lived forever and dined every day on the choicest insects. Ida Green was not so sure about that, but she didn�t say so.
One day Bill plucked Ida Green from the tank and gave her to Robert. He also gave Harry Croaker and several other frogs to Robert. Robert put the frogs in the cooler on top of cold, dead fish. The cold made the frogs sluggish and tired so they did not jump much.
Harry said, �Don�t be afraid. We�ve been chosen to go to the marshy paradise. Be glad!�
Ida Green had her doubts. She asked Harry, �Then why did Mr. Robert put us in this cooler with cold, dead fish?�
Harry answered, �Because it�s hot outside. Mr. Robert knows what is best for us and wants us to be comfortable on our journey to the marshy paradise.�
Ida Green was not convinced, and she began to croak loudly to attract Robert�s attention. Robert stopped his bicycle and opened the cooler.
�What�s going on in there?� He said. �It should be too cold for you to croak.�
�Sir, please tell us what you are going to do to us?� Ida Green asked. She had to croak very strangely for Robert to understand her.
�Why, I�m going to cook you and feed you to the customers at my restaurant,� Robert responded. He did not act surprised to be talking to a frog. Perhaps in the country he was from, frogs talked all the time.
When they heard what Robert was going to do to them, all the frogs started croaking excitedly, and Robert shut the lid of the cooler and locked it.
After awhile, the frogs quieted down and Harry Croaker said, �We must accept our fate and hope that after we die and are eaten, then our spirits will find the marshy paradise.�
Ida Green said, �I�ve got a better idea.� And she began to croak again as loudly as she could.
After awhile, Robert stopped his bicycle again and lifted the lid on the cooler. �Now what?� he said.
�Mr. Robert, let me give you some advice on preparing frogs,� Ida Green said.
�I don�t need any advice,� Mr. Robert said. �I am one of the greatest chefs in the city.�
Ida Green said, �Yes, but have you ever had a frog herself tell you how she likes to be prepared? If you listen me, I can tell you things that will make you not only the greatest chef in the city, but the greatest chef in the land.�
Robert thought about this a moment and decided he would listen.
Ida Green said, �First thing you should know is that we have been kept in a cold, dirty tank all of our lives. We are hardly fit to feed customers at a great restaurant such as yours.�
Robert said, �No one has ever complained about the frog legs before.�
�Frog legs?� Ida Green said. �Do you know Bill only fed us old, dried up shrimp? Our legs have been made so tough and stringy from this pitiful food and lack of exercise, your customers would probably think they were gnawing an old piece of leather rather than frog legs.�
�All the same, no one has ever complained,� Robert said.
�They don�t know what frog is supposed to taste like,� Ida Green said. �Here�s what you need to do: you need to find a pleasant marsh in which to release us so that we can grow healthy and strong. You can check on us every day, and when we are finally fat and healthy enough, then you can feed us to your most important customers. Think of the advertising: �come to la Colline for fresh, marsh-raised frogs.��
�But I know of no such marsh,� Robert said. �This is the city.�
Ever since Robert had opened the cooler the first time, Ida Green had smelled something that was only a distant memory from her froggy childhood. It was the smell of a marsh, grassy and algae-covered, insect-infested and damp. It was the smell of the marshy paradise of which Harry Croaker had told them.
�I know of a marsh, a marshy paradise,� Ida Green said to Robert, �and I can take you there.�
Robert closed the cooler on the other frogs and, with Ida Green clutched tight in one hand and the other steering his bicycle, he let Ida Green lead the way.
�Turn right�now left�� Ida Green directed, following the smell in her nostrils.
Soon Ida Green could see the marsh as well as smell it. It was the marsh on the 3rd street side of the Museum of the American Indian. How good it looked and smelled! Cattails lined the bank of a shallow, lily-pad covered pond in which goldfish swam. Birch saplings that would one day grow into tall trees shaded the deeper parts of the pond. One dead birch lay across the water. Ida Green thought its branches would provide an excellent home for her and her frog friends.
�Here it is!� Ida Green said.
�So if I let you live here, I will be able to come collect one or two of you whenever I want to serve frog. How do I know you won�t leave?�
�You said yourself, this is the city. Where would we go?� Ida Green answered.
�True,� Robert said, even as he made his decision. He would let the frogs live in the museum marsh. Then another thought made him even happier: he would be raising his own frogs. He would not have to buy them from Bill anymore.
Robert rubbed his hands together anxiously. �I think this is a great idea, Ida Green.� And with that he opened the cooler and released the frogs into the marsh. Ida Green was right behind them.
Once in the marsh, Ida Green croaked good-bye to Robert.
�I�ll be back to check on you tomorrow,� Robert said.
Happy to be free, the frogs swam and hopped around their new home. Some of the frogs swam between the branches of the fallen birch and each of them picked a spot that would be his or her very own place to live. Others decided they would rather live on the muddy bank, and they made cool, damp mud-nests for themselves amongst the reeds and cattails. The happy croaking of the frogs soon attracted people who were visiting the museum. They were glad to hear such unexpected sounds coming from the marsh.
The frogs croaked a little song about Ida Green:
Ida Green, Ida Green
Smartest frog I ever seen
Ida Green, Ida Green,
We will follow Ida Green…
Soon, however, Harry looked unhappy, and Ida Green asked him what was wrong.
�When Robert comes back and decides he wants frogs to eat, we will have to give him some of our fellow frogs.�
Ida Green said, �I don�t think so. Wait and see.�
As night fell over the National Mall and the museums closed, the frogs kept up their joyful croaking until the wee morning hours. No one minded, and a security guard named Thomas even ate his dinner while sitting on a bench at the edge of the marsh, just so he could listen to the frogs.
Meanwhile, in the darkness, under the stars, Harry Croaker croaked stories of frog lore to Ida Green and the other frogs. He told how once, all the fresh water in the world belonged to the frogs, and all the creatures of the world�including men and women�had to ask the frogs� permission to drink. Then one day, a man disguised as a coyote tricked the frogs into releasing the dam that held their water, and the frogs lost their only power.
Harry Croaker also told them how in the autumn, all the frogs would descend to the bottom of their marsh and bury themselves in the mud where they would sleep until warmer weather. Some frogs would not wake up, but would die and go on to the true marshy paradise on the other side of death. Upon waking, the first song the frogs would sing would be a song of joy for both the living and the dead. Harry Croaker said he would teach them the song, when the time came.
The next day, Robert returned on his way back from the fish market. He asked Ida Green if she thought any of them were ready to go with him back to the restaurant.
�No, we�re not healthy enough yet,� Ida Green replied. �We need more of this good food and exercise.�
The next time Robert returned, Ida Green told him the same thing. And the next day after that. And the next day after that.
Meanwhile, Robert could see that the frogs were getting fatter every day on a rich diet of summer insects. Finally, he grew impatient.
�Today, some of you are coming with me back to the restaurant. I have waited long enough.�
With that, he took a brown, cloth potato sack from his pocket and began trying to catch the frogs. They hopped away from him as he tried to grab them, and soon, he was ankle deep in the marsh, splashing and making a muddy mess of his clothes trying to catch frogs.
�What�s going on here?�
It was Thomas, the security guard.
�These are my frogs,� Robert said. �I released them here the other day, and now I am here to collect some of them to take back to my restaurant.�
�Those aren�t your frogs anymore,� Thomas said. �Those belong to the American people now. And you are stealing from the American people if you take even one of them. I suggest you find some other food to cook at your restaurant.�
Robert was very angry, but there was nothing he could do. Once, he even came back at night with his potato sack, and the guards chased him off then, too. Finally, he gave up, deciding he would never again trust a frog.
As for the frogs, they had found their marshy paradise.