Whimsy is a frog on a limb. He’s a curious little tree frog with a penchant to stumble into the creative world of people. With his new friend Muse, he’ll add a bit of Whimsy to our lives.
“Seriously, Whimsy, you are quite intolerable sometimes,” said the toad trying to ignore the hyper, hopping, bouncing frog.
“No, no, no, I’m happy,” Whimsy said to the left.
“I’m excited,” he said to the right.
“I’m green you see,” Whimsy said vanishing from view.
Toad was cautious not to appear too concerned; nevertheless, he was a little alarmed by Whimsy’s sudden disappearance. He looked left… He looked right… He looked front, then back but no Whimsy.
“I’ve got suckers!” The excited voice came from above.
Toad looked up to see Whimsy above his head with his toes wrapped around a limb, and just in time for the little frog to let go landing squarely on Toad’s head.
“Will you please get off me,” demanded Toad, looking up at Whimsy through the little frog’s suckered toes.
“I can be a little gray sometimes too,” Whimsy teased his grumpy friend. “Sometimes I’m even a little tan, but today I’m GREEN! Com’on Bufomede, cover those warts in GREEN!”
Just then Bufomede lurched at a passing fly catching the unsuspecting insect on his tongue and sending Whimsy tumbling back onto his head.
“I’m a toad,” Bufo said matter-of-factly swallowing the fly, “I like gray and warts you slimy li’l hylid.”
Whimsy was feet over head. He blinked twice in astonishment. “THAT… WAS… AWESOME!”
“You are too easily amused, my li’l green friend.”
“Thanks!” said Whimsy still on his head and unaware it wasn’t a complement.
“While you right yourself, I will take my leave. Good evening, Whimsy.”
Balanced on his chin, suckered hind feet dangling over his slick green head, Whimsy watched his more subdued friend Bufomede hop off into the darkening forest floor when a curious glow sped arrow straight in his direction.
“Ooh, a firefly…” Whimsy quickly righted himself.
“Light up my belly!” – THWOOPP! His tongue cracked the early evening air and reeled in the passing glow.
“I am NOT a firefly. Will you kindly spit me out?”
Whimsy wheeled around behind him expecting to see a practical joker in the weeds; there was no one.
Whimsy spun back around and still there was no one.
“Your BELLY…” said the voice with noticeable sarcasm.
Whimsy did his best to tilt his head and look at his abdomen.
“I would appreciate if you would promptly release me.”
BLAH! Whimsy spat out his offended snack then cowered behind a stalk of grass.
“Well… wh – wh – what are you?”
“I, little Whimsy, am a Muse… and somewhat baffled that you are able to see me.”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to see you? I thought you were a firefly.”
“I’m well aware of that after my brief tour of your gastrointestinal region.”
“Oh never mind… I’m a Muse. I inspire God’s people, those who desire it anyway. My work is subtle and discrete, though I must be losing my touch as you are able to see me.”
“So you are like an angel?” Whimsy asked with excitement.
“Well, not exactly, I suppose there are similarities,” said Muse. “Where the will of man desires God’s gift of creativity, we inspire. You are quite the inquisitive little creature, aren’t you? Rather informed for an amphibian.”
“I hear a lot of things from up in my trees,” Whimsy agreed. “See, I got suckers!”
“Yes, I see that… Wait a minute!” Muse seemed to have an epiphany. “Of course! It’s brilliant! That’s why you can see me. You are supposed to help me. I have a job for you my little sucker-toad friend.”
“Oh, but I’m not a toad; I’m a frog.”
Muse paused briefly, “Oh, never mind, we have little time to waste. The Ranger is coming, and this may be our only chance.”
“So is it very important, this job,” Whimsy asked with excitement.
“Oh yes, for one little creature it is the most important, I fear.”
“Oh,” Whimsy showed concern.
“You see, two days ago just down that road there,” Muse darted in the direction of the forest road then back to his original position, “the Ranger’s mare had a stillborn colt.”
“Oh, no! That’s so sad,” Whimsy frowned. “What’s a mare?”
“It’s a lady horse…”
Whimsy did not seem any wiser but actually more confused.
“Never mind I’ll tell you later,” Muse said, desperate to continue. “And this morning filthy poachers shot and killed the mother of that poor hungry little fawn just yonder in a pile of leaves.”
“A fawn?” Whimsy searched but couldn’t see until he hopped, grabbed a blade of grass then flung himself up and onto a low hanging branch from a nearby bush. “Oh, no! A little baby! I didn’t see her there. She’ll starve without her mama. We need to help her.”
“Exactly, my little green friend; young fawns are speckled and spotted that way to make them very difficult to see. It is a form of defense, but sadly her defense may be her doom, for the Ranger will surely not see her either, unless we can stop him and I can inspire him to look. With a little luck, and of course a little inspiration, the Ranger will take the fawn home and the mare searching for her lost colt might adopt this poor creature.”
“What can I do?” Whimsy was desperate to help.
“A little Whimsy will be just what we need,” Muse said encouragingly as to himself. “Can you scurry up that tree there, the one with branches reaching out over the road?”
“Well, of course I can,” said Whimsy. “I have…”
“Yes, I know. You have suckers. Ok, quickly. We haven’t much time. I hear the Ranger coming.”
With acrobatics like no other creature in the forest, Whimsy hopped, swung, flung and flew himself up the mentioned tree then quickly out on the branch over the road just as Muse had directed.
“That’s it, Whimsy,” Muse shouted. “Now prepare yourself. I want you to hang from where you are and drop when I tell you.”
“DROP?” Whimsy questioned.
“No, not now! When I tell you to! Drop when I tell you to! To get the Ranger’s attention.”
“Ok, I’m ready,” Whimsy said holding on to the small branch with three legs and letting the other dangle prepared to let go at Muse’s command.
“That’s perfect. Now wait for my signal… Yes, that’s just perfect my little frog on a limb.”
To be continued… The Ranger and the Fawn