THE POLITICS OF PARADISE POND

                                                                 

                                                                Chapter 2          

                                                            Into the Pond

 

"Look granddad, a frog; on Peter’s knee."

          It was Jason calling, but granddad seemed to have nodded off.

          Peter had noticed the frog, which had come out of the water and approached them in small jerky movements. Seemingly unconcerned it stopped close to his grand-father's right foot. He was even more surprised when it hopped onto his shoe and sat there, in that peculiar way that only frogs do, until another jump brought it to his knee. and stared at him.

          "Well I never," Peter said out loud, but quietly, not wanting to disturb his granddad or frighten away his visitor "to what do I deserve this honour?"

          "Don't you mean to 'whom' do I deserve this honour?" the frog asked, rather haughtily "I'm not a 'what' you know."

          "So sorry," answered Peter, not at all shocked that the frog was talking to him, but surprised at it being so quick to take umbrage. "I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that I didn't expect you to jump onto my knee, that's all."

          "Well, that's alright the then," the frog said, in a grudging kind of manner, which probably meant that it wasn't alright, "but what are you doing at my pond?"

          Peter was a little uncertain how to answer that, but he was also amused.

          "Well, it may be your pond, but it's our meadow, and as you are out of the water, you are in our meadow." he announced.

          The frog looked at Peter for a moment as he considered his words. Then he took a large hop from his knee to the grass, then another big hop, to land perfectly at the shallow edge of the water.

          "OK," he said in a slightly cocky manner. "I'm in my pond and you're in your meadow, are you happy now?"

          "Perfectly thank you, now what can I do for you?"

          The frog just sat there, but in spite of its earlier bluster it seemed rather unsure of itself now.

          "Well let's see," Peter volunteered, wanting to keep the exchange going. "why don't you tell me why you came to speak to me in the first place."

          He was amused and a little surprised that the frog should want to talk to him anyway, and not at all put off by it being, to say the least, a little unusual. Most of all however, he was puzzled at the frog's slightly aggressive maner.

          "Well, what did you want to say to me?" he asked, still trying to get the frog to communicate.

          The frog looked back from his position on the edge of the water, and it seemed to have made up its mind.

          "It wasn't you I came to see. It was...er...him."

          "Well my grandfather seems to have gone to sleep, so you will have to speak with me."

          "Yes I had noticed; can't you wake him up?"

          "Why? So he can talk to a frog?"           

          The frog seemed to be taken aback by that retort "I'm the top frog in these parts and it is my job to look after all the others, so I need to talk to your top man. And I don't like strangers." he added for good measure.

          "Well it's me or nobody." Peter said, in the firmest voice he could manage. Then he asked. "Are there a lot of you?" ignoring the frogs unfriendly attitude.

          "Not as many as before." The frog started "They come and go but once there were hundreds and hundreds of us - and I'm not counting the tadpoles."

          "My word, that's a lot more than I expected, you must be a very busy man ... er, frog."

          "Oh you don't know the half of it, what with making sure they all have enough to eat, and somewhere to sleep; it's a handful I can tell you."

          The frog was speaking freely now, slightly more settled, a little less aggressive.

          "And you are managing alright; is everything OK?" Peter asked, beginning to enjoy the exchange.

          "Well no as a matter of fact, it's not." said Mr frog emphatically. "That's what I want to talk about. The truth is I've got a bit of a fight on my hands."

          Peter was amused again, for while he was talking Mr frog had puffed himself up to show his importance and arrogance, but also his aggravation. In his excitement had made a few small hops and once again he was just out of the water.

          "Oops," he said, "I seem to have found myself back in your meadow."

          "Be my guest." said Peter with a slight wave of his hand.

          "Thank you very much." the frog responded, and with two more hops landed first on Peter's shoe, and then back onto his knee.

          “That's better." he said as he assumed a comfortable squat. "I won't have to shout from here, it was giving me a bit of a croak."

          This time Peter's smile was accompanied with a little chuckle. He wasn't sure if it was intended as a joke, or even if frogs had a sense of humour. 'Better let it pass' he thought.

          "So what's the problem?" he asked. "and by the way, do you have a name?"

          "My name?" he repeated and then went quiet for a moment before saying... "My people call me King ... but you can call me ‘sir’ if you like."

          "Sir? ... you want me to call you sir? Peter folded his arms. "The nearest I will get to sir is . . . cer-tainly not."

          He pretended to be cross, but really he was quite enjoying the battle of wits, and was quite pleased at his little pun; even if Mr frog didn't get it.

          "Haven't you got a name?"

          "I have, but it is only for my close family, and a few friends."

          "Well I'm not going to call you King or sir, so you might just as well hop off back to the pond."

          Mr frog didn't move. He sat - or crouched - where he was and pondered. Perhaps he thought he had a constitutional crisis to deal with.

          Peter didn't rush him. It was warm and he was comfortable; granddad was sleeping peacefully, and he could see Jason by the water playing happily.

          "This is very awkward;" Mr frog said at last. "how can I keep some respect and discipline if everyone calls me by my name."

          "Hardly everyone," Peter said, "and how do you address the other leaders in the pond?"

          "There aren't any others; well at least there weren't until now."

          "Oh come on now; you can't be in charge of all the fish as well as the frogs; and what about all the millions of little fellows down there?"

          "Oh yes I can."

          "Oh no you can't." Peter answered before he could stop himself. But there was no other response from the frog, so he concluded that frogs don't have a funny bone.

          "Now come on," he said, trying to get back to the subject in hand. "if we do not know each others names, we can't get very far to sort out your problem."

          Mr Frog, or King frog, as he clearly wished to be known was obviously unhappy, but he realized that this was an impasse.

          "If I tell you will you only use it when we are alone?"

          "I'll try, but I won't promise."

          Mr frog guessed that he had thrown his hat as far as it would go. He'd have to give a little.

          "Frederick."

          "Pleased to meet you Frederick, and my name is Peter. There; that wasn't too hard, was it? Now what's this problem of yours Freddy, and how do you think I can help you?"

          King frog was mortified. "There you go you see! I give you my name and straight away you mock me."

          "How so Freddy, how have I mocked you?"

          "If you will not call me King, or Sir, so be it; but I will not answer to Freddy. It's Frederick or nothing."

          "Oh dear, I am sorry. I have no wish to upset you. If you want Frederick, then Frederick it is."

          Whether he had thought that giving his name would cause him to be struck by lightning or not Peter did not know, but nothing nasty happened and at last Frederick ventured to speak again. He seemed to be satisfied.

          "Well," he started "It's the newts you see, they're getting out of control. There used to be just one colony, just one family of them - about forty altogether, and they seemed to be quite happy with things - to be led by me you know. I let them live as they wanted to, and we all got on fine."

          "And now?" Peter queried.

          "Well; it all started when Giles arrived and took over. First he got them to ask their cousins to move in, and then their cousins cousins, and then their aunts and uncles, and then their friends, and then ..."

          "Yes, I think I get the idea." Peter held up his hand

          "But now we can't move for them - their taking us over, and soon they will be driving us out of the pond. None of our youngsters can find a safe place to put their heads down, and as soon as they can our youngsters are having to leave the pond." Frederick was determined to make his point.

          "Yes I can see that it might be a problem, but you will have to meet each other half way."

          "That's alright for you to say, but after Giles arrived the blighter's have become fierce and aggressive. They are eating our tadpoles before they hatch, so in no time at all they'll have driven us out. Where's the ‘half way' in that?"

          Without Peter realizing it, the mood of the conversation had changed, and he was being drawn in to pond politics. What were the rights and wrongs of the case. Did the frog king; 'ahem' Frederick; have first call on the pond just because there were more of them? Soon, by the sound of it, there will be more newts, so will they have first call, and will their leader be declared the King?

          "You will have to get together and thrash it out." Peter told Frederick, "There must be room enough for you all in this big lake; you will have to find a way to live in harmony. It should be jaw not war."

          "Scuse me," Frederick coughed sarcastically, "but you can't talk if they won't listen."

          "You must try."

          "Well that's easy for you to say, and that's where I hoped you might help." Frederick said, moving slightly, rather awkward. They were getting to the crux and again he seemed a little unsure of himself.

          "I had hoped that you're grandfather might speak for me - I'm not too good at negotiating, and their leader is very aggressive." he paused a moment "If it were a straight fight I'd beat him easy, but in an argument . . . well, he uses all those long words."

          "Their leader; you mentioned Giles; is that he?"

          "Yes that's him; he claims to be an aristocrat"

          Peter didn't speak for a moment or two, and then he said, "My grandfather has enough on his mind at the moment, but I will help if I can."

          "You will?" Frederick stretched himself up to his full height. "Thanks."

          "OK, I'll see what I can do, but I will need to hear both sides, and then we'll see."

          Frederick took one jump and landed by the water, and then he turned to see Peter still sitting.           There was no sign of him moving.

          "You coming then?" he called back.

          "What now?"

          "Why not?"

          "What about my granddad and little brother?" All of a sudden it was Peter's turn to be uncertain.

          "He's fast asleep," Frederick said nodding in the old man's direction, and your brother is being looked after by some of my family. Haven't you noticed how much he is enjoying himself?"

          Peter looked across and sure enough Jason was thoroughly content with a group of frogs; laughing as he tried to copy them, managing to hop half his body length, while they could manage twenty times theirs.

          "But I can't just leave him." Peter said.

          "I promise you he is safe. After you Peter." Frederick said, enticing his new friend and champion into the water "The sooner you start the sooner we can see off those interlopers."

          "You must understand Frederick, that I will be neutral, and any advice I give will be based on what I think will be best for the pond. I won't go a step nearer until you agree to that."

          Peter was very forceful on that point, and Frederick had to back down, but he had one last try.

          "That's not fair, after all I'm the one who came to get you."

          "Well maybe that's because you thought you could trick me to being on your side, and maybe you thought that without me that you would loose the argument."

          "Of course were going to lose the way it's going; but OK, OK, I give in; now are you coming or not?"

          Peter stood up. He had to give credit where it was due. Frederick might not know the big words, but he made up for that in tenacity.

          "What about trunks? I haven't any with me."

          "Don't worry, it'll be alright; just trust me."

          "Where to then?" he asked, not certain whether trusting a pushy frog was a good idea.

          "In the middle - neutral territory, that's where we have agreed to meet.

          "That's a long way; are you sure?"

          Frederick made no attempt to answer that question, as, with a leap and a plop he was in the water, and Peter followed, just as he was, fully dressed. He would have to be careful, he thought, remembering that as a boy he used to swim in the pond and that it was very deep in the middle. As he waded in he was a little concerned about the effect it would have on his clothes, but it was a concern he quickly forgot for once in the water it was like old times. A couple of years had gone by since he had last entered the lake and he remembered the thrill of it as if it were yesterday. He just couldn't resist and launched forward into a swimming position and made a few strokes.

          But something was different. Unaccountably it was a lot deeper than he expected. He couldn't feel the bottom any more and was having to keep on swimming. Also, to his great surprise, it seemed to be miles way from the bank.

          He started to feel frightened. His ungainly arm movements and panicky shouting was proof of this and soon it brought Frederick to his side. Had he not spoken at once, Peter would have been even more frightened, but even so he was somewhat alarmed, for Frederick was now the same size as he. He put out his front leg to support the struggling boy.

          "Just take it easy, I'll see that you are alright."

          He was calm and assured, which was more than could be said for Peter, but he did feel comforted by Frederick's leg holding him up.

          "But look at you," he said "your as big as me now."

          "Not so my friend; it's the other way round. You have become smaller. Just relax and in a minute you will be able to swim as well as me."

          "Really," said Peter, his panic was starting to subside a little, "as good as you?"

          "Well maybe not quite as good, but good enough to manage."

          By now they had passed between the rocky points on either side of the lake, and were heading into the open water of the big end of the lake, to its very centre. Peter was gaining confidence all the time but still was not entirely free from his earlier apprehension. It was such a long way back, and there was no sign of the other party in the proposed gathering.

          "Will he be coming soon do you think?" he asked a little breathlessly.

          "Knowing him he'll be there already; picking the best place as usual."

          "What do you mean 'there' I thought you said here - in the middle." Peter said, in a slightly cross manner.

          "Yes I did say in the middle, but not up here," Frederick nodded his head "down there." With that, and another back-flip he was gone. Little more than a pull with his front legs, and a swish with his hind, and he disappeared, leaving Peter to fend for himself once more.

          Momentarily he felt the panic return, but to his surprise this was quickly replaced by a feeling of calm, for some second sense told him that now he was swimming well. As good, indeed better, than at any time in his life. It was a wonderful sensation, and he couldn't help feeling happy to be in the water, whatever the reason.

          From nowhere came a splash, and once again Frederick was by his side. "What did I tell you?" Frederick said angrily "he's there; picked the best spot, and he has two of his lieutenants with him - he knew it was supposed to be just the three of us."

          "Just the three of us?" Peter retorted quickly "you were pretty sure of yourself weren't you?" There was a touch of irritation in his voice.

          Frederick seemed to have recovered his sense of superiority, due no doubt to the fact that he and Peter were now much the same size, and, perhaps more important, because Peter was now in his environment. "Of course I was sure of myself, because I sensed that your grandf . . . that you are a fair minded person, and would want to see fair play."

          Peter, not about to be compromised, especially by a frog, was quick to respond. "I told you I will be neutral so don't get any ideas, and don't you think you can twist me round your little finger."

          Frederick responded by lifting up his front legs displaying his two webbed feet.

          "No little fingers there."

          In spite of the situation Peter smiled. Perhaps frogs do have a sense of humour after all.

          "But I cant go down there."

          "Yes you can, just follow me."

          "But, but ... how will I breathe?" Peter asked, again feeling a little frightened, and also feeling that King Frederick was indeed getting the better of him.

          "Just like us; you'll be able to breathe through your skin."

          Only then did Peter notice that his clothes, soaked and clinging from the moment he had entered the water, had mysteriously changed. No longer restrictive, they had become like a second skin, soft, leathery, and comfortable.

          Just the same he was not yet convinced, "If it's that easy how come so many people drown?"

          "Ah well," Frederick replied with what looked like a froggy smile, "they didn't have my protection." and with no more delay he added, "Are you ready?"

          Everything had happened so quickly and unexpectedly, and Peter did not feel at all ready, but felt he was being pushed on by events, unable to stop, like a canoe going down the rapids. Frederick had gone again - a few widening ripples being the only evidence of his earlier presence - leaving his previously land based friend in a quandary. To dive or not to dive?.           However, the question became academic when suddenly he felt his legs held firmly and he was pulled down with a power his flailing arms alone could not prevent. Slowly they - for it was Frederick who had him in a vice like grip - sank into the depth. Peter, resigned now to his fate had stopped struggling and waving his arms about. Their descent was slow and gentle, and gradually Peter became aware of two things. First of all he was not drowning, and second, the new world he had entered was beautiful and fascinating.

          Over the years he had spent many happy hours jam jar fishing, or just peering into the water from above, so he knew that the pond was full of life. He was soon to discover its full extent and variety, and that there existed a structured hierarchical society in which Frederick, at least for now, played a leading role.

          With a gentle grace they reached the bottom, and Peter, finding himself released from the strong 'arms' that held him, felt his feet touch the swirly muddy bottom. They seemed to have taken a long time coming down, but in his new form he had not the faintest idea how deep the water was. The best estimate he could manage was 'very'. But that thought soon passed. These were new experiences for Peter, more than he could easily absorb in one go. To be in this watery world with the king of the frogs was one thing. But to be surrounded by a myriad of small life - and some not so small - Peter noticed, as a small shoal of fish hurried by - was something else altogether. Above all, to be there to act as some kind of umpire in a territorial dispute; an arbiter, like an underwater Solomon, was beyond anything he had ever known.

          Peter began to realize that he was indeed in deep water in more ways than one. He was going to need the diplomatic skills of an ambassador, the negotiating skills of union leader and the steeliness of a business tycoon.

          "I'm only eleven," he thought "how did I get into this?" He guessed that it was going to be tough, and possibly dangerous.

          "Over there." he heard Frederick's voice, and he turned to face him, astonished that he could hear. He did not answer, and only then did he did it dawn on him that he had his mouth shut tight, afraid that he might be filled to the brim with pond water if he allowed his jaw to relax.

          "Over there," he heard the words again, and Frederick was pointing, "under those rocks - come on." and with one mighty push the frog slid through the water, gliding elegantly until he came to rest on a little rise, with reeds gently swaying as a small currant pulled at them.

          He called Peter to follow him, but the boy was spellbound as he tried to take it all in. The ground beneath his feet was soft and squashy, and a little stony. He could feel the mud between his toes. His boots and socks were gone, considered inappropriate by whatever force was responsible for his metamorphosis, and in their place were long flippers. He remembered something like them when he was on holiday and he had gone diving. But somehow he knew that these were different. These flippers were not being worn; they were part of him. The water round his feet was disturbed preventing him from seeing them, but higher up it was quite clear, and he could easily see where Frederick had come to rest.

          "What are you waiting for?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

          Peter shrugged his shoulders in a sign of defeat, or at least of resignation. ' Might as well go with the flow' he thought, not realizing the aptness of the words, and he started to walk toward the frog.

          "Not like that." he heard Frederick shout. "You'll get nowhere trying to walk, and for goodness sake relax your face; you're not going to drown."

          "It's all right for you." Peter muttered through clenched teeth.

          "What was that?" Frederick asked, making little effort to hide his irritation.

          "I said it's all right for you." Peter retorted "you're used to all this."

          "And you will be too when you stop being such a cowardy cowardy custard."

          Peter burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. King Frederick using a phrase he had last used when he was teasing his young brother Jason.

          "That's better," Frederick shouted, "now do you believe that you will not drown?"

          It was only then that Peter realized that 'A' he could talk submerged, and 'B' now that he had opened his mouth he hadn't immediately filled up with water.

          "Ok, so I can talk but I can't walk. Let's see if I can hop." With that he preceded to cross the distance with what looked like a slow motion hop skip and jump. It was an ungainly movement but not unpleasant, and quite effective. So he was more than a little put out when he reached Frederick.

          "I suppose that was a bit better; but not much." he said. "But why don't you just stretch your arms out in front of you, lean forward, push with your feet and glide?"           

          "That's easy for you ..."

          "And its easy for you," Frederick interrupted, "you were swimming perfectly on the surface and you'll manage just as well down here, if only you will try."

          "Oh all right then." Peter said, feeling on the one hand a little angry at being manipulated, but on the other, anxious that he would be able to explore this new wonderland properly.

            Following Frederick's instructions he launched himself back into the space that had earlier divided them. Peter had been delighted to have rediscovered his ability to swim when he was on the surface, but that was as nothing compared to what he was now doing. From that very first thrust he felt he was in heaven. He slid smoothly through the water as if he were flying, though he was glad that Frederick was there to stop him hitting the stones after his first circular sweep. Without a pause he was off again, coming to rest only when his momentum was done, and then he thrust his feet once again, but this time with a rising trajectory. Without thinking he arched his back and twisted so that he described a beautiful curve high in the water, his body rotating as the arc brought him back to Frederick's feet. He was drunk. Intoxicated by the sheer exhilaration of defying gravity. Using a force which somehow came naturally to him, requiring little more than a swish of his feet or the flick of the wrists, simple moves, hardly discernible, which seemed to enable him to go on for ever.

          Frederick looked on. Negotiating this watery world was normal for him, and never before had it occurred to him to swim for the sheer pleasure of swimming. Such was his joy however, when he saw what was happening to Peter that he was soon caught up with the infectious delight of it and he launched himself to join in the aquatic acrobatics. Movement by movement they swam, performing a water duet so perfect it would have been a credit to the most expert synchronized swimmers. With spirals and dives, rising and twisting, they swam in perfect unity.

          They were flying, and were not prepared to be brought down to earth - in a manner of speaking - in the way that they were. Neither of them were aware of watching eyes until out of the gloom three shapes appeared moving from the darkness of the stones to the more brightly lit area of the clearing, where the light of the sun filtered through the water. It was slightly murky now because of the ongoing activity, but still quite bright.

          One of the shapes spoke; the largest of the three; the one in the middle. "Very nice indeed." it said, in a rather an aloof manner "Very elegant, which is all well and good, but I thought we were going to have a little tete-a-tete."

          Peter floated down to the bottom of the pond, his heart beating from the shear exhilaration of his new-found skill in this sparkling new world. It would take a long time before he would forget the last five minutes. Indeed, he doubted that he ever would forget. Feeling on top of the world, if such a thing were possible at the bottom of a lake, he approached this new personage with a feeling of light-headedness.

          "I guess you must be Giles?" he said.”