Connecticut has an inordinate fondness for frogs.
So might conclude visitors with even the slightest herpetological bent. They might not think much of it on passing Frog Rock on U.S. 44 in Eastford, perhaps the state’s most famous and oldest amphibian icon. The roadside boulder is said to have been first painted its trademark green in 1881 by a state legislator and has long been a landmark. But exploring further, they might start to wonder after passing a similarly painted rock on East Main Street in Norwich and another with a long red tongue at the pavement’s edge along U.S. 7 in Cornwall. Such travelers might really start to wonder after driving over the bridge in Willimantic where four eight-foot-high bronze frogs perch on large concrete spools.
Gazing at so many oversized amphibians deserves an occasional rest stop and meal. Fortunately, herpetologically inclined tourists often have some choice. Until recently they might have stopped at the Eclectic Frog Café in New Hartford, which promised “good food naturally.” For pub grub, there used to be the Lucky Frog Bar and Grill in Willimantic. Fortunately,
Lamentably, restaurants are ephemeral and smart travelers check to ensure such businesses are open. But one need not worry about a decline in the overall number of frog oriented eateries. When one batrachian dining experience disappears, more than likely there’s another taking its place. I still regret the loss of Canton’s funky Frog and Peach and Simsbury’s Iron Frog, a fine watering hole where friends used to gather.
Even highbrow culture seekers cannot avoid Connecticut’s Frog craze. Visit the home of our most famous literary citizen, Mark Twain, and you can’t help pass a gift shop dominated by a large plastic frog. Spawned by his famous short story “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” the shop offers many frog tchotchkes including mugs and pitchers; ceramic, metal, wire and soft stuffed figures; pencil erasers and pens; pillows; incense burners; and even plastic Freddy Flip Frogs. Come late summer and
If you visit Gillette Castle perched on a hill overlooking the Connecticut River, you’re also likely to find a few frog icons. Eccentric actor William Gillette, best known for his classic portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, was fond of the leaping amphibians and kept two named Lena and Mike in a pool in the quirky castle’s conservatory.
Frog mania probably began with Windham’s Battle of the Frogs during the 1750s French and Indian War. Late on a hot June night during this time of high tensions, a terrifyingly loud and unrelenting shrieking, a banshee-like clamor shattered the dark. In this blood curdling sound, some felt the arrival of Judgment Day while others heard the war whoops of attacking Indians. Fear gripped a sleepless community. Some fell to their knees in prayer while others reached for muskets. Intrepid men fired
Seventeen traditional “frog” named places exist throughout the state, according to a 1976 publication of the Connecticut Historical Society. Though their use is rapidly fading as natural landscapes develop and change, there are still many places and roads named for frogs. Five areas are labeled Frog Hollow, for instance, including a Hartford neighborhood. Several streams are known as Frog Brook, and a few water bodies bear the moniker Frog Pond.
As a sign of enlightened environmental consciousness and concern for our landscape, perhaps we should vote one of our ten native frog species as a state symbol, or at least add it to the state seal (as Windham has done with its seal). With their sensitive, thin skin absorbing nutrients and water, frogs are indicators of environmental health. Diminishing populations of many species in Connecticut and worldwide are warning us about habitat destruction and fragmentation, chemical contamination, invasive species, global warming and other problems. If Connecticut has a frog obsession, maybe it’s a blessing that could be put to good use.
Adapted from The Hartford Courant, 7-9-15
