There’s splashing in the fishpond when I put out the rubbish and I guess the frogs are at it again. I find a torch and shine it over. Some of them are riding piggy back like double headed beasts. There’s at least a dozen in there – that must make it an orgy. A toad sits on the edge, winking at me. His ungainly body becomes lithe when he springs into the water. I watch the activity like a voyeur then I scuttle back to the kitchen.
In the morning, a Mallard observes the results of the night’s activity. Standing on one leg, he cocks his silky jade head, then takes a stroll around the pond. When he quacks, the female descends, spread winged from the roof. She’s like a babe in a bathtub, scooping through the weeds with her beak, throwing back her head to gobble spawn.
This piece of flash fiction was first published with CafeLit