This is my little shelter.
Or, as was the case this morning, where I sat down with the folder to make sure all 12 years worth of work-orders for The Van, which just came back from an oil-change, are in date order. (I know, a little anal - OK, a lot anal, but it sure makes keeping track of things easier!)
OK, you see this guy?
This is an American Tree Frog.
Neon green and, though not slimy or wet, always cool to the touch, and with suctiony feet that can grab onto just about anything.
Now, you see this arm?
About ten seconds after I sat down that's right were that massive thing (all of about an inch and a quarter in length weighing about as much a couple of M&Ms) plopped down
from somewhere overhead, and latched tight to my arm with those suctiony feet despite some heroic flailing and whipping of said arm on my part.
Until I stopped flailing around long enough to figure out what the hell it was, it scared the crap right out-a me!
Now unless you have more than 4 legs and are fly-sized or smaller, the Tree Frog is harmless, so I sure am glad there was no one around to hear my eardrum busting toddler-having-a-meltdown-because-they-used-real-cheese-on-my-Mac-and-Cheese-instead-of-the-powdered-stuff sized scream between the time of the plop and the time I figured out what it was!
If we are issued a finite quota of screams at birth, I just used up one for no damn reason at all!
I can't be sure if the drop was accidental or deliberate, but I suspect that latter!
And within moments he'd climbed back up one of the slick metal legs and was perched overhead again as if nothing had ever happened. (Yeah, that's him giving me the I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look there in the second photo of this post)
Oh Crap! He's on the move again!