Yesterday's reference to a frog hunting trip gone terribly bad ("when Thurston shot his nuts off") reminds me of one of my favorite family photos:
I remember going on a couple of those trips and, at the time, gigging frogs didn't bother me nearly as much as it would now. However, I was too much of a wimp to partake of the frog legs after they were sauteed. Some of my kinfolk compared the little delicacies to "fried rubber bands" so I don't think I was missing much.
At this point, it seems like a profligate waste of innocent bullfrogs...but way back when it made for one hell of a photograph.