Surrealism: A Ten Day Indoor Frog Hunt.. in the Winter.. Sweet Success

I had to look up surrealism to remind myself what it means.  "Surreal" isn't a word that I use everyday.  I don't know for sure whether what I have been doing meets the definition.  But it works for me.

About ten days ago, a frog came to visit our basement.  He didn't have a room reservation, so he settled into the space where our sump pump sits, below grade.  It's a sixteen inch cube of space, lined with boards.  The bottom is small round rocks. He announced his arrival in the usual frog way.  It's strange to sit in your living room in the winter, reading, or working on the computer, and listening to a frog in your basement. This has happened once before, perhaps a year ago.  I think they crawl under the basement slab to get out of the cold, and then they keep crawling.

Despite the wonderful melody that he adds to our home, we made a concerted effort to get him out of there.  The sound is a distant sound, and not all that disturbing.  We try to get him out so that he won't die.  The idea of a frog slowly dying of starvation, or thirst, in our basement doesn't sit well with us.  It's the furnace room, so its pretty warm there. 

I am sure that he (she?) both sees me coming, and feels the vibrations in the floor.  By the time I get to the sump pump, he's out of sight almost every time. I began mentally develop a frog trap, but gave up because I wasn't sure how to catch live insects that would interest him in the middle of the winter.  In a way that was acceptable to me.

I tried to reason with him, to talk him into surrendering, but there is a fierce independent streak in small amphibians.  He wouldn't listen.

Last night, he began to serenade us again.  I quietly slipped down the stair and threw on the lights.  There he was, out in the open.  It was a moment's work to catch him in a cup.  He's now outside, where frogs belong.  Coincidentally, he changed quarters just as the snow melted.  Good for him.

I wonder what kind of stories he tells the other frogs.  Was his trip to our basement more like an Alfred Hitchcock movie, or more like Disneyland?