Croak and Dagger: My Hidden Frog Obsession

Croak and Dagger: My Hidden Frog Obsession

Ever since I was young, I have had a strange and unexplained adoration for frogs. This obsession, which had lain dormant for many of my preteen years, has resurfaced into my life as of late, much like how the skittering frog (Euphlyctis cyanophlyctis) can leap up from a floating position in water: suddenly and unexpectedly. I do not know what triggered my love for frogs, only that my amphibian paraphernalia now includes four keychains, five plush toys, two specialist guides and one crude pencil drawing, courtesy of my toddler sister.

I confess that I had my reservations about choosing this topic to write about, out of doubt that the general public holds frogs in as high a regard as I do, in much the way that my long-suffering family, unappreciative of my daily deluge of frog pictures, certainly does not. Nevertheless, I hope that this gloomy frognostication will not come to pass, and you, the reader, will be ribbeted by my impassioned rhapsodies.

(I’m taking this hop-portunity to slip in as many frog puns as I can: do try to frog-ive me.)

Before we begin, I feel that this is an apt juncture to remind readers that beauty is subjective. One person’s precious baby may be another’s nightmarish glob of bug-eyed flesh. Fine. You’re entitled to your opinion. But then I expect open-mindedness to the fact that the common criteria that the frogs in my gallery of absolute favourites all fulfil are these three crucial characteristics: fat, ugly, and stupid. (Thankfully, these standards of cuteness only apply to my taste in frogs, much to the relief of my parents, who dreaded what sort of son-in-law I might bring home to them.)

With that, allow me to turn the spotlight on five of my favourite frog species, hand-picked and carefully curated to better display the glorious diversity that thrives amongst these little amphibians.

1.) The Mission Golden-eyed Tree Frog (Trachycephalus resinifictrix)

Let’s start things off with one of my favourite South American frogs: commonly known as the Amazon milk frog, these polite little guys are endemic to the Amazon rainforest, where their arboreal nature means they spend their lives in trees and plants. The ‘milk’ in their common name refers not to the pale grey-white of their skin, but the sticky, poisonous milk-like substance they secrete from their skin when threatened. Similarly, if you observe their stunning golden eyes, you may notice that their black irises are in the shape of a Maltese cross, reflected in their name. And no, the fellow on the right hasn’t been swigging Gatorade — their final unique feature is the blue hue that their blood tends to be, which can be seen through their skin, most boldly through their mouths and toe pads. Let me also draw your attention to the well-developed adhesive discs on the tips of their fingers and toes, which is both a typical trait of all tree frogs, and absolutely adorable. Look at them! Frog toe beans!

2.) Glass frogs (family Centrolenidae)

Forbidden gummies.

Say hello to one of the objectively coolest frog species, or rather don’t, because you’ll never see them camouflaged amongst the leaves. Glass frogs usually have transparent and translucent abdominal skin with a lime-green background colouration that softens the edges of their outline to blend better with the environment. The photos above show glass frogs in their camouflaged and natural states (left and right respectively). The photo on the right isn’t an X-ray — you can really see their heart, liver, and digestive system, among other organs. Their blood makes them visible when they’re active, but in 2022 scientists found that they can conceal 89% of their blood, and hide their red blood cells in their livers, increasing transparency. This, coupled with their habit of sleeping on leaves, provides excellent cover when they’re vulnerable. They’re SO COOL, definitely another of my favourite South American frogs. Apropos of nothing, let’s end off this section with a bad joke by me: why are glass frogs such awful liars?

Because you can see right through them.

3.) The Pinocchio frog (Litoria pinocchio)

For a tad(pole) of continuity, let’s go on to another frog that cannot lie — the Pinocchio frog, or northern Pinocchio treefrog, was quite the mystery to researchers for some time, as they went undescribed and unclassified for over a decade, from their accidental discovery in 2008 to receiving their binomial name in 2019. Relatively small, at 3-4cm in length, their size belies the impressive volume of their calls, assisted by that glorious whit of a nose, which can inflate to act as a sort of amplification chamber. They appear to be native to the Foja Mountains in Indonesia. I haven’t got much else to say because there frankly isn’t much else that we know about them, not even population number, except that they’re ridiculously adorable. Just look at that imploring black gaze.

4.) The star-fingered toad (Pipa pipa)

I chose to title this section with the above name because I think it sounds enchanting and lovely, and is far nicer than its other name, the common Surinam toad.

(“But wait!” you might protest. “I thought we’re talking about frogs, not toads?” Well, yes. Both are amphibians in the order Anura, and toads are actually a subcategory of frogs. Not all frogs are toads, but all toads are frogs. The more you know.)

Strictly aquatic, the P. pipa is unique in that it does not meet the typical perceptions of a frog at all. What do you imagine when I say ‘frog’? A rotund green thing with a long pink tongue and bulging eyes that can jump high, yes? Well, the P. pipa spits in the face of your expectations, because what I just described could only be applied to it if you’re visually challenged or delusional. Its body is exceptionally depressed to the point of being almost entirely flat, as seen above. It is typically light brown, with tiny eyes, and here’s the kicker: it hasn’t got a tongue. Nor can it jump, since its reliance and adaptation for an aquatic environment is so strong that it is literally helpless on land. I do love a rebel.

Oh, final note. You see those black bumps on that toad’s skin in the photo above? Those aren’t just warts or markings. They’re her eggs, embedded inside her epidermis.

5.) Rain frogs (genus Breviceps)

This part is more of a subsection than another point, because it would be impossible for me to narrow down any of my beloved rain frog species to just one favourite. In my opinion, every single one of the twenty species within the genus is absolutely delightful, and that’s why you should follow my example in obsessively Googling photographs and watching YouTube videos of them waddling around. (during your free time, of course. Don't spend too much time pond-ering the wonders of frogs and frog-et to do your work. Toad-ally not speaking from experience or anything, haha.)

Rain frogs occur in arid to semi-arid climates of Eastern and Southern Africa. They’re sexually dimorphic, with the males being much smaller than females, and spend most of their time underground. They can quickly dig and burrow into the ground using the enlarged, spade-like metatarsal tubercles (bone protrusions) on their feet, and move by walking and running instead of hopping because of their rather unique body shape and small legs.

What do I mean by ‘unique body shape’? Well, in diametric opposition to the flatness of the P. pipa, rain frogs are the undisputed champions when it comes to roundness. I present without comment:

The black rain frog (Breviceps fuscus)

Okay, I lied. I’m going to comment. How can I look in the squashed, plaintive face of that thing and not lavish it with the most extravagant praise? Above we have the black rain frog (Breviceps fuscus) which stands out amongst the typically light brownish-hued rain frogs due to its dark brown or nearly black colouration, but in other aspects is a perfectly standard specimens of its genus in its rotundity and stubby legs. They are endemic to the southern coasts of South Africa, feed on small insects, and are commonly nicknamed “avocado frogs” due to obvious visual reasons. Black rain frogs possess a wide repertoire of survival mechanisms, the most amusing of which is the ability to puff up with air and swell to nearly 7 times their normal size, allowing them to jam themselves in their underground burrows and prevent certain predators from pulling them out.

Now observe another prime specimen that exemplifies the cuteness of the rain frogs: Breviceps macrops, the desert rain frog. Native to the coastal deserts of Namibia and South Africa, it is known for its round body, tiny limbs, and disproportionately large eyes that give it a perpetually disgruntled expression. Unlike many frogs, the desert rain frog does not rely on standing water to survive. Instead, it absorbs moisture from the fog that rolls in from the Atlantic Ocean. And, of course, no discussion of this species would be complete without mentioning its infamous squeak. When threatened, it emits a high-pitched squeal reminiscent of a typical squeaky dog toy, or perhaps the shrill whistle of a very weak, whiny kettle. I urge you to search it up now on YouTube, and spend a few minutes of your day indulging in the most adorably pathetic war cry that will ever bless your ears.

And so, my amphibian adoration continues, unfazed by the bewilderment of those around me. At this point, I hope to have demonstrated the undeniable charm of frogs—the sheer diversity of their peculiar forms, each uniquely lovable; their surprising intelligence (or lack thereof); and of course the integral part they play in our ecosystems. Be it classically green or a vibrant hue, smooth or bumpy or coated with goo, plain or blessed with fluorescent glow, or shaped like a sentient potato, each one is special in its own way. I can only hope that this little dive into the world of frogs has sparked at least a flicker of appreciation in you.

 If not, well—your loss. More frogs for me.

Thanks for reading :)

Written by: Charmaine

Edited by: Lehan and Yu Fei

Designed by: Cayden