As you might imagine, I was caught completely off-guard when, strolling through the shire one evening, a dashing young prince in the guise of a Blanchard’s cricket frog (Acris blanchardi) bounced out of the shadows and onto the path before me, demanding a kiss.
As you might imagine, I was caught completely off-guard when, strolling through the shire one evening, a dashing young prince in the guise of a Blanchard’s cricket frog (Acris blanchardi) bounced out of the shadows and onto the path before me, demanding a kiss.
BY KIERAN LINDSEY, PhD I say potato, you like potahtos. You wear pajamas, I wear PJs. And a rose by any other name, we’re told, would smell equally sweet. So does it really matter that we all agree on what to call an American bullfrog? “HELL, YEAH!” That’s the...