It has only been four days and I am already faring miserably. The pond water is filthy and it sickens me to see the larvae and such floating on the surface. I am still unaccustomed to being in this skin, as it needs to be consistently moist. Moreover, it is strange to be squatting all the time with my hind legs on either side of me. They were awfully sore the first few days.
What's worse, I have become a reject of frog society. This is probably because a few of them saw me attempting to eat a clump of duckweed the other morning instead of the usual dragonflies and midges, which I still haven't dared to try. And I suppose word spread, because none of them will even come near me.
Yesterday, a particularly ugly frog of a greyish color purposely did his business in the small open space between clusters of cattail, my reserved spot for resting at night. On impulse, I stuck my tongue out at him. That un-princely gesture was far from successful, for my new tongue shot out farther than I thought possible and adhered to a nearby tree. I swore I saw the corners of his mouth turn upward as he leaped into the water, and I cursed him silently.
Closing the distance between the trunk and myself, I held my tongue with my hands, a tricky thing to do with webbed fingers. Shutting my eyes and putting my weight on my feet, I leaned back, and miraculously but painfully, my tongue was freed, yet along with a large flake of bark. That took a while longer, and in the end I was full of splinters.