Long but really is the condensed version ... while walking out of a south La. swamp winter of 1972, after a successful wood duck roost hunt behind a family friend's sugar house, I stepped around an sprawling live oak that had grown up in the middle of a 100+ year old dike. That dike was part of a pond bank that held waste water from a mom & pop surgar house. I had killed a large water mocassin on that dike on my way in that afternoon and was already edgy.
i took about 2 steps and then heard a screech, wing flaps and felt something cold and wet fall down in the back of my hunting coat. It was scratching me to pieces. I panicked. Took a hard left and ran screaming straight into the holding pond which that time of year was about 4' deep in soured "sugar water" that had been piped there from washing off the bagasse .... stinky as a muddy hog pen.
Slugging my way, over waste deep in this mess, I stripped off my coat to find a large and mangled up bull frog. After recovering my senses, my coat and my ducks, I slopped to the bank where I was greated by my brother and one of my buds who had heard the hollering. When we got to the truck, I stripped out of the stinking clothes, rode home in my drawers ... hoping not to get pulled over !! We three had a big laugh all the way home.
Cleaned the ducks and my brother hosed me down before taking a hot shower. In fact wife would not let me in the house until I was hosed off !! Man I stunk !!! Afterward, we all sat around and had a toddy ... still laughing about the "attack of the flying frog".
We think that an owl or hawk had caught that frog for supper .... it was sitting in one of the low limbs of the old oak. I spooked the bird and it dropped the frog as it flew off. Talk about timing !!