Chapter from Froggy – Once Upon a Farmland
Froggy was done grieving.
He had cried all night for the reindeer Mama and baby both — lost to a roadkill rage on a Detroit highway. He’d planned to party with them that weekend. Roast marshmallows. Dance under headlights. Tell stories about farmland.
But they didn’t make it.
Mrs. Froggy tried to console him. Rubbed his back. Warmed his lily pad. But Froggy was inconsolable. Because Froggy is impact. And impact feels everything.
So the next morning, he hopped to Timothy the Counselor’s home and said, “We need to do something.
Let’s go to Lansing. Let’s go to the Capital.
Let’s go talk to Big Crash.”
Big Crash was the Governor of the human land of Michigan.
Froggy figured: If we go to Big Crash and complain, maybe there will be more speed limits. Maybe no more roadkill. Maybe they’ll stop hunting all the animals.
Because Froggy knew — if he could just speak, perhaps something would be done.
So Froggy planned to go. To the House. To the Senate. To Big Crash’s office.
He packed his baton, his grief, and his hope.
The Evening Before the Big Day
That evening, Froggy stood on South Washington, the major street in Lansing.
He admired the city.
Beautiful circles of light. Wonder. Clean lines. No horns blaring like Detroit.
He scoped the city, looking for his animal friends.
No deer. No fox. No raccoon.
But he could hear barking. And birds. Chukky-chukky sounds in the trees.
Froggy thought, Should I move to Lansing? It’s safe here. Should I tell all the animals?
He didn’t know there were deer downtown. He just knew he was at peace, knowing his presentation the next day would go well.
All of a sudden — an ambulance.
Froggy froze.
“Oh no,” he thought. “Maybe another animal has been killed.”
But little did he know: it was a human being.
Not every siren means roadkill. Not every danger wears fur.
Froggy said, “Okay, I’m going to go ask Counselor Solomon — is this a little heaven? Because it’s a little bit different.”
The Seat of Government
Before Froggy could look back, Counselor Solomon appeared.
Timothy, the Councilman, had been in Lansing looking for imagery for his book project.
Froggy asked, “Counselor, how come this place is so beautiful?”
Solomon smiled. “Well, Froggy. This is the seat of government.”
Froggy blinked. “Okay… how come there are no animals running around the street?”
Counselor said, “Froggy, Froggy. Just because you don’t see dogs doesn’t mean there are no dogs. There are lots of dogs. This place has all the animals you have in Detroit and Independence. This is the seat of government.”
As Froggy listened, he took in all the beauty of the city. The order. The circles of light. The quiet that wasn’t empty — it was governed.
He was excited. He couldn’t wait for the next day.
Dinner and Spice
As they were leaving, Counselor said, “Hey Froggy, there’s a Nigerian African restaurant. Let’s go try their food.”
Froggy wrinkled his nose. “No thank you. I don’t like spice.”
Counselor laughed. “Froggy, you’ll dance in a tutu, conduct crickets, and fight Big Crash for deer… but pepper is where you draw the line?”
Froggy shrugged. “Even impact has boundaries.
The Unshakable Truth
That night, Froggy slept in a Lansing hotel. No lily pad. Just clean sheets.
He dreamed of Mama Deer and baby.
He dreamed of speed limit signs growing like trees.
He dreamed of Big Crash listening.
And he understood: grief can become motion.
Tutu or testimony. Baton or bill.
Joy is not always discovered. Sometimes, it is lobbied for.
Tomorrow he would speak. Not croak. Speak.
For the ones who couldn’t.
For the ones still hopping.
Because imagination is real.
And if he could imagine safer roads, maybe Lansing could build them.
End of Chapter The Night Before the Big Day at Lansing.
~ Timothy Orikri (excerpt from Froggy—Once Upon a Farmland: A “young-at-heart” novel about restoration, second chances, and a creative, overzealous creature.)
