The Coqui Frog Dilemma in Holualoa Heights

A Coqui Frog from Puerto Rico

      Over the last couple of weeks the palatial grounds of Casa Ono have been invaded by one or more coqui frogs.  Before we moved up to Holualoa Heights, I'm not sure that I knew a coqui frog from from a kinky blog.  Like virtually every other animal and plant that occurs at this elevation, the coquis are introduced. Eleutherodactylus, the genus whose members are collectively known as coqui frogs, have been introduced from Puerto Rico.  Back on their native island,  some of them are endangered and active measures are being taken to ensure their survival. These are small frogs and one clever writer notes that the genus name, Eleutherodactylus, is bigger than the frog.  As a matter of herpetological interest, frogs of this genus pass through the polliwog stage inside the egg, intra ovum as it were.  As such they do not require a pond to slosh around in while they prepare for adulthood. 
As they were introduced to Hawaii, in this case from Puerto Rico. I assume that there is only one species living here in Hawaii, but that may not be true.   In Puerto Rico there are 17 species in the genus.

     By and large, all of our introduced species get along with one another in a freshly formed

Its easier to kill El Guapo than a plethora of coqui frogs

ecological balance.  Coqui frogs undoubtedly fit into this mix and were it not for a single undesirable characteristic, they would go unnoticed by the general population of Homo sapiens  and there would be no need for this blog.   When Steve Martin, in the guise of the amigo Lucky Day, asked the people of the village of Santa Pulco what they do really well,  they looked at each other and replied, "We sew."

    Well coqui frogs sing.  One small frog creates such a racket that it can be heard for a long distance.  "Ko-Kee!"  This song is loud enough and persistent enough to keep the citizenry from a proper night"s sleep.  Not even Mike Lindell and his (expletive deleted) pillows could get my sweetie back to the land of nod once the coqui starts singing.  There is a neighborhood another 700 vertical feet uphill from our humble abode where these singers are so plentiful that no one sleeps and the citizenry wander around like zombies.

Your that guy.  The My Pillow guy!  Did you bring the citric acid?

   You might reasonably think that I am making an ocean out of a frog pond, but there is one aspect to the coqui situation that I have yet to reveal.  When one sells a house on this enchanted emerald isle, he is required to declare on the disclosure form that his property is free of coqui frogs.  Anywhere else, you must attest to the solvency of your roof...here its da frogs.  I suppose if you were Donald Trump (or his lawyer Michael Cohen) you would disregard the amphibious truth and check "of course not".  My law abiding neighbors, however, take a vastly different position.  I suppose that virtually everyone who lives in Holualoa Heights anticipates the day when he or she will face a situation requiring him to return to the lower 48 and, therefore, force the sale of their home.  Hence, maintaining property value is regarded as a holy tenet.

    With this in mind, there has been a modest war waged over the last two weeks.  Plants have been cut to aid in the finding of the singing frog.  Citric acid has been sprayed.  Supposedly the acid passes

When you hear a coqui its time to call in the Valkyries to defoliate.

through the pervious skin of the frog and he dies of acidosis.  Perhaps there is a frog ICU somewhere in our garden, where coqui frogs survive on itsy bitsy ventilators until their amphibious kidneys are able to overcome the pH imbalance.  This would explain why, two or three days after a seemingly successful spraying, the frog resumes his serenade.

   Citric acid isn't supposed to harm the plants, but that has not been the case in our yard. Many a monstera has turned brown and withered.  This is Hawaii, so as long as the cord like vines exist, new monstera leaves are sure to grow.  Yesterday, however, in the process of removing the dead leaves, I contrived to spear myself with the long pole pruner.  But what's an abdominal abrasion among friends where coqui frogs are concerned?

   So as of today, the singing grounds of Casa Ono looks like the DMZ and my upper abdomen is decorated with an angry red welt.  The Puerto Ricans claim to enjoy the nightly serenade of the coquis.  If only we could make that nasty disclosure form go way, I might learn to enjoy them as well.  As for Sandra, I have referred her to Mike, the my pillow guy.