Page from the Past: The Bullfrog and the Bullheads
From “Fishing in American Waters” by Genio C. Scott
In the annals of curious catfishing tales, few rival the singular account of Dr. White and his mysterious encounter with a rather charitable bullfrog. It first was shared in print by Genio C. Scott in his 1888 book “Fishing in American Waters.”
The good doctor, an esteemed physician from central New York, was known to indulge his passion for angling whenever the well-being of his patients permitted. One summer afternoon, as he rode homeward from a visit, a sudden shower refreshed the air and stirred his sporting instincts.
“A summer shower,” he mused, “will surely sharpen the appetite of the bullheads.”
Wasting no time, he hitched his horse under a riverside shed, cut himself a fresh ash pole and, finding a serviceable line and hook in his pocket, dug up a few angleworms before stepping into a moored punt. The bullheads proved eager participants in his endeavor, and within a half-hour, he had reeled in three, each one tossed onto the grassy bank with a practiced flick of the wrist.
It was then that the mystery began. As he turned to string his catch, he found—nothing. Every catfish had vanished without a trace.
“This is most perplexing,” he thought, resolving to get to the bottom of the matter. Setting his pole once more, he resumed fishing, but this time, he kept a keen eye on his haul. The answer soon revealed itself in the form of an unexpected accomplice.
No sooner had he tossed a fourth bullhead onto the bank than a great bullfrog sprang from the water, seized the fish in its wide mouth and tumbled back into the river. Then, when the good doctor caught another bullhead and placed it in the grass, the bullfrog reappeared, snatched the fish and repeated the act.
“The rascal is rescuing them!” the doctor muttered in astonishment.
Time and again, as he cast out his catch, the bullfrog would emerge, dutifully returning the fish to the depths from whence they came. Was it a case of misplaced benevolence? Some strange amphibious kinship between bullhead and bullfrog?
“The bullfrog could not have been gathering them for food,” he reasoned, “for the spiked dorsal and pectoral fins of the bullhead would make them an ill-advised meal. Even the voracious pike steers clear of such a perilous repast.”
Thus, Dr. White’s tale raises a most intriguing question for the naturalist: Why did the bullfrog help the bullhead? Was it instinct? Some peculiar form of interspecies camaraderie? Or did the noble virtue of charity extend even to the lower orders of vertebrates?
Such an affair is best left to the learned minds of the day—Professor Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz, the famous ichthyologist, perhaps, or some other luminary of the natural sciences—to determine whether this strange alliance hints at a hidden link between fish and frog, or whether, in some shadowy pool of the animal kingdom, kindness and kinship transcend the barriers of class and species.
A tale to ponder, indeed.
