Pibbin, smallest of treefrogs, is desperate to get help for his injured turtle friend. The other frogs warn him that the doctor lives a long way off. “You’ll run into snakes and that giant bullfrog,” they say. “Black Snapping Crabs might eat you!” . . .
“Am I too small?” Pibbin wonders. “Too small to be brave?”
Book 1, TALES OF FRIENDSHIP BOG.
Ebook has color illustrations, map, and reference photos of frogs.
Also available on Amazon as paperback and audiobook.
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
On a warm spring night in New Jersey, I listened to the Pine Barrens Treefrogs, and I will never forget their earnest songs: “Wonk-wonk-wonk!” A friend gave me one of those small green creatures to hold, but my delight was short-lived. I felt the frog’s tiny feet scrabbling against my palm, I opened my fingers, and it was gone.
I asked myself, “Could anything so delicate also be brave? What adventures might he have?”
The story of a little treefrog named Pibbin began to grow in my mind. He might be small, but he would have a large heart of concern for his friends. As I thought further, I decided that Pibbin’s adventures should be easy to read—for all children to enjoy—and I’d gather them into a collection: TALES OF FRIENDSHIP BOG.
PIBBIN THE SMALL
Chapter 1 Rumble Road
Ma Chipmunk had tears in her eyes.
“It’s Cheeco,” she said. “He has such a bad cough!”
“Is he sleeping?” Pibbin hopped closer to the little chipmunk’s bed.
Why wasn’t Cheeco frisking around or getting into trouble? He must be really sick.
“Please?” Ma Chipmunk said. “Please ask Sheera Turtle what I should give him?”
“I can’t find her,” Pibbin said.
His friend would know the best thing for a cough, but where had that turtle gone?
He hopped down to Friendship Bog.
Sheera wouldn’t be sitting on the lily pads—she was too big. She liked to nap by the water or catch spiders in the bushes.
Sometimes she sat on Woodpecker Log to enjoy the sun.
Not there. Not anywhere.
What about Sheera’s home pool? It was close by. Everyone came to ask her advice when they were sick.
No, not there either.
Maybe she’d gone into the pine woods to dig for beetles.
He hopped across the pine needles and over the sandy ground, but he couldn’t find even a claw mark.
She just had to be here, somewhere! He climbed onto a log to look around.
Ahead of him was Rumble Road.
He didn’t like to go anywhere near the road, but Carpenter Frog stood there, and so did Gaffer the Gray Treefrog.
A squirrel had come too, and three mice, and a rabbit with her children.
What had happened?
He jumped down from the log, but Gaffer and Carpenter came to meet him.
“Pib,” Gaffer said, “I have bad news.”
The old treefrog’s face wrinkled up, as if he were sad. “It’s Sheera.”
“What? What about her?”
“I’m sorry, Pib,” Gaffer said.
“No, not Sheera,” Pibbin said. “There’s a mistake. I’m sure there’s a mistake.”
Something deep inside him began to hurt, and he had to talk about her.
“She saved my life—one day when I was just learning to hop,” he said. “A hawk tried to catch me so I dived for cover. I ended up under her shell, and she didn’t mind a bit.”
“Yes,” Gaffer said. “I remember. She’s been a good friend to you. And to all of us.”
“What’s the matter?” Pibbin said. “Why are you sad?”
Gaffer turned toward the road. “You’ll have to come and see.”
Pibbin hopped beside him until they reached the edge of the road. He stopped.
Sheera was lying out there in the sand.
“It was a big truck,” the squirrel said. “Going fast.”
“Too many trucks,” the mouse said.
Her voice squeaked. “My sister! That’s how she got run over.”
“Hear that?” the rabbit said to her children. “Keep away from the road!”
Gaffer hopped onto Rumble Road. He bent close to look at Sheera, and she lifted her head.
“She’s alive,” he said. “Let’s get her away from here.”
Carpenter brought his wagon to carry Sheera back to her pool, and everyone helped.
Finally they slid her off the wagon and stood around to watch.
One of her legs was bleeding. She had pulled her head back into her shell.
Gaffer sighed. “I wish we had a doctor in Friendship Bog.”
The squirrel picked an armful of ferns and piled them onto Sheera. “There. Ferns will help.”
“No, that’s silly,” the mouse said. “Give her worm juice. But it has to be fresh.”
“No, we need to wake her up first,” the rabbit said. “Pour cold water on her shell.”
After a long time, they stopped talking and went away.
Pibbin watched them leave. Ferns? Worm juice? Cold water?
Sheera was the one who knew the best way to fix a bleeding leg.
What could he do?
Adventure, mystery, and wild creatures all play a part in Gloria Repp’s many books. She grew up in the Hawaiian Islands and the Pacific Northwest, and it was there she learned a love for wilderness that pervades her stories. Over the years, experiences gained from raising three children, teaching school, and editing have made useful contributions to her work.
She takes frequent trips to explore the New Jersey Pine Barrens and to collect website photographs and research material for her books. The lovely pine woods, tumbled ruins, and gleaming dark streams of the Barrens have provided both inspiration and setting for her children’s series, TALES OF FRIENDSHIP BOG, and for her novels.
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