My closest family is afraid of frogs. My mom can’t stand to see them, my two sisters even less so. My wife can’t even watch videos about frogs, no matter how pretty they may look. I’m not afraid of them. I actually respect them. I won’t deny that if one suddenly jumps toward me, I’ll be startled and some spasmodic movements will come out of my muscles.
But that’s as far as it goes. No running around or screaming like crazy. At some point in my youth, I was also afraid of them. That lasted until the day I understood that in Cuba there are no poisonous frogs, meaning that being near them or even touching them wouldn’t put me in danger. Besides, they don’t bite, they don’t sting, they don’t attack.
What they do is wait for some insect to eat, and reproduce. So I don’t understand why so many people are so afraid of these animals, or of other animals so small. Whatever we have of a superior animal vanishes when these little creatures appear before us. The instinct should be to remain calm, unshaken by something so insignificant to us.
But no, it turns into the opposite. Suddenly everything takes on a meaning beyond what it deserves. “I won’t go through there until that frog leaves.” I don’t care if I’m late to wherever I have to go. Life seems to stop in that small instant of irrational terror.
The smallest species in the world is the platanera frog (Boana crepitans), originally from Cuba. I’ve voluntarily touched it with my hands. It’s soft, with a cool but not too cold touch, and certainly very tender to look at. That’s what I say. I’m sure those fearful acquaintances see it as the devil itself.
I know people who have even studied a lot about these little animals, just to know how to avoid the possible places where they live. At this point, I think some help for the mind would be needed.
English isn't my native language. Text translated with DeepL
