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Mark Freeman Commentary Birds fall prey to bullfrogs in Medford man's backyard A backyard pond is Mac McKeen's invitation for nature to come visit, enjoy a sip of water and enjoy a little hospitality in Medford's otherwise cruel wildlife world. Yet McKeen never knew he simply was luring more and more victims for a pair of backyard thrill-killers he had coddled for three years. Ernie and Belvedere, whom McKeen had raised from mere tadpoles, had secretly been snuffing bird after bird that visited McKeen's oasis. They boldly had strewn the corpses around, yet always avoided detection. "I was always worried about birds coming in and eating our frogs," McKeen says, "not the frogs eating the birds." Until one May morning when a beautiful Bullocks' oriole visited McKeen's yard and ended up in McKeen's freezer, a victim of a homicidal bullfrog. Not killed by a frog for food, he says, but for fun. "People need to be warned," McKeen says. "My bullfrogs were no different than any other bullfrogs. I want people to realize these things grow up to be killers." There is a lot to realize about McKeen and the natural-born killers within his ornamental pond, and the message is as much about frogs as it is about people. In McKeen's Disney-fied world, a well-fed frog has no need to snatch prey it can't, or won't, eat. But in the bullfrog's world, there is no such thing as malice, cruel indifference to life or even guilt. Killing is like breathing and jumping and breeding. It's simply something predators do, no matter how many cute names and human traits like empathy and apathy anyone wants to project onto amphibians. And McKeen says he is not the type to fall prey to the Hollywood version of the outdoor world. "When everyone else is watching `Seinfeld,"' the 46-year-old McKeen says, "I'm watching nature." Disabled with chronic fatigue, McKeen could spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the television, but he instead chooses to spend much of it outside. Eight years ago, he and his wife erected an ornamental pond as a backyard habitat and a safe little oasis for the critters of north Medford. "That's, basically, what people have little ponds in their backyard for _ to invite in wildlife," McKeen says. Three years ago, he bought two 50-cent tadpoles and placed them in his pond. McKeen knew they were not native to Oregon, but he has had an affinity for frogs ever since childhood days spent chasing frogs in Bear Creek. McKeen named them Ernie and Belvedere, and watched them grow to the size of two Cornish game hens. Then one day in mid-May _ McKeen cannot remember which day _ he first noticed an elegant robin-sized bird come to his pond. A bird with a bright yellow and red breast, and a black mask around its eyes like a mini Lone Ranger. McKeen marveled at the beauty of this new visitor, a Bullock's oriole. The bird slipped to the pond's edge for a drink, and disaster struck. One of the frogs _ McKeen could not tell if it was Ernie or Belvedere _ sprang from the pond, enveloped its mouth around the bird's neck and pulled it under. McKeen darted to the pond, stuffed his arm in and clutched the offending frog by the legs. The frog let go of the bird, which floated to the surface. Dead. The dead bird was too big to eat. The frogs left it to float in the pond. And then, McKeen remembered all the other dead birds he found floating in his pond over the years. Once considered simply strange occurrences, he suddenly realized they were actually evidence of other similar slayings. "It was unbelievable," McKeen says. "To me, that was just killing for pleasure." "As much as I like my frogs," he says, "I would have killed them both if I had a BB gun or a pellet gun. But after a few days, I mellowed." But don't indict Ernie and Belvedere just yet. What McKeen witnessed was nature in action. What he felt, says wildlife biologist Simon Wray, is the "Walt Disney Filter Effect." Watching Nature instead of Seinfeld could not cure McKeen of anthropomorphizing his frogs. McKeen had given the frogs more than names. He had given them feelings no amphibian can possess, Wray says. "A lot of people have a view of nature in which animals think like we do and feel like we do," Wray says. "And when they see animals acting like animals they're aghast." Anyone watching bullfrogs can expect to see some killing. They will attack and eat anything from ducklings on down, making them the top predator in virtually any pond. But thrill-killing? Maybe in Hollywood, but not at the McKeen pond, Wray says. "That bullfrog wasn't killing for pleasure," Wray says. "That's just what bullfrogs do _ and they're very good at it." So good, in fact, that McKeen's bullfrogs killed a second Bullock's oriole two days later. McKeen found it floating, lifeless, in the pond. "I felt sick to my stomach," McKeen says. "That was the end of it." Recalling the creekside frogs of his childhood, McKeen packed his killers up and released them _ illegally, according to Wray _ into Bear Creek. McKeen will keep his pond frog-less now, and he hopes others will do the same. "People build ponds to invite wildlife into their yard," McKeen says. "But they shouldn't buy tadpoles. They grow up to be killers." (Mark Freeman covers the outdoors for the Mail Tribune. Call him at 541-776-4470.) Outdoor Journal main page Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA