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HAZE Temp: 58 °F Wind: CLM at 0 mph Saturday, August 3, 2002 SECTIONS Home Page Local News Sports Business Obituaries Life Opinion - Politics AP News Weather Classified Archives Site Map EXTRA Cyberchef E The People Golf Job Network Headbone Zone Wellness Connection Movie Times Newspaper in Education Oregon CarZone Outdoor Journal Personals Prime Times Real Estate Tempo A & E TV Times W3 Magazine CLASSIFIEDS Find a Car Find a Home Find a Job Find Everything E SOUTHERN OREGON Destinations Automotive Communities Employment Entertainment Publications Real Estate Recreation Shopping Calendar ABOUT US FAQ What's New Advertise Home Delivery Classified Ad Contact Us Media Kit Jobs @ Mail Tribune Email Story to a Friend May 26, 2002 Medford's Vickie Shilts won this trophy, $750 and a year's worth of bragging rights when her amphibian won the Calaveras County Fair's frog jumping contest last week. Mail Tribune / Jim Craven ‘I’m frog everything’ Medford woman wins first prize at the frog-jumping contest at the Calaveras County Fair By BILL KETTLER Mail Tribune You may call her Queen Vickie, if you please. For the next year, Medford’s Vickie Shilts reigns supreme in the realm of frog jumping. The big bullfrog she named "Oregonian" soared 19 feet, 7¼ inches in three jumps, earning Shilts $750 and 12 months of bragging rights in a contest inspired by Mark Twain’s story, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County." Her victory last Sunday shouldn’t have surprised anyone at the Calaveras County Fair, where the contest draws thousands of spectators every year. The Shilts clan has been jumping frogs for the past 11 years, and they’ve finished in the money eight times. Two sons, Derek, 18, and Michael, 22, have placed five frogs in the top eight. Son Cody, 11, won first place eight years ago at the tender age of 3 — the youngest winner since the contest began back in the 1920s. "We’re just into this all around," says Vickie, who supervises the student support center at Phoenix Elementary School, where her husband, Pete, is a custodian. "I’m frog everything," she says with a laugh big enough to jiggle her frog earrings. "My room (at school) is all frogs. My house is all frogs." The Shiltses first entered the contest when the Rogue Valley’s economic slump of the early ’90s drove them to California in search of work. They had such a good time that they decided to go back the following year, and they kept going back even after they returned to Southern Oregon. Now the annual trek to California’s Mother Lode country and the search for the perfect frog has become a family tradition. Pete and his sons collect hundreds of frogs from local ponds during the last few nights before the third weekend in May, when the contest transforms Angels Camp, Calif., into Frogtown. The Shilts men row an aluminum boat through the darkness, scanning pond banks with headlamps, grabbing frogs briefly dazed by the light. "We always ask permission," Pete says, before they go frogging. "It’s a lot of fun out there at night. We’ve had five-pound bass jump into our boat when we reached out to get a frog." They take the frogs home and make them jump, saving only the best for the trip to California. "We test every one," Pete says. "It’s a good four-hour process to jump the frogs they bring home every night," Vickie says. The contest is simple enough. Each entrant’s frog has three jumps, and the frog that jumps the farthest wins. The winning distance is measured in a straight line from the starting point. Frogs that jump sideways — or turn around — lose distance. The fun happens when people try to make their frogs jump straight and long. There’s more than just the winner’s purse at stake. Anyone whose frog bests the all-time record (21 feet 5¾ inches) takes home $5,000. "You’re trying to get them to jump in front of 5,000 people," Vickie says. "You don’t just say ‘Jump, frog, jump.’ You can blow on ’em. You can squirt water on ’em. You can yell at ’em. You can scream at ’em, but you can’t touch ’em." Veteran competitors all have their theories about what makes a frog go airborne. Pete says the trick is to convince the frog it’s about to become lunch and then set it on the starting pad. "You stretch their legs before you jump ’em," he says. "That makes them think you’ve got ’em, and then they take off when they’ve got their chance — or that’s what they’re supposed to do." "There’s an art to it," Vickie says. "You’ve really got to know what you’re doing." After the contest, Pete returns the frogs to the ponds where they came from. Keeping a champion frog for a second go-round wouldn’t work, he says. "Once they get used to you they don’t jump as far." All the frogs escape the dinner table. "My dad used to eat them," Vickie says. "I remember them cooking in the frying pan. I don’t want no part of that." Reach reporter Bill Kettler at 776-4492, or e-mail [email protected] Printer Friendly Version Email Story to a Friend Subscribe Archive: Click to Search Mail Tribune Home Local News | Sports | Business | Obituaries | Life Opinion - Politics | AP News | Archives | Site Map E Southern Oregon | Classified Copyright 1997-2002 Mail Tribune. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy web master feedback A D V E R T I S E R S