Errrrrrghhh! Not again!

We have a frog out at our little backyard waterfalls.  Or at least, we used to have a frog.  Every day at certain times of the day it would start croaking, at a sound magnitude that one would expect from a small dinosaur.  But we liked it anyway.  We were happy he had moved in.  He was OUR frog.

That is, until recently when we noticed we weren't hearing his croaking any more.  We talked among ourselves, the hubby, son and I, and agreed that no, none of us had heard the frog lately.  We scratched our heads and theorized that a large bird had perhaps swooped down and "removed" him.

Today, though, I KNOW what happened:
 <------- This guy moved in.

I suspect the frog was his lunch one fateful day.  

I do not want to encourage these behaviors.  I've always taught my children to be nice to their friends, and certainly not to dine on them.

So.

Here he is just making himself at home near our rocks and waterfalls.

Do you see him?

Here's a better look.  There he sits, acting like this is his home, not paying rent, just a darn old squatter:

 

I decided to call in our local Livestock Retrieval/Removal/Relocation/Repurposing Team (son Caleb), and he handily took care of business.

Do I see a flattened frog-shaped lump in that belly?

That last picture was safely taken through our back door window.  Door locked of course.  Sometimes I do not trust my son.  Notice our roofing crew seems glad it is going, too.
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I know snakes are good for the environment, they keep other pests at bay, they decrease the bug population, and blah, blah, blah.  Sorry Bruce, sorry Dizzy Dick.  I. Don't.  Like.  Them.

This is my living space and they are not welcome here.  Goodbye.

I've got a feeling this adventure is not in its last chapter, though.  The neighbor two doors up told us he had three in his garden the other day. 

Ugh.