On South German Street in New Ulm, Minnesota, sits a little pink house with two bedrooms and an attic, which served as overflow sleeping space for the younger kids once the offspring outnumbered the adults. Beneath the rarely used front step, an old cistern became home to a surprising number of spotted northern leopard frogs.

One rainy morning, I collected a few and placed them in a large canning jar, punching holes in the lid with a Phillips-head screwdriver. I added leaves and a couple of flies, then watched in fascination as they hopped and stacked upon each other in their new glass home.

Later, deciding they belonged outdoors, I set the jar on the front step in the afternoon sun—only to be distracted by another childhood adventure. When I returned, the frogs were belly-up, bright whi

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