Mike North: Frog gigging with a side of fried chicken

When the weather clouds up and gets colder, hunting winds down for some common big-game animals I go after such as deer and bear, and it also marks the end of some more fun I've gotten into.

My dad introduced me to frog gigging this year. I could immediately tell that it'd be another activity to add to my outdoor repertoire.

I'm not sure if frog gigging qualifies more as fishing or hunting. You need a fishing license to do it, but certain parts of the experience are similar to hunting.

Before my first trip out this past summer, I wasn't sure what to expect when my dad suggested we go. I've heard a lot of stories about him and his buddies frogging the area around Merced years ago. It sounded fun, but didn't seem like a sport many people take part in.

That's never fazed me before. Our plans were set.

When my dad rolled into Merced, I was just getting off work.

I met him at my place, read over my stories a couple more times for the next day's paper, and we loaded gear in my truck while we waited for the sun to set.

We packed some high-powered flashlights, a cooler and two extendable gigs, which have sharp prongs on the end for sticking frogs.

Once the sun left, so did we.

As we headed for Highway 59, my dad's directions led us into the drive-through of a KFC.

I asked him why we were taking the time to wait for fast food when we should be frogging.

He told me it was tradition and that I shouldn't question tradition.

I suppose gigging frogs just isn't as classy without some fried chicken to munch on.

While finishing up our greasy hors d'oeuvres, we found some prime canals along Highway 152.

AFTER quick briefing on the finer points of frog gigging, we set out to get some.

My dad walked one side of the canal while I walked the other side. Each of us shined our light across looking for the eyes of the big bullfrogs.

Finally, my dad spotted a nice one. Based on how far its eyes were spaced apart, he knew it was big enough to take.

I slowly crept to the edge of the bank, spied the frog, inched my gig close to his back and thrust down as hard as I could without falling into the water.

The frog went through the water and into the mud of the canal, but I got my first frog the same way I got my first buck more than 10 years ago -- on the first try.

We kept going until about 4 a.m. By then it was time to clean our haul and put them on ice.

I SLEPT in late the next morning, and when I finally got out of bed my dad was in the kitchen dipping the frog legs in flour and heating up some olive oil in a skillet.

I ate them as fast as he could cook them.

The best way I can describe the taste is a cross between chicken and rattlesnake.

And if that description doesn't help you imagine the taste, you need more rattlesnake in your diet.

We enjoyed a memorable weekend until I got in my truck to head for work when Monday rolled around. It was then I realized I'd left the potato salad we got from KFC in my truck.

Needless to say, an open container of potato salad shut inside a truck in the middle of summer in Merced is not a good combination.

Hopefully, my dad and I will continue our frog gigging adventures next summer, but maybe we can break the fried chicken tradition.

Reporter Mike North can be reached at (209) 385-2453 or mnorth@mercedsun-star.com.

This story was originally published January 4, 2011 at 5:53 AM with the headline "Mike North: Frog gigging with a side of fried chicken."