Jumping croaker

Usage examples of bullfrog.

The cicadas and bullfrogs were stilled, birdlife was no longer chirruping.

In fact, this pain is so very terrible that it causes me to leap up and down like a bullfrog, and to let out loud cries of agony, and to speak some very profane language, which is by no means my custom, although of course I recognize the pain as coming from a hot foot, because I often experience this pain before.

It was blacker than the inside of a cow, he thought in his ponderous way, and having to keep an eye out for smokies was making him jumpier than a goddamn basket of bullfrogs.

Entering by canoe at Shark River, you would be among woodpeckers and mockingbirds, alligators and bullfrogs, garfish and bass, white-tailed deer and possibly otters.

Julia the wonder of that place: swamp oak and bluebirds, swallows and bullfrogs, white oak and birch, my own private playground for a month.

Somewhere in the abundant crop of spiky cattails emerging near the bank, a bullfrog croaked out his low-pitched song.

There was a sound, as of a locksmith's file, that Gentleman said was bullfrogs.

Above the whisper of the engine, the night emphasised its silence with the clatter of crickets and a throaty chorus of bullfrogs.

You can get their signatures on all the papers you want, but it's still a lot like making bullfrogs promise to stay in a bucket.

Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrogs.

Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron and Hermione's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed.

And then Laura turned to face the bald-headed grease monkey who stood about three inches shorter than her and stared up at her through his yellow goggles like a bullfrog.

The signboard swung in the gusts, invitingly torchlit, its prom-ise of warmth and comfort depicted in gilt letters and a brightly painted bullfrog with a tankard.

When I was small, WHO-TV in Des Moines used to show old movies every afternoon after school, and when other children were out playing kick-the-can or catching bullfrogs or encouraging little Bobby Birnbaum to eat worms (something he did with surprising amenability), I was alone in a curtained room in front of the TV, lost in a private world, with a plate of Oreo cookies on my lap and Hollywood magic flickering on my eyeglasses.

Even the night birds and the bullfrogs of the swamp had been silenced by that dreadful sound.