A Ribbit in Time

"So," Larry said.  "How do you believe in evolution, when nobody has actually seen an animal 'evolving'?"

"We've seen the outcomes of animals evolving,"  Julie said.  "Little bird that have fat beaks and can't get into little cracks in the wood to get the bug they want for lunch.  Couple of generations late, maybe ten or twelve, the beaks get skinnier and sharper.  That's sorta of how it works."

"But," Marcus said.  "We didn't have a theory of evolution in Rome.  But we figured out that you had to grow and change, or else you died.  Or your species did.  That much was pretty clear."

"Who says,"  Larry continued.  "That we're as evolved as people are gonna get.  That's we're the best we can be.   Or ever will be."

"Then we're in big trouble," Cheryl said,  grinning a little bit.

"I think my Dad," Omega said.  "loves you however you come, fat beak and all."

Everybody was on an island in a little river, more of a creek.  They'd been able to wade, and they made a camp fire and were toasting marshmallows.  Now they were sitting around the fire as the day dimmed into dusk.  Larry looked at the sand beside him.  He'd sensed movement and as he looked to see what it was, he heard a little croak.  A little frog was crouched in the sand beside him, looking at Larry with big eyes and a wild tongue that shot out a grabbed flies.

"So, you needed a long tongue, more than you needed wings or an adult tail?"  Larry asked.

"Ribbit,"  the little frog said.

"I remember a song from church camp when I was a little kid,"  Cheryl said.

"What that?"  Larry asked.

"My froggie he am a queer bird.  He ain't got not tail almost hardly.  He run and he yump and he land on his sit, where he ain't got no tail almost hardly," Cheryl warbled.

"Ribbit.  Ribbit."

And the little frog jumped into the darkening shadows along the bay, leaving little ripples where he had been..

"I wonder what he might  need next?"  Larry asked.