Pardon me, but you’re probably pondering: why aren’t I pondering the meaning of life beside The Pondering Frog? A perfectly ponderable puzzle, my perceptive pal.
The four-metre-tall pontificator is perched outside The Pondering Frog café, which is a hop, skip and a jump from beautiful Bicheno, on Tasmania’s east coast. With his comical bug eyes and pompous expression, this gentle giant appears lost in quiet contemplation.
He is, perhaps, the thinking man’s Big Thing.
The altitudinous amphibian was the passion project of the café’s original owner, Collette Dieren, who was toad-ally frog-sessed with frogs. Wanting to promote her business, she tapped local lad Mark Trigg to design something BIG.
Well, what better way to promote your business than appearing on Land of the Bigs?
Tony Yunk from Y-Not Fibreglass completed the (surprise, surprise) fibreglassing, whilst Aaron Reader took care of the metal frame.Teamwork makes the green work!
The Pondering Frog was installed to much fanfare in April of 2023, right next to the café’s beloved frog-shaped slide – which is perfect for the tadpoles!
There are leaps – oops, I mean heaps! – of froggy trinkets on sale inside the shop. They also have some pretty special beers in the fridge – but they were a bit too hoppy for me.
So grab a frogaccino and park yourself at one of the outdoor tables to admire this thoughtful giant (if the weather Kermits, of course).
The Ponder Years
A pale polish of precipitation descended upon Bicheno as Bigella, Little Peter Poppins and moi pranced into The Pondering Frog. The café, that is, not the statue – it would get a bit cramped in there.
Moments later, a smartly-dressed waitress set down plates of frogalicious food. Honey chicken for myself and seafood chowder for Bigella. Peter, not surprisingly, went for the legendary garlic prawns.
“This has been an un-frog-ettable stopover,” I smirked, popping a tender morsel into my mouth. Bigella, for some reason, didn’t buckle over in fits of laughter, so I said it again – a little louder this time. “An un-FROG-ettable stopover.”
“You don’t have to ribbit yourself,” Bigella sighed. “And anyway, you copied that joke word-for-word from the café’s website. You could call it polliwog-giarism.”
“Ouch,” I gasped. “Your words hurt, but I appreciate the croak. Oops, I mean the joke! What’s wrong, toots?”
“Bigs, you know I love oversized roadside attractions, but sometimes…”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes I’d like to see something other than Big Things. Tasmania is awash with waterfalls and animals and mountains and restaurants, but we’ve spent the entire trip racing from The Big Globe to The Big Axe to The Big Blue Head. We didn’t even get to see any penguins because you were too busy taking photos of The Big Penguin.”
“We’re on a tight schedule,” I bristled. “We could’ve either gone on the helicopter tour of Wineglass Bay, with a six-course degustation dinner, or seen a big concrete frog. I’m comfortable with my decision.”
Bigella ladelled chowder into her mouth, smiled, and peered out at The Pondering Frog. “You’re right, Bigs. This is exactly where I want to be.”
“That’s the beauty of Big Things,” Peter pipped, plucking a prawn from his plate. “They take us to places we never would have visited otherwise. They’re magical like that.” Every head in the room nodded solemnly.
“Well, we’d better hop to it,” I grinned froggishly. “That dragon in St Helens won’t photograph herself.”
“Yes, it’s time to hit the frog and toad,” Bigella shrugged. “Can we see the Bay of Fires on the way? I’ve dreamed of going there since I was a little girl.”
“Probably won’t get a chance to if we want to make it to The Big Thumbs-Up before sunset,” I snorted. “But you can look up those fires or whatever they are on YouTube when we get home.”
“Oh Bigs,” my companion gasped. “Sometimes I ponder why I put up with you!”
