Scaring Frogs, Saving Culture

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On a bright summer day in 1976, 13-year-old Luc Carrière sets down his frog, and lines up its feet. Over 100 people intently watch as Carrière gets on his knees and moves as close to his frog as he can, preparing to scare it into hopping as far as possible.

Carrière slams his palms onto the hard green carpet, inches from his green Northern Leopard Frog, sending the slimy amphibian into the air, before it lands a few feet away. Carrière quickly gets up and pounces next to his frog once more. He makes sure to scare it from the right angle as judges measure each frog’s furthest distance after a combined three jumps. His frog has hopped well over ten feet. For Carrière, it’s a great result. Now he just has to wait, and hope no other frogs jump as far as his.

Hundreds of frogs were entered into the 1976 edition of the St-Pierre-Jolys Frog Follies and Agricultural Fair, known by locals as simply the Frog Follies — or more in character for the mainly French-speaking village of roughly 1,300 people, the “Folies grenouilles.” The fair has acted as a mainstay in St-Pierre-Jolys, Man. (St. Pierre) since it started in 1970 with a visit by Queen Elizabeth II. Every year, the festival is filled with singers and performers, a parade, and frog jumping.

When the festival started, most of the village’s population spoke French, so most visitors at the fair also spoke the language. But as the village has welcomed more English speakers, there is a greater need to keep French culture alive, and the annual festival is one way community members are doing that.

Today, most singers and bands still perform in French, aligning with St. Pierre’s history. Current Frog Follies president Roxane Gagné said keeping the town’s French culture alive is important and so is keeping the fair open and accessible to everyone.

“Culture is music, culture is language, it’s the food that you eat, it’s the people that you have around you, it’s community,” she said. “If you can really capture what [culture]’s supposed to look like, that’s what is going to bring people in.”

St. Pierre is historically a Métis and French-Canadian village in Manitoba’s southeast corner (about 50 kilometres south of Winnipeg along Highway 59. It has one of the highest concentrations of French speakers in the province.

Today the town has a smaller percentage of French speakers than when the fair first started. Gagné suggested around 90 per cent of the population spoke French during its first run. Now, according to Statistics Canada’s 2021 census, just over half of the town’s residents speak the language.

She said if it weren’t for festivals like this one, St. Pierre might already have lost more of its French culture.

“Would it make a difference not to have the festival? Yeah, I think it would,” Gagné said. “I think we’re hanging on to as much as we can of our culture.”

Gagné works as a teacher at École communataire Réal-Bérard, one of two kindergarten to Grade 12 schools in St. Pierre. Both schools include French instruction. École communataire Réal-Bérard is francophone while the other one offers French immersion.

She said she’s seeing the kids in her class involving themselves in the community through Frog Follies.

“Already I’ve got five or six volunteers for this year,” she said in early December. “We had to pull teeth to get volunteers last year, and already we’ve got kids coming up and saying, ‘Hey, I’ll help you this year.’”

She said the only way you can keep events like this going is through help from the community.

“If we can get our schools involved, and we can get more and more of the parents to demand it — to demand services in French, demand that we have this festival, demand that we have French bands, and ask for it. We’ll bring it.”

Forty-eight years since his 1976 first-place finish, Carrière has long since retired from the sport in which he won multiple championships. After he won that first year, he didn’t compete again for a few years. He had moved to Winnipeg.

When he moved back to St. Pierre a few years later, he and his frogs ended up winning three years in a row. He also won five times over a six year period when he was a young adult in the 1980s.

He kept developing better techniques to keep his frogs jumping far, including wiping the slime off their feet before they jumped, not feeding them before the competition, and giving them cool names for inspiration. He named one of his frogs Ben Johnson, after the Canadian Olympic sprinter (unlike Johnson, Carrière said his frogs didn’t use any steroids).

How did this ridiculous competition start?

People in St. Pierre first proposed a frog jumping festival in the late 1960s as part of their preparations for Manitoba’s Centennial in 1970 — including a visit by the Queen and her son, now King Charles III.

Manitoban officials sent the envoy to St. Pierre because it had the highest percentage of French speakers among rural communities and suburbs of Winnipeg. There are dozens of other French communities in the province, like St. Boniface, Lorette, Notre-Dame-de-Lourdes, and La Broquerie, who also could have hosted the royal envoy, but St. Pierre was selected, and village officials had to pick something to do. They decided to play up their French culture.

So why frog jumping? Because French people were often called “frogs” as an insult.

“The whole concept was, well we have our friends, our neighbours, the Mennonites, the Ukrainians, the Polish, and whoever else lived around us, they would call us frogs because we’re French,” said Roland Gagné, past president of the Frog Follies. “So, the [St-Pierre-Jolys Chamber of Commerce] says, ‘OK, let’s use that, and let’s invite them and have a national contest, and [they] can jump frogs with us instead of laughing at us.’”

The national championships — which they’re affectionately called by locals, as it’s the only competition in Canada — was deemed a success, with The Carillon newspaper reporting over 1,000 people watching the first competition in the town’s Parc Carillon, a vibrant green space with a field, trees, and canopy.

Over 50 years later, the competition is still held in the same place, but the town around it has changed. Now it’s next to a new play structure in the town’s core, near the houses and small businesses that give the village life — and sponsor the Frog Follies.

An interview at the first edition of the festival with then-mayor Fernand Lavergne suggested they were already preparing for next year’s version of the fair.

“’It was time we did something on our own,’ the mayor said. ‘Steinbach, La Broquerie, and other towns in this area all have their own celebrations,’” read an excerpt from the July 22, 1970, edition of The Carillon.

A week after the inaugural event, the organizers were already planning improvements for the second edition of the fair by getting sponsors and working on a better setup so spectators could see more easily.

Even though the Queen was only in the small village for an hour or so, townspeople who were at the event remember how big it was.

They included then-seven-year-old Mona Fallis, whom teachers picked to welcome the Queen when she arrived.

Fallis — who also served as mayor of St. Pierre from 2014 to 2018 — said looking back at the event now, it’s an honour to have met the Queen, even though she didn’t know how important it was at the time.

Fallis said teachers selected her from the girls in her Grade 2 class to present Her Majesty with a massive bouquet of brightly coloured flowers. She said she had to go through tons of preparations before she could take on the responsibility.

“For the next six months, I was prepared on how to present the bouquet to the Queen, had lessons with the ballet teacher, how to curtsy,” said Fallis. “Had a special dress made, and had my hair done that morning.”

She said even though she was seven, people around her made her feel like it was a significant position.
“I could sense I was important. That everybody was excited that the Queen was coming to our French-Canadian community and recognizing our culture and heritage.”

She remembers being told exactly what she should do while in the spotlight, and that it was important she got it right.

“I was stressed because I was told you would walk up in front of the Queen. She’s going to talk to you. You give her the bouquet, and then you walk off. But you don’t walk off too quickly,” she said. “They told me don’t run, make sure you’re walking slowly,” Fallis said. “So, I walked off the stage, and then, of course, as soon as I got off the stage, I ran to my parents.”

She said she can remember the Queen speaking French to her but can’t remember what exactly she said.

She added it was fun to have been able to be the one to greet her and said it was her 15 minutes of fame. Even today, people will sometimes introduce her as the girl who presented a bouquet to the Queen.

While the Queen has long left the flat prairies that surround St. Pierre, the original meaning behind the Frog Follies remains, showcasing their town and culture.

Part of that is keeping French performers in front of crowds at the town’s biggest park.
Roxane Gagné said while nearly all performers in 2024 could at least speak French, they didn’t have to in order to step on stage.

Some musicians, like fiddler Alexandre Tétrault who is from nearby Lorette, make French culture their vibe, wearing classic items like the ceinture fléchée, an iconic belt-style garment worn by French and Métis settlers. He also plays music written or inspired by where he’s from.

In towns like St. Pierre, the percentage of French speakers is dwindling, making it difficult to keep French culture alive. According to locals like Gagné, more non-French speakers are leaving the crowded streets of Winnipeg for the quiet neighbourhoods in St. Pierre, and more newcomers to Canada are settling in the small town.

But that doesn’t mean French is dying. Enrolment in the French school division, Division scolaire franco-manitobaine (DSFM), is higher than ever. According to enrolment reports from the province, there has been a 15 per cent increase in the number of students in the DSFM from 2013 to 2023. A new DSFM school opened in Winnipeg last year, and new schools in Île-des-Chênes, Niverville, and Steinbach have been in the works for more than a decade.

‘It’s barbaric’

While the competition has held good memories for most people, some people like Mona Peloquin are concerned about the frogs. She has been advocating to get the frog jumping portion of the fair altered for years.

“We just find that it’s barbaric, and frogs are sentient beings,” she said.

Peloquin said there are many reasons she wants the frog jumping portion of the Frog Follies to be removed.

She said some people might not take proper care of their frogs, and products like aftershave — which can hurt frog skin — can get too close when people scare them. She added that there have been a few instances where a frog jockey or judge accidentally hits or steps on a frog while it’s jumping.

The entire point of the competition is getting your frog as far as possible — by scaring them.

“Fifty years ago, I thought it was funny ha-ha, but you know, I have evolved, and I was hoping others would have evolved.”

“In the past, frogs have been captured and kept in jars, and they have been boiled over (in the sun),” Peloquin said.

Frog jumping champion Luc Carrière said he kept his frogs in jars during his winning streak in the 1980s. He would catch multiple frogs up to a week before the competition and place them in a terrarium.

He kept the ones who jumped the furthest and straightest for competition and released the rest. Then he’d move them into smaller jars to restrict their movement the day before the event, so they wouldn’t waste any of their energy.

He also deliberately kept food away from them, so they wouldn’t have food in their stomachs weighing them down when they jumped.

Competitors wouldn’t be able to do this today. Peloquin’s work has stopped individual competitors from catching their own frogs.

Peloquin said the Frog Follies are exploiting animals for financial gain — by drawing people in with frog jumping as an attraction. She said they could make new frog-inspired events, just without using actual frogs.

She and fellow activist Catherine Robertson originally started advocating for the frogs about 15 years ago when they mentioned their concerns to the Frog Follies committee.

“We’ve been stating the case for the frogs and being patted on the head and said, ‘Don’t worry, everything is fine,’” Robertson said. “Even though we have seen and heard of instances that it isn’t fine.”

The two collected signatures in 2019, which they presented to the Frog Follies committee. They got over 60 residents in town and the surrounding Rural Municipality of De Salaberry to sign their sheet.

“I love [my village], I applaud the Frog Follies committee, they do such good jobs every year, volunteers work hard, I know that, and I appreciate it,” said Peloquin. “It’s just the one part that I don’t appreciate.”

Peloquin then quoted Mahatma Gandhi, saying, “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”

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Roland Gagné — who is Roxane Gagné’s father — said they altered the festival for animal rights activists and hope the fair will be able to exist for many years to come.

One major change was hiring a frog catcher and making sure to keep the frogs as comfortable as possible during the competition. The competing frogs always have a handler by their side.

“The way we’re doing it now is really respectful, so I believe we’ll be able to continue now for quite a few years,” he said.

Darrell Poirier has been the frog master for the fair for a couple of years. He and his son Colten go at dusk with waders and boots to find frogs on the sides of rivers and marshes.

He said he’s had to learn through trial and error the best ways to catch the slimy critters.

“At first, we spent a lot of time in marshes, and creeks, and ditches. Couldn’t find a single frog,” he said. “We learned the hard way that frogs are nocturnal.”

“And so, me, Colten, and a friend of his, we went and found a really nice marsh, lots of bulrushes, the water wasn’t too deep,” he said, this time going at night.

Last summer it took them three and a half hours to find enough frogs for the next day, trekking by the edge of the water and looking for frog eyes poking out from the surface. They now leave their home for the marshes at around 9:30 p.m. and use headlamps to make their lives a little easier. They then keep the frogs in a five-gallon pail, with enough rocks and swamp water to keep them comfortable.

“It was actually a really good blast, you can laugh, you can joke,” said Poirier. “It’s almost like a sport, you’re hunting these things, and you celebrate when you catch the big ones, and it’s just so awesome.”

He said they make sure to bring a GPS with them when they capture the frogs so they can release them at the exact spot they originally picked them.

He captures his frogs on the outskirts of St. Pierre, but said he can’t divulge the exact spot. It’s classified information, he said while laughing.

Because they only capture one pail’s worth, the frog jumping has had to shrink in the last decade. Last year, only a dozen or so people were competing in the main draw. Most people who jumped frogs were local celebrities, like councillors and mayors, and winners of previous competitions.

Next jumps

While jumping frogs have become less competitive in the last decade or so, one expert says events like these are important to keep communities together.

Andrew McGillivray, associate professor in the Department of Rhetoric, Writing, and Communications at the University of Winnipeg, said from a community standpoint, St. Pierre should keep jumping frogs as long as they can.

He pointed to the Icelandic Festival of Manitoba in Gimli, saying it’s not so much about preserving cultures of the past, but using them to create your own.

He said a French festival might also have a leg up on the Icelandic festival because people in St. Pierre speak the language of the culture they’re from.

“Language would have a much more dominant role because we would hear French (at the festival),” McGillivray said.

He said while language is important, food would probably help keep culture alive even more, something the Frog Follies doesn’t showcase much.

“Fairs like this and cultural events … they transform and translate that culture and make it relevant to new generations,” said McGillivray.

He said he hopes this festival can carry on, especially if it can do so while keeping the French language, and unique aspects — like frog jumping — part of it.

Roland Gagné said if they have to stop frog jumping in a few years because of activists, the festival would carry on, as it has become ingrained in St. Pierre’s identity.

Activists have suggested alternatives to frog jumping, like river races with boats, or competitions with robot or paper frogs. Roland said while he’s not ruling that out, it’s not what most people want.

“No matter what, the Frog Follies brand is there, so we’re never going to lose that brand,” Roland said. “Even if it turns into an electronic, or a flight, or a river float, or whatever. Something will be invented to replace it.”

“It will always be a frog jumping activity, but it may not be frog jumping.”