VALLEY CITY, Ohio — The average frog can jump 10 to 20 times its body length, but that doesn’t mean it will. Especially if it’s a contestant at the Frog Jump Festival.
Valley City is the official frog jump capital of Ohio, a title earned by hosting the festival every year since 1962. On July 21, thousands of people gathered in the small rural community to witness over 700 frogs jump.
Contestants gathered mid-morning to register for the competition, most with buckets and bags containing frogs, brimming with excitement. If participants didn’t have their own frog to jump, they could rent one. The goal for the day was to have the frog that could jump the farthest in three jumps.
Autumn DeWitte stood patiently in line outside the bullpen, the holding area for contestants waiting for their turn in the competition. Her bullfrog, Pinky, waited inside a small cooler, likely completely unaware that she was competing against hundreds of other frogs to see which could jump the farthest.
“We have a pond at home, but we catch (the frogs) at a bullfrog pond down the road, and then we put them in our pond for the competition,” she said. Echoing that, her father Dave added they feed the frogs in their pond so that they can grow to be “stupid huge.”
Pinky is certainly a big frog, and Autumn is a seasoned veteran of frog jumping. She has been competing since she was 2 years old, ringing in eight years of frog jumping in 2024. Her favorite frog jump was one from three years ago: “We didn’t do bad, but we did okay.”
Autumn confidently brought Pinky to the center of the parachute, a green circle where all frogs must begin their jump. Contestants are allowed to touch the frog while it’s in the starting position to inspire it to jump. Once the first leap is completed, contestants can’t touch the frog anymore — but there are certainly other ways to make a frog jump.
Autumn chose to slap and hit the ground near Pinky to encourage her to jump. Other contestants choose to shout at the frog, some simply screaming as loud as they can while others shout the word “jump” over and over as if the frog can understand. Some blow on their frog, some have helpers to make more noise and some have no approach, looking on as their frog chooses to jump or not. All techniques have varying degrees of success.
At the end of her three jumps, Pinky traveled 5 feet and 9 inches. While not an award-winning jump, Autumn said she was happy with Pinky’s performance, adding that this was her best jump with a frog yet. Now that Pinky is finished competing, she will return to the DeWitte’s pond, joining Herman, a green frog that was recently retired after competing in the festivities for seven years.
Frog spirit
It’s hard to tell what makes a good jumping frog, and in fact, it almost seems like the frogs are maliciously non-compliant. Many frogs simply refused to jump, despite the desperate attempts of their handlers. Some competitors swear that bigger frogs or darker frogs do better, but Dave Smallwood, president of the Valley City Community Group, which puts on the festival, doesn’t think much of these theories.
“Size has absolutely nothing to do with who’s going to win,” he said. “And what works (to get the frog to jump) at one o’clock doesn’t work at two o’clock.”
A frog named Sleepy Joe, jumped by Mat Malloy, set the record high for the day in his flight with a jump totaling 15 feet and 4 inches, taking home the trophy for longest jump. Mat comes from a long line of Malloys who routinely take home trophies. For the past three years, a Malloy has taken home the gold.
Marty Malloy, Cleveland comedian and uncle to the winning Malloys, said his family wins a lot simply “because my nephews know how to pick a winning frog.”
But not even an intuitively winning frog can make a repeat jump. The championship round takes place at the end of the day, with frogs who had the longest jump in each round competing in a jump-off. The frog that lands the longest jump during the championship round is crowned the grand champion, while the second longest becomes the reserve champion. Awards are also given to the frog with the day’s longest jump, regardless of how it does in the championship round, and to the frog with the day’s shortest jump.
In the championship round, Sleepy Joe could not replicate his winning streak, jumping far less than he did in his flight. However, Mat attributed this to a judgment error: his frog was “re-adjusting,” and that was counted as his second jump.
Like any high-stakes sporting event, spectators are glued to the competitors from beginning to end. Cheers when frogs make an award-winning jump, groans when a frog jumps sideways, gasps when a frog makes a runaway escape attempt and an “Oh lord” when a frog named Tastes Like Chicken makes its way to the parachute.
“Why am I so obsessed with this?” one spectator asked themselves.
There’s a lot to be obsessed with, from the diversity of the frogs present to the dedication of the participants. It’s a slice of small-town America.
Community spirit
The Frog Jump Festival brings in people from all corners of the state and even some out-of-staters.
“We’ve had brand new babies that come out with their parents for their first frog jump and we’ve had people in their 80s and 90s that have been jumping frogs since we started who come up to do it one more time,” Smallwood said. “(Frog Jump Festival) keeps the community together.”
Community is the core of the festival, both at the event and during the nine-month planning process. Each flight and championship trophy was sponsored by a local business or leader. The Buckeye wrestling team helped to put up the fencing around the parachute the night before the event and took turns measuring.
Judges were community members. Volunteers set out the Friday evening before the event to catch frogs from local ponds. A hay wagon used on a farm the other 364 days of the year becomes the Tally Wagon for the occasion. A labor of love for frogs, Valley City and fellow community members makes the event successful each year.
Rod Knight, frog jump historian, marked his 50th frog jump this year.
“My best day is when at the end of the day, I look around and there’s a family — kids, probably carrying a frog. Parents, grandma and grandpa. They’re walking out a little dirty, a little tired. Maybe a touch grumpy,” he said. “They have a lifetime memory.”
