There was once a boy named Juan. His family was going to leave Puerto Rico and move to a big city far to the north where Juan's father had a new job. Juan didn't want to go. The more he thought of leaving, the unhappier he became. Now, when some people become unhappy, they don't want anyone else to be happy. Juan was a lot like this. So Juan worked very hard to make his parents' lives miserable. He demanded this and he demanded that. "I won't go unless you buy me a new bike," he would say. "I won't go unless you give me my own phone so I can call my friends all the time" was also one of Juan's favorite threats.

(Remember, folk stories usually take place in the olden times, long before the use of computers and e-mail.)

The night before he was to leave his home and the friends that he loved, Juan lay in his bed listening to the chants of the coquí frogs perched in the trees outside his bedroom. He sobbed himself to sleep. In the morning he made one final demand of his parents, "I won't go unless I can bring some coquís with me, for without their singing I'll never fall asleep."

His parents knew that taking coquís from the island was a bad idea, but they were more concerned about Juan's happiness. They were torn between helping their son overcome his sadness and adjusting to his new home and kidnapping some coquís, which they both also loved. They knew that such a long trip would lead almost surely to a coquí's death. For several hours they combed the trees and bushes close to their home in search of these elusive, tiny creatures. (Fortunately, they had already packed for the move.) With a bit of luck, they captured two young coquís. Juan became almost happy when he held his new coquís friends, and he put them carefully in a shoebox he had prepared with many holes for air and light. For a snack he added a few plump mosquitoes, which were easier to find than the coquís frogs themselves. Finally, he stored the shoebox near the top of his backpack so the coquís could breathe fresh air during the trip.

That night, after a very long airplane ride and two taxi rides that almost made him carsick, Juan lay in a strange bed in his bare room in the apartment that was to be his new home, in an even stranger city where fog came out of his mouth when he breathed. The new noises of the busy streets were strange and scary. He had placed the shoebox with the coquís next to him on his bed. He lay and he listened and listened for the coquís' song, but all he could hear were the strange sounds of his new city. He knew they were alive. He could see them through the air holes the dim city lights reflected in their big eyes. But they would not chant. They would not sing a "KEE," not even the feintest of "ko's."

"Mamá!" he whispered louder and louder until he had awakened his mother. In the room next to his, his mother slid quietly out of her bed so she would not wake his father who had a hard day of work ahead of him. She stole into Juan's room. Juan told his mother what was happening in the box (actually, what was not happening), and his mother smiled sadly. She gently stroked the hair away from his sleepy eyes and said, "Just like you, Juan, these frogs love Puerto Rico. The old people always say that when coquís are taken off their island, they never sing again. I always thought that was just a folktale that your grandmother used to tell me, but I guess it's true." Juan thought carefully about his mother's words. His thoughts made Juan sad again, but in a different way from before. Now he was feeling sad about something other than himself. He had been selfish. Just because he had to leave the island, he shouldn't have made his poor coquís frogs suffer too. He slept but not well, and the next morning he asked his mother if she could help him find a safe way to send the coquís back to Puerto Rico. That very day his mother asked her new friends in the neighborhood if anyone was going back to Puerto Rico. She finally found someone, the friend of a relative, who was returning to the island that very night. Juan gave the man, whose name was Mr. Andino, the box and a jar with a few spare mosquitoes. Mr. Andino promised to return the frogs to their old bushy neighborhood.

For some reason sending the frogs back made Juan a bit less sad. He no longer demanded a bike (since there was no place to ride), but he still wanted a new phone. He didn't get it, However, his parents let him make occasional night calls to his friends because night calls were less expensive. When he called his friends, he had them hold the phone out their window so that he could hear the sweet song of the coquís. Within three months he had a couple of new friends in the city, and he was almost happy. But the traffic sounds of the city were never quite as sweet as the sound of the coquís.

And what, you asked, happened to the coquís? They are at home again, chanting their hearts out, serenading a little girl who now sleeps in Juan's old room. This story, which has as many versions as there are those who love and leave Puerto Rico, shows how much Puerto Ricans love their tiny tree frogs. You find live coquís in most parts of the island, but you find portraits of coquis everywhere–on t-shirts, postcards, ashtrays, hats, ceramics, pins, notebooks, cups, fabrics, and a host of souvenirs. You even find stick figures of coquís on rocks and in caves. They were carved there by Taino Indians centuries ago. The coquí chants are featured on compact discs, and some people tape the chants and put them on their answering machines so friends and family now living in colder climates can listen and think of home without asking them to hold their phones out of the window. This tiny frog has become the unofficial mascot of Puerto Rico. There's more to coquís than myths and souvenirs, and some of the facts are quite interesting and maybe even stranger than the stories themselves.