ribbit...and peep



male spring peeper, getting ready to call



Stepped outside this evening, stepped directly into frogsong, coming in stereo from all the lovely little wetlands around us.

Stepped directly into the sounds of spring, of renewal.  Tonight's the first night that the frogs are singing, a wonderful, endless chorus that happens only in the spring.

This is, like loon laughter, one of the signature sounds of the north woods. It sounds like home. It sounds like the end of winter, for certain sure.

You would not think that little tiny frogs could make much noise. You would be wrong. They aren't very big, these spring peepers, about the size of a thumbnail. But they create a chorus of music that is memorable indeed.

They are very hard to see, coming out at night in their drab brown and tan camouflage, but they are easy to hear. At times, if you are in the right place near a preferred wetland area, the sound can be almost deafening.  My mother used to laugh about one of her first dates with my dad. They were driving past a beaver pond, in the dark, and she couldn't understand why there would be a saw mill operating at that hour.  "Not a mill," said Paul. "Frogs."  She didn't believe him, so he stopped, tromped about with a flashlight until he found one. "See? Frogs."

During the winter, the frogs hide in the mud, allowing their bodies to freeze almost solid.  Come spring, they clamber up into the warmth, perching on trees and grasses to call for a mate.  Because they are so easy to hear and identify, and may be very sensitive to changes in their aquatic habitats, Peepers have been the subject of widespread environmental monitoring programs.

Long may they create noisy spring nights for us!