The raucous party ran on past midnight last night so I couldn't quite believe it when I heard the first shrill suggestion that it might begin again before dawn. After all that racket last night, I thought, they can't possibly have any energy left to start partying again at 5:57 a.m. But they do and they did.
I'm not sure how long this party has been going on, but I know this is the first time since we moved to the woods that the weather has been warm enough this early in the season to allow open windows all night long. Probably the party has been cranked up full blast every year at this time but we slept right through it. This spring, though, we can't ignore the mating call of the frog.
What kind of frog? I wish I could tell you. I know three things about them: they are abundant, persistent, and very, very loud.
I also know that the insistent spring call comes from male frogs hoping to attract mates, who are hopelessly attracted to the piercing peeps. If you stood in a singles bar and honked an air horn over and over all night long you wouldn't expect to find women lining up to have your babies, but apparently frogs think differently. If they think at all.
I think I'd like to see the creatures that have been disturbing the peace for the past week, so I spent an hour or so tromping around the woods along our creek. I saw plenty of signs of spring--daffodils and forsythia blooming, towhees in the trees and a great blue heron flying overhead, green buds on the trees and green shoots popping up in the woods, and up near the house more towhees and bluejays and Carolina wrens and a lone cowbird poking its head out from behind a feeder, but I didn't see a single frog.
Judging by the sound, we could have a veritable Mormon Tabernacle Choir of frogs singing their fool heads off out there, but during the day they may as well be invisible. Maybe I need to do my frog-hunting while the party is in full swing. I've never received an invitation, but I intend to crash this peeping party--as soon as I find a reliable flashlight.