Home › Volumes › Frogs › Tree Frogs
Spring Peeper — Part 2
After the four calls, there is silence. Then the call comes again, and is repeated several times before the pause.
We search among the leaves and moss. No amount of looking reveals the shelter of this atom of a frog so eager for spring. The Peeper is still but a voice.
In two weeks we go again. It is afternoon, and the temperature is at 65 deg. F. The pussy-willows are no longer grey; they have developed into spikes of golden or green flowers, and are surrounded by early bees and flies. The sound of a chorus of frogs reaches us before we leave the car, although the marsh is more than a quarter of a mile distant. As we approach, and the individual voices become distinct, we are astonished that they are so loud and penetrating compared with the isolated calls we heard in early March. The combination of sounds is almost ear-splitting. The largest company seems to be in the connected pools about the roots of a tangle of grey birches and swamp-maples. It is easy to penetrate here. We step from tree root to tree root or from log to log over shallow pools of black water filled with brown leaves, grasses, and sticks. A slow painted-turtle walks through the shallow water, now in the shadow a black movement only, now showing distinctly as it comes into a spot of sunlight. But where are the frogs? The voices are all about us. There is one particularly loud one at our very feet. We look; we scrutinize every leaf and stick and bit of grass. It is maddening that we cannot see the singer. With our slightest movement the sound ceases. And so again and again. We finally retreat, with the Peeper still a mysterious piping voice.
Once more we try. It is the middle of April. The yellow flowers of the pussy-willows have disappeared. The green ones have developed into caterpillar-like clusters of green seed-pods. The Peepers are still singing in the marshes, but only during the late afternoon and at night. Let us try an open marsh where there will be light enough for the search. Here is a boggy piece of land that must be pasture in midsummer. It stretches into meadow on all sides. There is no difficulty in getting to the very centre of it by stepping from one grass hillock to another. We heard the chorus at a distance of many blocks, and it has continued as we approached; but as we step onto our first hillock it becomes quiet all about us; the quiet spreads, and now the whole bog is silent. We penetrate a little farther and then stand still. After what seems a long time, one Peeper calls far to the right. The call is taken up by frogs nearer and nearer, until we are surrounded by sound. This time our search is rewarded. We see one frog. He is so small, that, instead of its seeming strange that we had not found them before, we think it a miracle that we have discovered one now. He swims vigorously from a clump of grass to a floating twig, which to him is a log, climbs upon it, and is in full view for a moment; then plunges into the water again, and swims to another clump of grass and leaves almost at our feet. Instantly he begins singing, and although he is partially concealed by a projecting leaf, we can see his swollen throat gleam like a great white bubble under the level rays of the late afternoon sun. The transparent inflated throat is one-half as large as the frog's head and body together. It does not greatly change size between the calls, but collapses at the end. The frog's mouth is kept closed during the calling.
For some time we watch him as he sings. We try to capture him, and get only a handful of mud for our pains. Silence begins again, and spreads rapidly, till not one frog is peeping. We suddenly feel the dreariness of the place, the wind blows cold and it is getting dark. We retreat with the congratulatory remark, " At any rate, we have seen a Peeper!"
After we have seen one Pickering's Hyla at the marsh, it is not difficult to see others, especially if we take active measures and push apart the floating leaves and sticks of the shallow water. More than one tiny yellow or brown frog will swim out from among the leaves. Most of them will be males, since they far outnumber the females.
One of the best times to capture Pickering's tree frogs is at night. During the day time they usually call from the cover of moss and leaves. If we go to the marsh at night, they do not seem to see or hear us, and it is not as difficult as might be supposed to locate them by means of their inflated white throats.