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Spring Peeper
Colour.—Varies from light fawn colour to dark brown, and may be yellow, red, or ashy in tone. There is a V-shaped dark mark between the eyes, an oblique cross on the back, and bars on the legs. (Figs. 170 to 172.) The underparts are light in colour, yellowish posteriorly. The throat of the male is brown. (For colouration, see Colour Plate X.)
Measurements.—This is the smallest representative of the genus Hyla in North America. Male, 3/4 to 1 inch; female, 1 to 1 1/4 inches.
Structure.—Head pointed, sharply angled along the lines from nostrils to eyes. The muzzle extends beyond the upper lip. The ear is visible, but is smaller than the eye. The disks on fingers and toes are prominent. The feet are only moderately webbed.
Range.—Eastern North America. It has been reported from the following states: Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, Ohio, Illinois, and Michigan. It is reported also from Canada (New Brunswick to Manitoba).
There are few people in the eastern United States who do not know the voices of the Spring Peepers, although they may only guess who these singers may be. If they recognize the singers as frogs, they are likely to judge from the size of the voices that the frogs are large, and sometimes they are loath to accept the statement that Peeping Frogs are tiny things an inch or less long. (Fig. 171).
We expect pussy-willows to usher in the spring. We listen for the kong-quer-ree of the red-winged blackbird. We do not have to look or listen to know that the Peepers have spring in their hearts. The chorus of voices greets us when we leave our suburban car. We drive from one suburb to another and scarcely leave on singing company behind us before the voices of a second greet us in front. We go by rail from city to city, and from the marshy regions along the track their voices sound above the roar and rattle of the train.
The call comes from low marshy ground in the open, or from pools and marshy land in the woods; from water wholly exposed to the sun's rays, or from the depths of dark forest swamps. It can be heard with distinctness at least a quarter of a mile away. As we approach, it sometimes reminds us of a loud jangle of musical sleigh-bells. It is somewhat difficult to isolate a single voice from the chorus. If we do so, we find that it is high pitched, loud, penetrating, and usually not trilled. Occasionally an especially enthusiastic call is strongly trilled. It is not exactly a whistle, nor is it flute-like; but it is more like the thin, sweet sound from a pipe. Each prolonged call seems to be made up of two tones, the first lower and sliding into the second. The first is pitched somewhere between B and E, two octaves above C, and the second is not more than an interval above. As we listen longer to the chorus, we perceive that the pitch varies greatly with the individual, and that the different tones are not always in harmony. Occasionally there is a distinct rhythm in the chorus, the calls are given together, and the pauses occur together. More often, however, the calls alternate irregularly.
After we have heard the chorus every spring for years, the Peeper is still merely a voice to us. Let us solve the mystery. It is a morning in the first week of March, with the temperature at 58 deg. F. We are tempted to a country walk. Here is a wooded strip of land between a marsh black with alders and an open pond. The Peepers should be here. The redwings are making a great noise in the alders. A few sprays of pussy-willow gleam silver against the background of the alders. On the other side, the pond is still largely covered with ice. But the woods between are very beautiful, and full of life and the promise of life. The dark trunks and branches of oak and pine are relieved here and there by clusters of slender grey birches. Low stumps and hillocks are covered with moss--spots of vivid green in sharp contrast to the surrounding brown. Two partridges fly up from the path ahead with a startling whirr of wings. We hear in the distance what must be the low croaking of a green frog, but, on following the sound, find it is made by a downy woodpecker drumming on a resonant sycamore.
There is a Peeper! The thin, sweet "Pe-ep, pe-ep, pe-ep, pe-ep," sounding much like a bird's call-note, comes from the moss and leaves at the water's edge.