KINGSTON WHIG-STANDARD (Ontario) 18 October 05 The song of the peepers heralds the arrival of spring (Barbara Wamboldt)
There are those who declare that the cacophonous sound of spring peepers is a bane on an otherwise peaceful swamp. To some, including me, spring peepers are wonderful. I thank God for their creation.
Spring peepers can turn their call off and on like a light switch. They're sort of like birds that, high in the heavens, twist and turn in seemingly quiet unison. When they're disturbed, the peepers' song ceases, and the silence is so deep that you lose yourself in its depth. Then, from the murky edge of the silence, a lone, high-pitched trill echoes, followed by another and another, until even the water seems to vibrate as male frogs squeak, peep, chirp and croak in unison. They can draw you in, especially if you're a receptive female of the same species.
Pseudacris Crucifer, or the spring peeper, is one of the smallest frog species at only 3/4 of an inch to 11/4 inches in length, and it varies in colour from grey to shade of brown, rusty red or even orange. A characteristic dark "X" intersects the peeper's back, and random dark dashes mark the body and legs. Its underside is slightly lighter in colour. Colours mix and blend with the watery environment, making the little rascals hard to see and harder to catch. Spring peepers also possess tiny toe pads, which are smaller and probably less necessary than those of larger tree-frog species.
We enjoyed visits from tree frogs in the early 1980s. Now we're lucky to find any species of frog on the property. Likewise, after almost 20 years of not seeing hop toads (we once had a magnificent resident toad guarding our backyard), this summer a wee, dark toad about the size of a quarter appeared. I hope its parents and siblings won't be far behind.
Spring peepers hide in undergrowth along the shores of woodland marshes and ponds. Nearby wetland pools that dry up later in the summer are used for breeding in April and May. Eggs are usually laid in small clusters, with tadpoles hatching after three months.
Peepers eat small invertebrates and hunt in low vegetation at night. They hibernate on land. The water in their body freezes during cold winters but converted glucose flowing through vital organs prevents the formation of ice crystals and their death.
Their distinctive "peep-peep-peep" is heard early in spring after they thaw. Remarkable, eh? Folks lucky enough to live close to marshlands are familiar with peeper symphonies. They're nectar to the head or, as some say, "capable of waking the dead." Here's hoping, for I'd hate to miss the concert just because I'm dead.
"What's a peeper?" my children asked long ago as our boots sank in still, chilly, murky water where, I figured, we could find some of them.
It seems only yesterday that my grandma was saying, "you look like something the dog dragged out of the swamp." I'd arrived home from school wet and muddy with a peeper in my pocket.
"You get back to the swamp and let that poor creature go," Grandma would scream. "How'd you like a monster to creep up on you, catch you and keep you?"
Back to the swamp I'd trudge, apologizing to God and the peeper. Next day, I'd be back in the swamp again.
Peepers are harbingers of spring. They take me back to a gentler time when cares were few and time was endless.
Peepers represent the first audible presence of spring. Warming temperatures bring them forth. They're the earliest frogs to sing but certainly not the only ones. Even today, if you can still find a swamp that hasn't been turned into a subdivision, Mother Nature will put a troupe of peepers together and the air will dance with such brilliance you can almost reach out and touch it. Their performance is instinctual and related to reproduction. Male frogs do the honours. They croak or sing like crazy to attract females. Because there are so many different kinds of frogs, each has its own distinct call. The female's ears are "tuned" to absorb only the mid-point pitch of their own species.
It isn't easy to be a world-class, swamp-slogging peeper-picker. You need extraordinary perception, lightning-quick moves and an available wetland. You'll can use only boots and fast fingers; using a net is seen by real pickers as cheating. Peepers will peep in an aquarium but, as Grandma said, "how'd you like some monster to creep up, catch you and keep you?"
"But why are you writing about spring," queried Hubby, "when winter's coming?"
"That's why," was my answer. And besides, everybody loves frogs