Nothing says "Spring" to me quite as much as the sounds of peepers singing away in a pond or marsh. On the farm where I grew up in western Massachusetts, there was a big hayfield of maybe 15 acres just above the barn and farm house. There was a perennially boggy area along the upper edge of this field and every spring evening we'd be serenaded by the chorus of the hundreds of small frogs that inhabited it. The appearance of the peepers usually coincided with the end of sugaring season, and preceded the return of the Barn Swallows by a week or two. There's a saying that peepers will freeze back in three times before spring officially arrives. I've never actually tracked this to see how true it is, but it's certainly the case that New Englanders are usually in for one or more cold spells even after the frogs make their seasonal debut.
The sounds of peepers singing were one of the things that I missed most about spring during the dozen or more years I lived in Los Angeles, and the 25 years that I lived in Tennessee. Not that Tennessee doesn't have its share of peepers [dunno about Southern California], it's just that I was living in town, away from any wetlands.When I moved to Maine in April of last year I was absolutely delighted the first time I went out on our porch on a warm evening and the air was filled with the marvelous music of a multitude of tiny amphibians, singing their little hearts out in the marshy area down by the river. Yes!
I don't have to tell my fellow Mainers that spring has been late in coming this year. We've had a long string of chilly nights, but I finally heard peepers for the first time this year the night of April 18. A couple of nights later, when it was enough warmer to inspire a larger group of frogs to raise their voices in peep, I went down by the river, flashlight in hand, and recorded a few clips of their efforts on my iPhone. By running one of the resulting files through my audio editing program a few times I was able to boost the level sufficiently to make it fit for public consumption. Thus, I give you 38 seconds of Eine Kleine Froschmusik:
I don't have to tell my fellow Mainers that spring has been late in coming this year. We've had a long string of chilly nights, but I finally heard peepers for the first time this year the night of April 18. A couple of nights later, when it was enough warmer to inspire a larger group of frogs to raise their voices in peep, I went down by the river, flashlight in hand, and recorded a few clips of their efforts on my iPhone. By running one of the resulting files through my audio editing program a few times I was able to boost the level sufficiently to make it fit for public consumption. Thus, I give you 38 seconds of Eine Kleine Froschmusik:
Bliss.
Peepers are, however, much more readily heard than seen. Not only are they tiny, and do most of their singing after the sun has gone down, but they're shy little buggers that tend to shut up if one gets too close. I honestly don't think I've ever seen one in action, and I recall my father--who lived virtually all of his 89 years on the same farm and who loved hearing the peepers singing as much as anyone--saying that he'd never actually seen them either. Well now.
Therefore, I have set myself the goal of not only seeing some peepers this year, but photographing them as well. To this end I've made a couple of forays into our woods late in the afternoon, early enough that there was still some daylight, but late enough that a few of the more assertive members of Amphibians Anonymous had begun warming up for the main concert later in the evening. So far I've not gotten even close to seeing any, much less taking their pictures.
Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk on Kennebunk Plains, a managed area that's only a couple of miles from the house. I walked across the open area and down through the woods a bit to a small pond that we've been to numerous times. I got there shortly after 5:00 p.m., at which time there was already a pretty enthusiastic chorus performing. The pond is a man-made one, with a dam across the small brook that feeds the pond. Upstream from the dam a bit is a marshy area, and this is where the frogs were holding forth.
By walking gingerly on top of countless tufts of marsh grass, I managed to get fairly close to frog central but, of course, as soon as I got near a spot where some had been singing, they shut up. And didn't re-start for the 10-15 minutes that I stood there. When I finally decided to give up and head back to dry ground I had a big "Oh sh*t" moment--looking back in the direction from whence I had come, I had no idea what route I'd actually taken through the bog to get there! Ah well...nothing for it but to sally forth and try to pick my dry spots again...which I more or less managed to do. More or less.
Fortunately, the frogs weren't the only creatures of interest there--and I'm finally getting to some bird content here!--as there was also a pair of Mallards, a pair of Canada Geese that appear to be nesting on the pond, and a nice Belted Kingfisher whose efforts to secure dinner I'm afraid I interrupted just by showing up.
The big treat, though, was watching a Palm Warbler flitting around in some bushes on the shore of the pond. I took a bunch of pictures of him, but the conditions were lousy for trying to get him in focus. I think I've hit on a new law of nature: songbirds--especially warblers--maintain their position for exactly a fraction of a second less time than it takes to focus binoculars or camera on them. Really. Their timing is uncanny! Nevertheless, out of the 25 or so shots I took I managed to get a few that are worth sharing:
Lovely little guy! I should mention that earlier in the day a Palm or two had shown up in the trees outside the house, along with two or three Yellow-rumps. So the warbler drought that I whined about yesterday seems to be over, or has at least abated somewhat.
After I left the pond and returned to the flat, open area of the Plains, the first thing I saw was a handsome Northern Harrier gliding low over the ground. An Eastern Meadowlark--my first of year--was singing lustily atop one of the many small pines that are scattered across the landscape. I heard some ruckus behind me and turned to see a couple of crows harassing a large raptor who was flying over the woods. I couldn't get a good look at the hawk because of the strong back-lighting, but judging from the size and configuration, I'm reasonably sure it was a Northern Goshawk. A female American Kestrel was also working the fields. I saw her hover numerous times, but never witnessed her making any attempts to catch something.
Not a bad afternoon outing. As for seeing, and photographing, some peepers, my quest continues. Watch this space for breaking news.
Incidentally, if anyone's wondering about the title of this post, this link may help. Not one of my favorite tunes--I like the title better than the tune itself--and I'm not enamored of this performance, but so be it.
By walking gingerly on top of countless tufts of marsh grass, I managed to get fairly close to frog central but, of course, as soon as I got near a spot where some had been singing, they shut up. And didn't re-start for the 10-15 minutes that I stood there. When I finally decided to give up and head back to dry ground I had a big "Oh sh*t" moment--looking back in the direction from whence I had come, I had no idea what route I'd actually taken through the bog to get there! Ah well...nothing for it but to sally forth and try to pick my dry spots again...which I more or less managed to do. More or less.
Fortunately, the frogs weren't the only creatures of interest there--and I'm finally getting to some bird content here!--as there was also a pair of Mallards, a pair of Canada Geese that appear to be nesting on the pond, and a nice Belted Kingfisher whose efforts to secure dinner I'm afraid I interrupted just by showing up.
The big treat, though, was watching a Palm Warbler flitting around in some bushes on the shore of the pond. I took a bunch of pictures of him, but the conditions were lousy for trying to get him in focus. I think I've hit on a new law of nature: songbirds--especially warblers--maintain their position for exactly a fraction of a second less time than it takes to focus binoculars or camera on them. Really. Their timing is uncanny! Nevertheless, out of the 25 or so shots I took I managed to get a few that are worth sharing:
Lovely little guy! I should mention that earlier in the day a Palm or two had shown up in the trees outside the house, along with two or three Yellow-rumps. So the warbler drought that I whined about yesterday seems to be over, or has at least abated somewhat.
After I left the pond and returned to the flat, open area of the Plains, the first thing I saw was a handsome Northern Harrier gliding low over the ground. An Eastern Meadowlark--my first of year--was singing lustily atop one of the many small pines that are scattered across the landscape. I heard some ruckus behind me and turned to see a couple of crows harassing a large raptor who was flying over the woods. I couldn't get a good look at the hawk because of the strong back-lighting, but judging from the size and configuration, I'm reasonably sure it was a Northern Goshawk. A female American Kestrel was also working the fields. I saw her hover numerous times, but never witnessed her making any attempts to catch something.
Not a bad afternoon outing. As for seeing, and photographing, some peepers, my quest continues. Watch this space for breaking news.
Incidentally, if anyone's wondering about the title of this post, this link may help. Not one of my favorite tunes--I like the title better than the tune itself--and I'm not enamored of this performance, but so be it.
