late night visitor

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Thursday evening: rain. Not hard, just a shower. The real show, the thunder and lightning, had passed to the north. We heard it go by like the 11 o’clock freight train that rumbles along in the distance.

We were in the livingroom. The TV was on but we were all distracted, reading: Rachael, a novel; Karen Sue, a book on gardening; and me, an article in “Smithsonian” about who was actually the first man to reach the North Pole. And guess what? It wasn’t Robert Peary. He apparently lied. A major deception that the entire world bought because it wanted a hero. He wasn't a hero. The evidence strongly suggests that Frederick Cook beat him by a full year. Peary knew Cook, knew the truth and spent most of his time trying to discredit Cook's story. (Peary could give no real details of what the North Pole was actually like; Cook could.) But in the end, Peary's smear campaign worked and he got all the accolades. Cook died years later scorned, a banished footnote to history.

Back to the livingroom: lost in the reverie of the printed page, our individual distractions came to an end when we noticed a greenish lump, about the size of a bite of sushi—California Roll: cucumber, avocado and a bit of crab—appeared to be hopping across the carpet. Any greenish lump, sushi or not, is not supposed to hop across the floor.

Going to investigate, we discovered a Cope’s gray treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) had somehow found his way indoors. But how? We did not know, but froggy had come a courtin’. He did ride. What no sword and pistol by his side? Perhaps it was a girl.

This is their mating season, I’ve been hearing their "eeerrrrrrrrrrr" calls from the woods behind the house for the past few weeks. Let’s hope this one finds a partner. Now that we have gotten to know it, we feel we have a vested interest in its procreation.

-Photo: Rachael with Cope's gray treefrog

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lonely frogs

If the calls of the chorus frogs (see February 25 posting) sounded lively and communal, the isolated calls of male gray treefrogs somehow evoke longing and loneliness. It's a forlorn sound. EErrrrrrrrrrrrr!

As the temperature warms and the chorus frogs of February and March go mute, the damp muggy evenings give way to Cope’s gray treefrogs here in East Tennessee. These small (1.25 to 2 inches long) frogs are gray-to-green and covered with splotches for camouflage. They look like lumpy hunks of tree bark and like to hide in the shrubbery amongst the leaves and branches, often it seems a long ways from water. But all they really need is a little rain and a shallow temporary pool to reproduce.

The male’s call is a short raspy trill. EErrrrrrrrrrrrr! If it’s warm enough, you can hear these isolated crooners March through October, but the calls generally peak May through July.

Cope’s gray treefrogs are quite common in a wide variety of wooded habitats, even suburban settings with plenty of trees and shrubs for cover.

- Photo by my dear friend, the late Jim Logan. I still miss you buddy.

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