The trees are putting on their negligees, that sheer coating of delicate green leaves that accentuates rather than covers their shape, bringing the eye and the attention to the beauty of their form. Fitting, for this time of year when the earth’s fecundity is bursting onto the scene. Trees more subtle than the bulbs and early spring flowers whose blooms are fairly shouting “look at me! fertilize me!”. Of course the birds are even more exuberant than the flowers, singing for hours on end at the top of their lungs and often from the top of the trees. Nest building is in earnest, too…However, nothing can top the amphibians- especially the tiny little spring peepers.
Last evening as I was tidying up a few things after planting 2 raspberry bushes and headed toward the front of the house, I could hear them. The nearest marsh is about a half mile away, down the hill and over near Chester Creek. But I could actually hear the faint roar of hundreds of spring peepers. To be honest, I wondered if there was a marshy spot nearer than that; it seemed unlikely that I could hear them all the way from Creek Road. I decided to take a stroll down our long drive to get a better “hear”. It was lovely walking down through the woods on either side as the light faded away into semi-darkness. There was a peacefulness, a quite yet full feeling, only the last few murmuring of birds as they settled in for the night, and almost no traffic noise what so ever.
At first, near the top of the drive, you had to almost tune your ear to hear the far way but distinct chorus of the peepers. As I ambled down the driveway the sound became gradually louder and louder until it was nearly a roar. When you are right next to a marsh full of them at this time of year, it really is deafening! But not in the way that too-loud music is, or sirens, that make you want to cover your ears. Their roar is pleasant and thrilling, even awe inspiring. Such an astounding presence! Really, its hard to believe that these tiny beings can make such a loud noise. They are doing their part of the dance of spring, singing at the top of their lungs, too; “here I am! here I am! wanna mate?!”
theoutlawabbey 