Around this time of year, the Pacific tree frogs come into full chorus. It is an outrageous sound, a zillion chirpy splendiforous croaks of the tiny one-inch frogs' mating season. There's a lake in Wapato Greenway park nearby where for probably the last decade or more a few of us have gone out after dark by moonlight to hear the frogs at their most magnificent. We try to wait if we can for an evening that's warm and better yet, with a full moon, but even without the perfect conditions we give it a go. We park at a friend's and hike by flashlight close to the water's edge. We stand quietly -- reverently, really -- and cup our hands behind our ears to magnify the sound. It's extravagantly wonderful. Each year we remind each other how the sound comes from a sac under the male frog's throat. We have stood in the full moon; we have stood, like this year, without the moon but a sky brilliant with stars; and we have stood chattering in the pouring rain. This year four of us went, and as a nod to technology, three of us had iPhones and recorded the sound. If anyone knows how to add a sound attachment to a blog, let me know and you'll be able to hear it somewhat too. When we get back to the moorage, we can hear a distant semblance of the frog chorus from the wetlands at Burlington Bottoms across the Channel.
photo nbc news
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