tree frogs Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Treefrog

As Spartacus and I were walking the other day, I noticed him run up to something at the edge of the road and immediately jump back. I figured it was a cicada, since they’re appearing in greater and greater numbers. But Spart tends to gobble them up – so his surprised jump back and subsequent retreat from whatever it was made me curious.

The little guy looked from afar like something that could easily be mistaken for a small chunk of blue-gray lichen. But as soon as I got close enough, I could see s/he was a beautiful amphibian. My guess was a treefrog.

While it wasn’t too keen on being sniffed by Spartacus, it was not at all reticent about having me photograph it from a variety of angles. The design and color of its back were particularly fascinating.

Fantastic Resource

Spartacus and I were traveling along a portion of a road that is flanked by a vast field that tends to retain a shallow wetness in the spring and is one of the first places Karl and I hear peepers and treefrogs. And this little guy was headed across the road right toward the ol’ watering hole. As it was obviously not a common bullfrog, nor a toad, I was leaning toward identifying it as a treefrog.

Lucky for us here in PA, we have a fantastic resource available to help us identify all things herpetological, Pennsylvania Herp Identification.

I’ve written about this resource before, as it’s been essential to helping me identify a variety of snakes (here and here) I’ve encountered.

Treefrog’s Back – Photo: L. Weikel

Eastern Gray Treefrog or Cope’s Gray Treefrog

If it were up to me, I would say the one we encountered was a Cope’s Gray Treefrog. lt looks identical to the one on the Herp ID website. However, apparently the physical characteristics of the two different kinds (Cope’s Gray and Eastern Gray) are nearly identical and the only way to tell the difference is by their call.

Listening to the two calls at the bottom of the page for each description, I definitely recognize that of the Eastern Gray. The Cope’s not so much.

For what it’s worth, I submitted my photos to the site for confirmation. I’ve not yet heard back from them, but I’ll bet they’ll identify it as an Eastern Gray.

Either way – s/he was a beauty, and I’m grateful we had a chance to encounter each other.

Treefrog Ham – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-176)

Super Worm Moon – bisected by an errant cloud; Photo: L.Weikel

Peepers

They started hatching last week, when the temperature soared to over 70 degrees two days in a row and the evenings barely dipped into the 40s.

A sure sign of spring, peepers are symbols of hope. They are evidence of life surviving the dark bleak wasteland of winter.

Their cacophonic voices can reach a frightful volume, especially when they all seem to be crawling out of their primordial ooze at the same time. The moistness of the boggy land just beyond and partially within the forests around our home lends itself to images of armies of these newly hatched amphibians poking their heads out of the mud in unison – or maybe in waves – singing and croaking their way to dinner and sex. Or is it sex then dinner? Not sure. Maybe they’re just babies, Lisa. Get your mind out of the mud.

Onomatopoeia At Its Finest

Every year, as we walk our usual route, we’re enchanted by the emanations and eruptions coming from these swampy enclaves. Some peepers sound exactly as their names imply. Onomatopoeia at its finest. But then there are The Others.

The Others sound precisely like one might imagine beings from outer space sounding. You know, when they gurgle burgle up from their hiding places in the Earth’s mud only to sprout arms and legs and turn into massive praying mantis like beasts who make it clear they’ve been biding their time, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to become our tyrannical overlords – or eat us for dinner.

Those deeper, scratchier-voiced frogs that seem to arrive alongside the peepers lend themselves to active imaginations, especially since their volume grows exponentially as the sun sets and shadows make seemingly normal trees and branches appear deeply unfamiliar and a little bit spooky. I wish I could figure out how to upload my iPhone recording of these creatures and their preternatural voices. For now, this little recording by someone else will have to do.

Balanced Stillness

We took a walk this evening just after the moon had technically reached its full ripeness and just as the equinox was reaching its perfect point of balanced stillness.

Regrettably, as my rather pathetic photos show, a cloud cover marred her grand entrance and denied us the opportunity to behold the ‘full super worm moon’ in all her unfettered glory.

As we walked, though, we listened to the voices of the peepers and their compatriots growing louder and louder. A soft wind gently rustled the still leafless branches of the trees at the edge of the meadows making them clack and groan ever so softly. We sensed something.

We stopped and looked at each other. We both noticed it; the hairs on our arms and at the back of our necks rose up.

It was the Spirit of Spring Equinox arriving, tiptoeing into our lives, dangling her shoes from her fingertips, a slender finger held to her lips.

Bringing us hope.

(T-982)