It was a dark and stormy night, the rain fell in torrents…
~Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1830
And indeed it was…last night. We barely beat a fierce thunderstorm as we drove back from dinner with friends in Chapel Hill. The sky was flashing with rapid-fire lightning when we arrived at our gate. I must have done something right recently, as just when I stopped at the gate, my driver’s side windshield wiper arm came apart. That would have been very problematic a few minutes earlier as we drove through a downpour. The rain let up just long enough for us to get inside, and then the sky opened up, and down it came. Something else must have come down somewhere as it wasn’t long before the power flickered, and then went out. A reminder of how really dark it can be out here in the woods…incredibly lively as well. Outside, I could hear another chorus of Cope’s gray tree frogs cranking up, another attempt at spreading the genes around. Most of the sound was coming from the water garden that sits half-empty, awaiting repair. I mentioned it in an earlier post as the source of the abundance of transforming tree frog tadpoles in the yard. And it looked like this would be another night for creating the start of many mini-frogs.
The rain let up so i wandered outside (sans camera, unfortunately) to see what all the fuss was about. I discovered a couple of reasons why it isn’t easy being a tree frog in love. A huge bullfrog was sitting over by one pool, the one without the breeding tree frogs. A guy that big can easily grab and swallow any tree frog that comes his way. That may be one reason the tree frogs are using the other pool, although I think it also has something to do with the thick cover of duckweed and other vegetation in the bullfrog pool. When I walked over to the tree frog pool, I saw another potential hazard to romancing frogs – a copperhead was dangling out over the pool, no doubt waiting for a love-struck frog to venture too close. By the way, that is one reason that pool will remain in a state of disrepair until colder weather arrives. I prefer moving all those stones after certain species are retired for the year.
The rain started up again so I retreated indoors. I soon heard a frog calling from out front, sounding like it was just outside the front door. I grabbed the camera and stepped out underneath the covered entrance way. The rain paused and I heard the frog call again, very close.
I knelt down, and spotted the caller perched on the edge of our wooden walkway into the house. He was facing the to-be-repaired pool, the source of all of the other calling. Suddenly, he puffed his body a couple of times, as if taking a deep breath…
…and let go with a loud trill. His vocal sac extended for a second or so, just long enough for me to fire off a shot. I sat and watched him call a few more times before heading back inside. I figured he would soon hop off toward the other pool and join in the breeding frenzy. It is getting a little late in the summer for a full-on bout of tree frog breeding (the peak of activity is usually from late May – July), but you wouldn’t have known it last night. It has been a wet summer, and the frogs are taking advantage of every last storm, and last night it really seemed like it was raining cats and dogs (or frogs and toads at least). We probably had close to 2 inches of rain in the storm, and power remained out until about 5:30 this morning.
Right before heading to bed, I looked out the front door again. The calling frog had turned and was now facing me. I couldn’t let that obvious invitation go unanswered, so out I went with my camera one more time.
I bent down a couple of feet away and he sized me up, but apparently had more important things on his mind…trilllllll!
About that time, my camera battery died, so I headed back inside to a darkened house. I don’t know whether his efforts eventually paid off or not, but I felt lucky to have shared a few moments of darkness with such good company.