Spring peepers in the air

Absolutely nothing says spring more than the distant chorus of spring peepers.

There is a wooded stream just off of Conner Station that is home to a cacophonous band of peepers — which are frogs — all competing for as many females as they can lure with their peeping charm. Just last week, on a warm evening, after plenty of rain, the spring peepers reminded me of how glorious rural life can be. Just by listening for a few minutes, an entire other world can be imagined.

This year, I heard the peepers after a rain in late February. A few warm February days awakened the male peepers in anticipation of frog love. Male spring peepers are the noise makers. The louder and faster they peep, the luckier they get on their quest to attract females. As cocktail hour approaches, the song to lure females begins, and if you really listen, you will hear a distinctive peep coming from tiny amphibians.

Spring peepers are tiny (no bigger than an inch in length), frogs that appear brown, tan, olive or reddish in color with a distinct X formation on their backs. If you are lucky enough to see one up close and personal, you can further identify the peeper by its big toes that are used for climbing. Although they can climb, spring peepers prefer to nestle in debris in the forest floor; their preferred habitat is along wooded streams, moist lowlands and ephemeral ponds. Temporary pools that dry up later in the season are ideal to lay your eggs, because there are no fish present to eat your babies.

Breeding is a nocturnal affair, and when the female makes her choice, she does so based on the male’s size (with larger peepers often chosen over smaller) and his song. Mating takes place in the water, where egg laying occurs shortly thereafter. The female lays her eggs on a stick or leaf in the water, and the parent’s job is done. Good luck, little tadpole, who hatches in a week or two after egg-laying.

The life of a peeper averages three years if you are not eaten by a snake, salamander, bird or big spider. Mating age is about 3 years old (remember that the larger spring peepers are the preferred mate). So, if you are a younger peeper, you nestle in debris during the day and then forage for flies, ants, small spiders and beetles for a meal and sing love songs at night, hoping to get lucky during the spring mating season.

The chorus of singing also serves a purpose in protection, because the louder the song, the more difficult it is for a predator to pinpoint an individual meal. In fact, I have heard of the decline of certain species of frogs near airports, where the sound of jet engines disrupts the songs of the frogs just enough for the synchronized sound to be broken, allowing predators to hone in on individuals more easily.

When the weather turns cold, the spring peeper goes into hibernation in a frozen cryonic state. They find a log or loose bark to fare the winter and thaw out at about 28 degrees.

Hearing a strong, spring peeper chorus is not just some luxury to enjoy from nature. It is a serious indication of the health of our environment. Amphibians are indicator species, meaning that they are the first to mutate, decline or die if our waterways are polluted. If the peepers go silent, it is our fault.

Be mindful of your lawn and garden practices, run-off issues from paved surfaces, your use of chemicals in and around the home, manure management on farms and anything that may potentially find its way into our local waterways. A silent spring is, indeed, a warning.