Nothing says “Spring” more than the sounds of a world freshly waking up. Birds are starting to sing songs to which the birdie lyrics go something like: “This is my territory. I’ve posted the No Trespassing signs. Go find your own plot of land.” Neighbors are starting up lawnmowers in a still-too-early attempt to outdo everybody else’s fractional acreages. The local rugrats are starting to scrape their knees and slam their doors again. As suburbia begins to come out of its cold induced hibernation, my personal favorite spring noise remains the mating sounds of amorous amphibians.
The Prof and I ventured forth from our pandemic fortress to a local state park in search of the spring peepers that are in full bloom at the moment. For those of you who remain unaware of them, these little inch-long frogs are perhaps the loudest animal per ounce in the world (no attribution, but if someone is willing to go out with a noise meter to get measurements I’ll happily do the decibels/ounce calculations). Standing in the dwindling twilight while surrounded by the deafening cacophony of a chorus of peeps is like standing in a Ridley Scott movie, surrounded by unseen, unknowable life forms. It’s a thrilling, eerie, and weirdly grounding experience. It makes you know Spring has come and it’s arrival is a far larger and unfathomable experience than you can ever comprehend.
The Wiki entry on spring peepers https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_peeper includes a couple of peeper sound clips. If you can’t drive out to listen to them live tonight, treat yourself to some canned spring.