Northern Spring Peeper
Pseudacris crucifer crucifer
(crucifer refers to the “cross” on the back)
Family: Hylidae
Besides the philosophical resonance that suddenly dawned on
me the moment I realized I was part of a living, breathing world, the thing
that really sold me on the decision to become a completely obsessed naturalist
was the simple fact that I would never be bored again. This might not be so straight forward. I, like so many others, had gotten by for
years scarcely noticing even the Turkey Vultures incessantly circling over my
head. Looking back into my past, it’s
hard to remember anything I experienced visually prior to my first moment of
naturalist clarity. Then one day it
happened; the world came alive…and stayed that way. Now, everywhere I look, there is something
amazing happening – a perpetual, enlightening excitement that grows ever more
complex with every moment I am awake and observing.
Through the process of observing, a naturalist quickly
becomes aware of patterns of abundance.
That is to say, some things are rare while other things are common. Still other things are both rare and common
simultaneously, or they seem that way.
Pseudacris crucifer is such a thing.
Let me jump to a side-thought briefly.
We observe with our senses. That’s
obvious. Some organisms have senses we
do not, for example the heat-detecting facial pits of Rattlesnakes and their relatives,
or the electricity-detecting Ampullae of Lorenzini of sharks. Other things we detect with a leap of faith,
and some knowledge – like bacteria in a clump of soil. Though I cannot “see” the bacteria, I know it's there as part of the matrix in the proverbial clump. OK, back to P. crucifer. With our eyes, even to those specifically
looking, P. crucifer are rare. To our
ears, however, they are abundant.
If you don’t already know this trick, walk into the woods of
the Eastern US, virtually any time of year except the heat of Summer, and
listen. With patience, you will hear the
loud whistled “peep” of the peeper. The peeps
are generally followed by a one-second interval of silence. Something amazing to note, Peepers sometimes
sing together in little, three-peeper acapellas. One calls, then the next, then the next,
continuing in the same sequence of individuals.
C. J. Goin published a paper in ’49 testifying that the particular notes
in the sequence are A, G#, B. What the
h*ck!? For those skeptics out there, I
too wonder how temperature affects the specific frequencies.
Check out this link to hear the vocalizations:
So, Peepers are treefrogs, in the Family Hylidae. This is a large family of frogs with some
600-700 species, most found in the tropics.
This family is noted for all kind of particularities in bone
structure/arrangement, dentition, etc., but to the non-techni-geek….check out
those toes! Cute little, sticky disks on
the tips, this is the unwavering feature we can recognize in all members of the
treefrog family. Obviously the discs are
for sticking to surfaces while the frog is climbing vegetation, or my face,
which I sometimes can’t resist – there is something really special about
putting a critter on your face…I don’t make the rules. Does anyone remember those toy balls with the
suction cups all over them? Did you ever
try to roll one of those balls over a smooth surface? Not so easy.
So the treefrog doesn’t find it difficult to move as in the case of the
suction-cup-ball, their toes are accompanied by a complexity of membranes and a
highly modified, cartilaginous joint that allows them to grab and let go with
ease.
To sum it up, with time spent outside, with eyes wide open, with luck,
a Peeper might come hopping into your day.
With knowledge and patient listening, you might hear the Peeper almost
every day. I smile when I think about
fragile, unseen creatures with ridiculously loud songs arriving in my mind
through knowledge of a recognized frequency.
Thanks little buddy, and sorry if you thought I was gonna eat you.
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