The other day, while walking in the woods, I headed toward the creek at the bottom of our ravine. I love the water and its calming effects, and this area is particularly beautiful.
On most days, you will find fisherman scouring the waters for steelhead or trout; however, because this was a Monday, there was nary a soul to be found. I was completely alone–or so I thought–until, as I approached the creek from a distance, I began to hear a very odd noise reverberating through the winding valley area. For a brief moment, as I later explained to my husband, I almost expected a velociraptor to come flying out of the nearby bushes. I could not identify the sound. It was almost deafening as I came nearer and nearer to the creek. Feeling somewhat foolish, I nevertheless turned around and made my way back home…I was already feeling ill, I did not care to be devoured by the wayward dinosaur my mind now envisioned in the rustling brush.
My husband returned home. Much braver with him by my side (and knowing I could use him as dinosaur bait, if need be), we returned to the woods in search of whatever creature was lurking behind our home. “Crickets? Cicadas?” No, not the right time of day and much too loud. He pondered. I looked for an escape route–and that’s when we noticed the frogs. Not just the two in the photo, but lining the creek shore as far as we could see. We assumed this was an annual mating ritual of some sort. Half of the frogs, in a fair amount of unison, puffed out their chins and “cheep-cheep-cheeped” away. The other remaining frogs, females I’m guessing, would swim nearer and nearer to the would-be suitors and gaze on, as if Frank Sinatra were serenading them on a moonlit night.
And so, as it turned out, I did not have to sacrifice my husband, a la Jurassic Park–and love was definitely in the air! Froggy love, anyway 🙂