Harbingers of Spring in the Air – The Northern Spring Peeper

Most would agree that it is time to bid farewell to Ole Man Winter. He’s overstayed his visit. Perhaps, it is a sure sign of aging but I’ve come to loathe the seemingly endless winters.

Yet, I find solace in realizing that spring will surely follow, heralding in a season of fresh beginnings and a renewed appreciation for nature at its very best.?I have the good fortune of my homestead situated in rural Nova Scotia, with a pond nearby that is always appreciated.

It is from this pond each spring that an orchestra tunes up, composed of the smallest of creatures, which create a symphony of their own. And I anxiously await the allegro from these harbingers of spring.

The Northern Spring Peeper’s story is best told by himself.

******

Pseudacris Crucifer, that is me, named for the distinct cross shape on my back. Listeners are forgiving of my unrelenting trills and peeps that can be heard half a kilometer away. Yes, I am loud, but never cacophonous – I will lull you to sleep.

I’m tiny, a mere two to five centimeters long. A?species of the tree frog, you will find me in woodland, marshes, bogs, ponds and edges of lakes. If you can find me at all! I like to live the arboreal lifestyle to which I have adapted well.

I camouflage well?among branches, leaves and twigs with my tan or gray colour that lightens or darkens depending on my surroundings. No doubt, with my tympanum – no, that is not a musical instrument, but rather the outside covering of my ears – I will surely hear you coming.

Distinctive mating call peeps?are created by expanding and deflating my vocal sacs, and only vocalized by us males. I am widespread in Eastern Canada with a range from northwestern Manitoba to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. In addition, excluding southern Florida, I am found in the eastern half of the United States and in northern Minnesota, and southeast Texas.

I have my own distinct call to attract the right mate and I?have to be well tuned. Female ears are specifically designed to absorb the mid pitch of my call. There is a lot of competition out there, so I sing harder and faster than the rest. A potential mate rates the quality of my call – so I will be judged.

Once mating season has been accomplished and breeding is complete between March and June, my mate will lay 800-1000 eggs. I really don’t need a pat on the back because producing large amounts of eggs is nature’s way of ensuring the survival of my species.

There are hazards between fertilization and full growth,?specifically eggs that die and predators. Such predators include fish, turtles, water beetles and dragonflies that are always looking for an easy meal.

Within six to 12 days, my offspring emerge as tadpoles and can be bigger than myself. They will lose their tail and develop lungs for breathing. Within two months, they will be ready to join the army. Not to worry, the army is the collective term of my species. It will be one year before they reach maturity.

Ever wonder where I hibernate in the winter? Well, unfortunately, I cannot head south. I can travel on average six to almost 40 meters a day. I’m not sure how they figured that one out, but needless to say heading would be a long, arduous task.

So, I am basically a homebody, content to stay where I am. From October to late March, I will burrow into the soil or under logs and leaves. During hibernation, I am freeze tolerant and, in fact, 65 percent of my body water is ice. This is thanks to glycerol produced in my tissues which prevents ice crystal formation in my cells.

Aside from lulling you to sleep, I am useful to controlling pest populations such as flies, mosquitoes and spiders. Females of my species may not find me handsome, but I sure am handy.

Enough said, Listen for me on those nostalgic evenings by the campfire when you conjure up happy childhood memories. I’ll be around to serenade. All you have to do is listen. (ribbit, ribbit).