In her 1962 book, Silent Spring, Rachel Carson essentially launched the modern environmental movement by imagining a spring without songbirds, due to the overuse of pesticides. So fierce was the public reaction to this idea of a “silent spring,” that regulations were imposed on the pesticide industry almost immediately. We recognize that spring, more so than any other season, is marked by an explosion of sounds.
In my last installment I wrote that silence might be winter’s greatest gift. Nature is full of balance. Darkness becomes light and silence is eventually broken. It’s hard to characterize the cacophony of spring sounds as anything other than exuberant. Nature seems to be echoing the sentiments of most Kent Countians, as we fling open our windows and deeply inhale, exclaiming, “The winter is over and I have survived, bring on the good times!”
The shrill cry of osprey is perhaps the most familiar springtime sound to those who live near the water. I focused on the “fish hawks” in last year’s Spring Column (https://www.chestertownspy.com/field-guide-a-closer-look/), so this year I’ll touch on two other species that are making themselves heard.
Many hunters in the area will consider the call of wild turkeys to be the most welcomed sound of spring. The wild turkeys have spent their winters separated into three distinct groups: mature males (toms), immature males (jakes), and females of all ages (hens). Maryland’s Spring Turkey Hunt doesn’t start until mid-April, so for the next month the toms are free to wander the fields and woods of Kent County with impunity. In the early mornings and evenings, their gobbles echo from the woods as they attempt to lure females and ward off competing males. Turkeys are notoriously wary and therefore sightings can be rare. However, their drive to find a mate leads them to travel and announce their presence. Visiting a heavily wooded area, like Eastern Neck Island, during the first or last hours of sunlight should provide an opportunity to see (or at least hear) some of Kent County’s wild turkeys.
The high-pitched call of the male spring peeper may not be as dramatic as the gobble of a tom turkey, but it is certainly a staple of Kent County’s springtime soundtrack. In the winter, these frogs exist in a Han-Solo-like suspended animation; having produced a high amount of glucose, their bodies will freeze, but the sugars keep their cells from rupturing. No wonder their calls are so boisterous in the spring!
In the early evening, if you pull your car over to the side of the road near any of the area’s creeks or marshes, you’re sure to hear thousands of tiny peeps bouncing off each other and swirling together into crescendos. Females are most attracted to the males with the loudest and fastest calls.
If you stand and listen long enough, the peeps will suddenly stop. When something has alarmed them, such as the arrival of an eavesdropper, the frogs will fall silent for a few moments. Eventually, one peeper will start up again and before long the chorus is back underway.
When you were young, did a relative ever tell you that children should be seen and not heard? It seems that spring peepers were raised to believe the opposite. Although, their sounds fill the night air, they can be almost impossible to spot. One reason for this is their tiny size. Spring peepers rarely grow longer than an inch.
How does such a small frog produce such a deafening sound? Imagine standing at the base of The Grand Canyon and shouting. Your voice would bounce from wall to wall. These tiny frogs employ that same technique, positioning themselves near crevices in the soil that help to amplify their sounds. Additionally, the spring peeper has the largest vocal-sac-to-body-ratio of any of Maryland’s frogs. (source: Maryland DNR)
My fiancée has always considered the call of the spring peepers to be a signal that she was in Kent County. Before moving here, their calls were the noises Gretchen most sorely missed whenever she was away. I once bought her an alarm clock that offers several nature sounds (including spring peepers) to help serenade her to sleep, but it just wasn’t the same.
In less than a month, we’ll move into our new house, which abuts some of the marshes that border Morgan Creek. We’re looking forward to those cool spring nights when we can throw open the windows and listen to the calls of the spring peepers announcing, “I have survived, bring on the good times!”
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