Spring Peepers and Sasquatch Seekers

Spring Peepers and Sasquatch Seekers It’s the very beginning of spring in New Hampshire. The snow has finally melted off of the trails, and the ice is starting to disappear off of the surface of most water bodies. It’s reminiscent of the old Happy Harmonies cartoon where the snow melts and spring, well, springs. Despite the snow that fell earlier this week, the temperatures have still been well above freezing, and creatures are beginning to stir in the wilderness.

So far this season, this field correspondent, based in New England, has seen a number of different animals beginning to show signs of life among the ice. An industrious beaver was seen breaking the ice on a frozen pond, seeking ways to stymie the flow of water that actually thinned the ice in the first place. Canadian geese have been seen returning to their home up north, flying in delightful V’s with one brave soul in the front breaking the headwind for their companions. But there is one group of nature’s creations that this correspondent has taken an interest in this season. Amphibians, some of the first beings to emerge and celebrate after a long cold winter. Later this season, your New England correspondent plans on exploring the mysterious vernal pools that appear for a fleeting moment in time, but that is for another field report.

Spring peepers, (Pseudacris crucifer), are tiny frogs with a choral voice that crawl from the mud in early spring all across the Eastern United States and Canada. Their livers are built like tanks, and they produce a cryoprotectant that keeps their bodies from freezing in the winter. This allows their warm hearts to continue beating while in dormancy. Once the weather becomes tolerable, the ice has started to crack, and the sun sets over the swamp, peepers begin to sing for the purpose of finding a mate. These songs can get as loud as 90-100 decibels in the right conditions. On particularly warm nights the sound can get overwhelming as every male peeper unleashes its battlecry of a chirp, calling from the edges of the water in which they pursue their courtship. A single spring peeper can “peep” up to 13,500 times in an evening. Imagine calling out to your sweetheart, 13,500 times in a single evening for the privilege of spending some time with them. That is dedication that spring peepers express every year, and frankly, this field correspondent probably could not match that level of perseverance.

These beauties prefer permanent ponds, which have just recently thawed out with the last stretch of rosy warmth from the spring sun. Your correspondent traveled to Bear Brook State Park to listen to the cacophony of noise that is produced by these merry celebrants. You may be asking, “Why is this guy so excited about frogs, and what does this have to do with Sasquatch?”

This is a completely untested theory about what attracts Sasquatch to an area. The obvious things include food sources, natural curiosity, and other supernatural areas that attract the unusual. What about sounds? Are these songs of spring attractive to creatures living out in the wilderness all winter? This correspondent thinks there may be some link between the two, and is attending a concert being performed by hundreds of tiny vocalists. If your correspondent is lucky he may even hear a Sasquatch call between peeps.

The destination was Hayes Marsh in Bear Brook State Park, found by following the appropriately named “Podunk Road”. The road was indeed remote as your correspondent drove along the unplowed dirt road, in search of Sasquatch, and a song. The sun was getting low in the sky, and the stage was set. The marsh ice had become marsh water, and before the car door was even opened, the songs of hundreds of peepers could be heard.

The sounds can be heard in the attached video:



In response to these calls, your field correspondent unleashes a series of Sasquatch calls into the dark night:



There are no responses to these calls, only the thousands of peeps echoing into the evening.

After stomping around the mud for a while, and listening intently to the evening’s music, your field correspondent calls it a night. To some, this may be seen as a failed expedition into the marshy forest. This is no such thing. An evening spent with some of nature’s musicians is a wonderful reminder that the winter dormancy is over, and life has returned. The feeling isn’t disappointment, but rather, encouragement about what the rest of the year will reveal.

Stay tuned for future expeditions into the unknown! Keep on Squatching!