The warmth returned just like that, overnight, and we flew out of doors, shedding layers, shedding clothes, embracing the sun on our skin, the wind in our hair, the smells in our noses. I emulated the winter fireflies and oriented south, not missing a moment.
The frigid, teeth-rattling, snowy days of winter ended.
The hermit thrush who sheltered out the south door, under the steps, depuffed and went back to their private habits.
The rafts of ducks concentrated on the nonfrozen water moved on.
The bird-flu killed waterfowl, dead and frozen on the ice, sank and returned to Earth.
The killdeer stopped skating and started running again.
Then, the rain fell and we knew it was going to happen. The forecast was perfect: rain, warm rain, warm rain at night. What a recipe for amphibian magic! There were already a few early arrivals in the watery pools on this 3.5 acres: western chorus frogs in the frog pond, one or two wood frogs in the vernal pool.
The rain started slow and steady as the day shifted to night. I sat on the floor, cross legged by the open window, both elbows on the sill and listened to the music of spring rain. All I could think about were these little porous bodies that weren't yet in the pools, but were instead in the forests and fields, their main homeland, feeling the rains and feeling the pull to the pools. The pull to go. The pull to the present and to the future, to make more frogs and salamanders; utterly linked to this watery world. In my mind's eye, I could see the salamanders put one leg in front of another, all four of them, marching forward purposefully. Tails dragging on wet leaves, over wet logs, across roads. Spotted salamanders, unisexual ambystomid salamanders, tiger salamanders. Swaying, swaying, making their way.
I could see the wood frogs hopping, the spring peepers hopping, the western chorus frogs hopping... feeling the wet on their bodies. This is their world, their element, their perfect moment. What must it be like after that long journey, over logs and branches and leaves and stalks and fruits and pinecones to finally slip your body into that pool of water?
Winter cold water. The water which is essential, which pulled them there. They slip in and suddenly they are right there, in the moment and they might swim to the bottom doing little dances, laying spermatophores, picking up spermatophores, or floating on the water, clinging to the edges, singing and singing. The females are there too. It's a ritual, a sacred ritual and the union comes naturally. The egg laying is natural. The egg laying is ancient. The future all secure right there in that watery pool. That one pool that was the birth place to many who returned. The draw of the home land that strong. There are the travelers though too. Always the travelers. Those keeping species diverse and rich and always alive with new ideas and ways of being.
Western-chorus frog egg masses:
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Again, what must it feel like? That first dip in that pool? It makes me smile just to think about it because it must be wondrous. Like the journey was worth it. As I sit here and listen with the open window, the wood frogs sound louder. Maybe more have joined. The perfect night. The perfect amphibian night.
Bullfrog, year-round resident:
Life goes on and I hope to meet them once again as they wander far and wide this summer.
Spring Peeper during summer resting on White Ash:
Wood Frog during summer visiting a bird bath:
In his song, Hypersonic Missiles, Sam Fender asks: "Can I say that I've lived my life?" This is not a new question in the human world, but it struck a chord in me when I heard it. I reflected on the question and I quickly knew, YES! I've lived my life by loving. Especially by loving outside of my species, Homo sapiens. I love the caterpillars, the woodland wildflowers, the insects, the frogs, the salamanders, the trees, the shrubs, the squirrel tucked away in the soffit of our house - the underrepresented, the non-included, the non-mentioned lives amongst much of humanity. By unconsciously opening my heart to all these brilliant, beautiful lives, I've lived my life. What a great realization. What a great life.
We observe nonhuman life in a marveling sort of way. How is this world so magnificent? So beautiful? So receptive to love and care?
From our home to yours, we wish you warmth.
We also wish you much joy and marveling at the world we live in and on. All we have to do to witness is go outdoors and open our hearts. Even when it's freezing.
Happy Spring Equinox dear friends!
Wild yam emptied seed pod:
Snow trillium:
Highland County field station, where new land restoration magic is happening. More next time!
