“What-CHEER! CHEER! CHEER!” Sunrise illuminates a glowing-red Cardinal in the treetops. As I tidy up fresh green growth in my garden during a warm March morning, Robins chase and fuss at each other. In late afternoon, the soft warble of Bluebird is accented with an occasional blast of Blue Jay. A pink evening sky darkens to indigo while owls perform a lively call and response. I hang up my gardening tools and listen.
Down in cool damp valleys, frogs and toads have emerged from hibernation and returned to traditional breeding places to begin their Spring Liberation Chorus. Like birds, each frog and toad has its own eloquent mating call. In fact, toads and frogs were the first vertebrates to develop vocal chords - 170 million years ago during the Jurassic Period – long before birds appeared in the skies.
When calling, the male breathes in, closes his mouth and nasal openings and inflates one or two vocal sacs, expanding them to about half the frog’s total volume. Air is quickly forced back and forth between the lungs and the mouth. The vocal sac enhances the sound - like a piano’s resonance box. Producing sound within this closed system enables frogs and toads to vocalize under water.
Flooded fields, ditches, ponds and water-filled depressions are vital gathering places for over 22 species of Missouri frogs and toads, and the waters may be writhing with dozens of species at once. Distinctive croaks, clicks, buzzes or squeaks made by each male allow females to locate a single attractive male of her own species amid thousands of enthusiastic crooners. A couple of weeks after courtship and mating, tadpoles hatch from their watery nurseries, grow and transform until ready to leave the water.
In March, there are songs of cheer, songs of victory and continuance, songs of love – a Spring Symphony that celebrates new life and rejoices in the return of GREEN.
