Spring

Day 144: We've come 'round the corner of winter. Not only are the Snowdrops in bloom, last night I heard the Pacific Chorus Frogs singing on the far side of the pasture, no doubt inspired by several days with highs in the 60s. Their music is one of the most delightful things to my ear, and it's soon to be followed by another: the plaintive note of the Varied Thrush. I'm ready. And I'm ready for the First Day of Skunk Cabbage, but that won't come for another two weeks or so. There is such joy to be found in Nature, even when all else is the stuff of nightmares. Snowdrops, frogs, Skunk Cabbage...they give me hope.

Pacific Chorus Frog, Pseudacris Regilla

Day 277: When someone from the Pacific Northwe't refers to "spring peepers," they mean Pacific Chorus Frog (Pseudacris regilla), not its eastern cousin, P. crucifer. These little critters are utterly operatic throughout the spring months, but when temperatures begin to rise in late May or early June, their voices are only heard during cool mornings and evenings. The rest of the time, this small frog hides out in damp woodlands and wetlands. We don't see as many of them nowadays as we did when I was a child. I could go into the woods or patrol the margins of a neighbourhood wetland without experiencing any difficulty in finding a froggy for my terrarium. Now I count it a marvel each time I see one and at best, that may be a mere half dozen each year. In part, the decline in their population is due to an increase in non-native bullfrogs, although the invasives are primarily confined to the lowlands at present. Drier, hotter summers take a toll on tadpoles and froglets alike, with fewer and fewer frogs of any species surviving to adulthood. If frogs disappear from the "Round River" (see yesterday's post), what will be next?

Camo Chorus

Day 166: Yesterday, I mentioned the variation of colour one might expect to see in specimens of Pseudacris regilla (aka Pacific Chorus Frog, Pacific Treefrog). Here is an example. Identifiable by the shape of the head/snout and facial markings, this little feller must have emerged from the mud only recently. Its skin has not had time to adapt to exposure to sunlight. If you look closely, you can see where a few patches of bright green are beginning to appear on its side just above the arch of the thigh. Whether an instinctive response prompted this specimen to perch on brown wood as opposed to my previous example's settling on green moss is speculative at best, but is an interesting thought to entertain.

Hopping Down The Yelm-Tenino Trail

Day 165: "Here comes Mister Froggy-tail, Hopping down the Yelm-Tenino Trail..." Well, with a little license taken as to his activity and position (he was sitting on a log in a swamp beside the trail), he was nonetheless a cheerful sight. I'd wound up in Yelm despite my best-laid plans and was making the best of a bad thing with a seven-mile walk. Why seven miles? One, because I didn't get started until 1:30 and two, because that distance took me to the place where I was most likely to find froggy models. In fact, I found two. The other was dark brown in colour, presumably because it was newly emerged from winter protection. These frogs' colouration is highly variable depending on the amount of light falling on specialized photo-receptor cells in their skin. Unlike chamaeleons, the change in frogs takes place over weeks instead of minutes. (Pacific Chorus Frog, Pseudacris regilla)

Mountain Postcard

Day 267: I have the good fortune to be able to live, work and play in what I consider to be one of the most beautiful and exciting places on Earth: at the foot of Mount Rainier. I never know from one day to the next what I may discover. Why, just in the last few months, I've documented several rare plant species, and I have to tell you, those are the kinds of "red-letter" events which delight me most. But even when I'm viewing the mundane...marmots, paintbrush, alpine meadows filled with heather...it is the Mountain's presence which awes me and fills my spirit. This, above all else, is home.

Out With The Scouts - Pacific Chorus Frog

Day 255: Of all the things I do in the Park, one of the most rewarding and enjoyable is working with youth groups such as Scouts. Today I had the privilege of doing just that: explaining to them the difference between art photography and field-guide photography and then going on a patrol of the Longmire Stewardship Campground to practice. I had some specifics in mind, hoping to infect them with my enthusiasm for rare plants, and indeed that goal was achieved. However, their own finds were the most memorable and exciting: Red-legged and Pacific Chorus Frogs, and a colony of Cone Plants (Hemitomes congestum) numbering at least a dozen in a two-foot diameter circle.

Upon hearing one of the girls shout, "Crow! I found something weird!" I abandoned photographing our little friend here and went to check. I found the troop gathered around the plants, some already on hands and knees taking pictures with cell phones and iPads. As soon as their discovery registered, I let loose a whoop of delight and complimented them on being keen observers. Then I emphasized the rarity of the species and, having already introduced the subject of mycoheterotrophy, listened as they discussed among themselves the specialized conditions required for the plant to grow. It never fails to amaze me when ten-year olds grasp a concept many adults find daunting. As we walked back to their camp, several of the girls regaled me with questions.

At their campsite, I reviewed all the photos they had taken. Some were blurry or badly exposed, some were what you might expect from a ten-year old photographer. However, in each and every camera was at least one good quality photo (and sometimes many) of one particular subject: the Cone Plants. Seven young scientists walked away from this event with solid documentation of a rarity. You can bet they'll remember this camping trip!

Find The Froggie

Day 151: I present this for any among my readers who think that being a naturalist is all wildflowers, birds and blue skies. I decided to hone up my frog-stalking skills during a soggy six-mile walk on the Bud Blancher Trail today. After all, the froggy folk like rain, and it's much more likely that you'll encounter them if you attempt to arrange a meeting on days they consider favourable. I did quite well, actually, sneaking up on several Cascades frogs in a ditch beside the trail, but the real surprise was when the grass at my feet seemed to leap out of the way. It took me a while to spot this Pacific Chorus Frog, even longer to edge close enough to get a zoomed photo. Can you find the froggie?

Chorus Frog Chorus

Day 133: No, you won't see any frogs in the video. The fern is simply something to occupy your eyes while your ears enjoy today's post. Easterners may brag about their "spring peepers," but here in the Pacific Northwest, the singers of Spring are Pacific Chorus Frogs, Pseudacris regilla. They are out early this year and abundantly, but they are very hard to spot. A footfall, even on soft grass, is enough to hush them. If you want to see these tiny but operatic vocalists, park yourself at one of their hangouts and be prepared to remain motionless for fifteen minutes or more.

Pacific Chorus Frog, Pseudacris Regilla

Day 213: On March 9, I posted a photo of a grey-brown Pacific Chorus Frog, the little critter almost indistinguishable from the decaying leaves on which it was resting. This image shows a specimen in typical spring/summer coloration. This species is highly variable because Pseudacris regilla has the ability to camouflage itself, although the transformation of its color and markings may take weeks to occur. The alteration is initiated by a response to light rather than to environment, i.e., a long period of cloudy weather would return this frog to the dull browns of winter.

Froggy Friend

Day 196: The ditch beside the public parking area at Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest was simply alive with the sounds of ribbeting, and if I had been asked to make an indentification by visual observation alone, I would have failed miserably. However, the voices were unmistakably those of the Pacific Chorus Frog (Pseudacris regilla), the Pacific Northwest's version of the "spring peeper." The most skilled woodsman could not sneak up on these frogs unnoticed. Despite stepping gently and trying to keep varying intervals between my footfalls, I only succeeded in getting within ten feet of the water before dozens of bumps leapt from a log on the shore to the safety offered by a blanket of Water Starwort. That said, the memories of these delightful creatures are short and I am patient. I waited, standing stock-still, until partial faces began appearing above the green mat. One here, two there, my froggy friends showed themselves until thirty or more pairs of eyes emerged, sometimes one frog atop another. I would have waited for the population to return to their former perch, but the weather had drawn out an abundance of hikers as well who, in a flurry of feet and loud chatter to their companions about the constructs of Man, frightened the performers from the venue before they could return to the stage.

Pacific Chorus Frog, Pseudacris Regilla

Day 158: Often heard but seldom seen, the little Pacific Chorus Frog is the Northwest's version of "spring peeper." A master of camouflage, this frog has the ability to change its markings as well as transform from green to brown, although it may take weeks or months for the alterations to occur. Unlike a chamaeleon, the frog does not change color to match its environment; rather, it changes in response to light as it is reflected by specialized cells in the amphibian's skin.

I was fortunate to stumble across this specimen today (almost literally!) as I was exploring the improved trail to the river at the Park's Tahoma Woods complex. I had checked out the area on my morning walk and found a lichen I wanted to photograph, but as is often the case on my walks, I only had the point-and-shoot camera with me. I came home, ate lunch and took a 15-minute break before heading out the door again, this time with the real camera and the tripod slung over my shoulder under my jacket. I looked a little lumpy, but better that than anyone thinking I was toting a rifle up the road. When I reached the river the second time, I set up for the lichen shot and was moving the tripod to get a different angle when a "leaf" jumped about a foot and landed with a plop. I stood perfectly still and searched with my eyes until I saw the unfoliose sheen of frog skin. Finding the little bugger with the lens was even harder! You can't imagine how thrilled I was to capture Pseudacris on "film" for the first time.