Peeper Pond

I last wrote about riding home in Eugene in the darkness—but I also have to mention Peeper Pond. Still not sure what this is all about.

Winters here are rainy, barely dipping below freezing and sometimes getting up into the low 50s during the day. In the park next to Amazon Creek bikeway behind the community swimming pool there is a low area of standing water. I’ll pass it in daylight and see a blanket of steam rising off the heated pool and hear voices from the basketball court. There are always walkers and runners, folks walking dogs.

But, coming home at night I am like a slalom skier poling around gates, turning here and there on the path. When I come upon Peeper Pond. I can hear it as I approach, a high-pitched buzz as if electrical lines have come down and snaked across the path. A sizzle and hiss, the decibels in a range that would drive a person berserk and which completely throws me as I round a dark corner. What is this?!

I’ve come to think it is peepers, neophyte frogs, tadpoles, a sign of spring. The wall of sound rises up to greet me and disappears as soon as I pass, an auditory salute. I’ve since learned that Eugene is home to the Pacific chorus frog (otherwise known as the Pacific tree frog), and its name, Gudu-kut, is the Kalapuyan name for frog. From the world wide web:

This chorus can be heard across great distances. Males will switch to an encounter call if another male comes too close or when a rival frog hits the 87 decibel (dB) level. To put that in perspective, most human conversation occurs in the 50 dB range, and police sirens are at about 100 dB.

Just like the steam rising off the heated pool, a sonic blanket hovers over the pond, entrancing me.

Listen here:

http://www.californiaherps.com/sounds/pregilladn306short.mp3