The Cameron Peak fire two years ago devasted so much of the forest, it's nice to hike to favorite places untouched by the fire. My hike along a ski trail I use in the winter passes a small pond located in a bowl I think may have been formed at the end of the last ice age. It is about seventy feet below the trail. I usually hike down to it and sit on a large granite outcropping to eat my lunch. My dog prefers to sleep next to it in the grass.
I've no sooner taken the first bite out of my sandwich when I hear a frog croak below me. Almost immediately, a frog at the other end of the pond croaks. A chorus of frogs to the east of that frog joins in adding to the chorus. Instantly, more frogs to the west add their croaks and the air is filled with the Song of the Frogs. I sit spellbound by the chorus. Then after several minutes, the frogs on the west drop out, followed by those to the east. Their leader sends one last croak to the frog below me who answers with a final croak. The air is silent. I'm disappointed they have stopped singing.
Halfway through my lunch, the conductor as I call the frog below me croaks and is answered by the frog on the other side of the pond. Within minutes, the frog chorus fills the air with their song a second time. I stop eating and sit listening to their music. Again, I'm disappointed when they end their song.
Luck is with me. I'm treated to the third chorus of frogs before I pack up my lunch and return to the trail for my five-mile hike back to my car. As I walk along the trail, The Song of the Frogs remains in my mind.
