February 10, 2023
Working from home in retirement is more fun than my former full-time job, but it brings distractions I never encountered in the office. Today I had to catch the little tree frog above, who was apparently hoping to take up residence in the pool, and turn him loose in the creek down the street.
This was not the first rodeo for this grizzled frog wrangler. For most of the two decades we’ve called Atlanta home, my wife and I have had pools, and frogs, in the yard. They hibernate in trees during the winter, and like spring breakers in Florida, they come out to kick off the mating season in warm weather.
In all the years I’ve been chasing these critters, I’ve never spotted them this soon. Though they sometimes emerge in late February or in March, it’s usually at least April before we hear their ear-busting mating calls. Seeing them before the Super Bowl is strange and unnerving, a warning flare that climate change may be about to strike harder and faster than we thought.
We’ve noticed other signals of a too-early spring: balmy temperatures even for the South, flowers poking through the dirt, and birds chirping to beat the band. I’m glad we’re out of the deep freeze that came through at Christmas. But where are we, and what season is this?
I hope we haven’t reached the point where instead of four seasons we only have two, one warm and one hot, with the glories of spring and fall fading away. The frogs may know but they’re not talking.