With so many signs of spring approaching, I decided it was time once again to return to the swamp to see what might be happening there. I didn't see much that had changed. The trees, most of them, still stood bare against the sky. Leaves were still lay gray on the forest floor. A hawk suddenly left its perch on a branch high above and somehow miraculously navigated its way through the woods on its way, I suppose, to better hunting grounds elsewhere.
No, what changes were occurring could better be heard than seen. Spring peepers were already singing. I've read that they often congregate near water and sing in trios, with the deepest-voiced frog starting the song. Imagine! Peeper choirs, everywhere, singing their little hearts out to attract their mates. Just the thought makes me smile.
