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March first. Spring 

 Peepers begin calling 

 when the pussy wil- 

 lows are gray. 



somewhere between B and E, two octaves 

 above C, and the second is not more than 

 an interval above. As we listen longer to 

 the chorus, we perceive that the pitch varies 

 greatly with the individual, and that the 

 diflFerent tones are not always in harmony. 

 Occasionally there is a distinct rhythm in 

 the chorus, the calls are given together, and 

 the pauses occur together. More often, 

 however, the calls alternate irregularly. 



After we have heard the chorus every 

 spring for years, the Peeper is still merely 

 a voice to us. Let us solve the mystery. It 

 is a morning in the first week of March, with 

 the temperature at 58° F. We are tempted 

 to a country walk. Here is a wooded strip 

 of land between a marsh black with alders 

 and an open pond. The Peepers should be 

 here. The redwings are making a great 

 noise in the alders. A few sprays of pussy- 

 willow gleam silver against the background 

 of the alders. On the other side, the pond is 

 still largely covered with ice. But the woods 

 between are very beautiful, and full of life 

 and the promise of life. The dark trunks and 

 branches of oak and pine are relieved here and 

 there by clusters of slender grey birches. 

 Low stumps and hillocks are covered with 

 moss — spots of vivid green in sharp con- 

 trast to the surrounding brown. Two par- 

 tridges fly up from the path ahead with a 

 startling whirr of wings. We hear in the 

 distance what must be the low croaking of 

 a green frog, but, on following the sound, 

 find it is made by a downy woodpecker 

 drumming on a resonant sycamore. 



There is a Peeper! The thin, sweet 



" Pe-ep , pe-ep, pe-ep, pe-ep, " sounding 



much like a bird's call-note, comes from 



the moss and leaves at the water's edge. 



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