Earliest Signs of Spring 
days of March, between the vernal equinox and 
April, seem like spring’s vestibule. During 
this time one hardly heeds the unkempt look 
of all natural scenery, in his eagerness to catch 
the wakeful signals of the general reanimation. 
No sound is more suggestive, in this season, 
than that of the frogs, that are sounding the 
long, monotonous pitch for Nature’s tuning-up. 
At a small pool, in one of my resorts, I first 
heard a solitary one—an early riser—who was 
probably calling to his hibernating brethren 
still lingering beneath the water; and, at a 
larger pond within the woods, a dozen fellows, 
wide awake, were sprawling at the surface of the 
water, protruding only their bright, staring eyes 
and roomy mouths, while in an unrhythmical 
medley they chanted a natural ‘‘ ground bass’’ 
to the shrill piping of their fair soprano sisters, 
the tree-toads, that had climbed a few feet above 
the water—and how hard it always is to find 
them—invariably stopping in the midst of the 
song when one approaches. The tree-toad’s. 
note is one of the most stirring episodes of 
March, so consonant with Nature’s ringing call 
to life, quite as cheery as the song-sparrow it- 
self, and, as well, full of the memories of sum- 
mer’s eventide in quiet woods. 
261 
