Little Pond spoke today. Through the long winter, it was silent. Today it spoke and I listened for over an hour. It was so good to hear it.

There's still some snow on the north bank, but the temperature hit 60 degrees and things stirred. When I heard from my back porch, I walked quietly over. I did not want them to get spooked. I walked past the mole damaged back yard. Past the place where the big bull frog had been eaten by the blue heron The gutted carcass long absorbed into the grass.

About five feet from the edge, they stopped. I stopped and stood still. They picked up the conversation at the other end of the pond. How could they know I was creeping up on them?

I remained quiet and still. I regretted not grabbing my binoculars. I looked at the pond. There were a few green shoots poking through the winter trampled cattails. I saw a flash of orange. A few koi fish were stirring in the warmed up water. A couple of insects were skeetering across the water and a few flying bugs wandered aimlessly amidst the brown vegetation.

I saw movement. A head was poking above the water. It was amphibian. It looked like one of the small turtles. It was hard to say, the head was small and the sun was glaring. It made the sound. No doubt about it, this was a mating chortle. I could not recall if turtles made that kind of sound. I thought they didn't.

I retreated and went back inside. I would return, but this time I would have my binoculars. It was great returning. The air had warmed even more as the post noon sun was really warming things up. Near a shallow section, I crept even more carefully than before. I brought the binoculars up and watched.

They were dozens of them, Some in the swampy woods to the rear. Some of them swimming stopping, swimming, stopping, chortling, stopping.

They were frogs. It was show and tell time. You show me yours. I'l show you mind, and then let's boogie like it's Saturday night.

I must have watched them for another 30 minutes or so. They moved closed, they moved away. Reminded me of my mating dances. I moved closer, they moved away. Hopefully, and probably, the frogs will have better luck than I did when I was a youthful chortler.

Photos courtesy of NH Fish and Game Department