I like going to sleep listening to the peepers,'' he says. It was a wet and misty night three weeks ago, when we walked through the wet grass down to the pond. Fine rain drops shown in the beams of our flashlights. I repeated my warning to Jim. Expect nothing, I said.
Peepers are pretty much invisible.
We switched off the lights, then turn them on when the sounds began again. Suddenly, a movement three feet away caught our attention. One peeped from the needles of a pine bough knocked to the ground by last January's ice storm. The answer became clear, when we went searching for the tree frogs on other nights. On rainy and drizzly nights, it was almost as though the skies rained peepers.