Amphibian Egg Mass Monitoring

So far this season, I've been out to the pond five times with my partner Roger. We have found mostly Northwestern salamander eggs, solid heavy balls of jelly. There were a few long-toed salamander eggs out first time out. The second time out it snowed the whole time. Standing in a pond, surrounded by falling snow, is a very odd sensation. Unlike rain, snow falling on a pond leaves no ripples. Visibility was not diminished at all, unlike yesterday's survey. We had to quit early because of rain. To someone who has never looked into a pond the way I do, rain might not matter. But those ripples by the hundred make a continuous succession of tiny waves that make it impossible to see through the surface. Yesterday also marked the first time we heard the Pacific tree frogs chorusing around us. It was only a few, but it almost felt like I was surrounded. The real chorus started at night. I had to take a walk, and went past a different pond. It was abuzz with tiny frogs, all calling for mates. I decided to shine my flashlight in there to see if I could see any of them. One of them heard my footsteps and thought I might be a threat. It stopped calling. Withing seconds, the pond was silent. That is a defense mechanism you my have encountered. If you've ever heard a frog and tried to find it you know they stop croaking when you get too close. In a sea of green, you can't find that little green frog without following your ears. So it is with predators. I read about this reaction in Merlin Tuttle's "The Secret Life of Bats", in a chapter about frog-eating bats. It was my first time experiencing an entire pond going silent in unison.