The Peeping Proclamation
They pronounce a peep… peep… that protrudes through the canopy into the night to proclaim that spring is here. Yet they know not of seasons, their proclamation is merely part of their life history, naturally selected into their mind over millions of springs. Often, the peeping proclamation is paralleled with a collection of choruses and croaks In their ephemeral eutopias they are enlightened, not by the glittering galaxies they peep beneath or the forests from which they emerge when weather warms winter into spring; not by determination of peeping all night, and not even enough to shout “everyone shut up I’m trying to concentrate,” but only by the hope of attracting a mate. Photographers, myself anyway, creep around with headlamps and tripods, hopelessly trying to accurately isolate a solitary peeping peeper amongst an assemblage of amphibious acoustics. Some peeps are distant, others near, yet near may be...