(this was the week before my bikes were stolen)
Decided to knock the bigger mud clods off my mountain bike a few weekends ago and spin around Pigeon Mountain. By the time I got out the door I was some $350.00 poorer because of new pedals, shoes, seat, seat post, tires, and tubes. The bike had been completely scavenged by number two son for parts. It's the same with all my outdoor gear, these kids are like post apocalyptic marauding barbarians taking the best and leaving me with the bones. I know how Mad Max felt.
It was a real frog strangler Friday night, the rain came in sheets and the trees swayed crazily in the howling wind. About 3:00 in the morning I was awakened by a particularly strong gust, so I cut on my head lamp to take a look out the tent door. I noticed that many items in the tent, including my boots were moving up and down, much with the rhythm one observes with a boat tethered to a dock. I touched the tent floor and it felt like a water bed. I unzipped the door and popped my head out into the driving rain to find my little encampment in the center of a pond no less than three inches deep. I did not panic, “This a Bibler”, you could go over Niagara Falls in this tent”, I told myself. Thus reassured, I lay back down in my bag and listened as the rain pummeled “ the tent which could not leak”. Worms of doubt slowly ate holes through my resolve, the Titanic kept coming to mind. My mouth became dry, I had visions of soaked down and my stash of Cherry Blow Pops dissolving into a sweet sticky mess which filled the micro pores of my Gortex drink caddy. When I could stand it no longer, I dashed from the tent, yanked the stakes, and pulled the whole mess to higher ground. There is much to be said for free standing tents.
I rode my bike on Saturday and it was fun, blah blah blah...
The skies were clear Saturday night, the air was warm, and the moon was as bright as the sun. Spring was in the air, perfect for a night hike around the sag ponds. The underlying layers of Pigeon Mountain are limestone. Water seeping through cracks and crevices has formed a lace work of world class caving, Fantastic Pit in Ellison's Cave on Pigeon Mountain is a 586 ft. chute straight down; the largest single pit in the United States. Sometimes you don't get a huge pit, just a little slumping which causes a depression on the surface which seasonally fills with water. These Sag Ponds were were hopping Saturday night. Everybody was looking for a date. This is actually an American Toad, not a frog, searching for love with his best basso profundo. The girls like the deepest voices, young males sometimes try to mimic an older frog by lowering their voice, one species even casts his voice into a hollow log to deepen it, this is why karaoke is popular. Click
here to hear the noise.
Even the toads had no trouble getting lucky this night. As in all species, including us, it is the female who selects a male for mating. When mating season starts the males grow “nuptial pads” on his thumbs which enable him to climb on her back and grab her around the waist and hang for days if necessary. The technical name for this frog embrace is amplexus. While a person could pull them apart, no way another toad could knock him off. I spooked several pairs and they never let go, even during complicated aquabatics as they sought deeper water. I read where one lady sent a picture into the newspaper, insisting that her pond was full of two headed frogs, I can see how she though that.
This may not seem to have much to do with hiking and outdoor pursuits but the point is that there is another world waiting after the sun goes down. Get out and really explore, don't just cast your light about camp when you hear a rustle in the leaves.
Next week kids, I've got some midnight beetle porn and spotlighting spiders.
Giant Chorus Frog...haha
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