At dusk, in early Springtime, as you approach the margins of Blog, your rubbers squelching with a soft "schmuck-schmuck" in the saturated peat scurf, you will hear a high-pitched, cacaphonous white noise in the distance (or is it nearby now?). . . it's the piping of countless peepers, floating half-submerged across a vast green muddy membrane, seeping as one into approaching night. [click here for National Geographic Special Peeper-Op]

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