They're back.

All summer I've been waiting.  Every year about this time I start to hear crickets and frogs along the river.  I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen this year.  I thought maybe, because of the heavy rain and standing water we had earlier this year, that all the little critters had been drowned out.  But not so.  Earlier this week I bagan to hear a few chirps and croaks and by last night they were in full voice.  It's like a loud, raspy serenade as I sit on my balcony or fall asleep with my window open.  Between the chirpers and croakers at night (they really rev up about 10:00pm) and the birds in the morning, I marvel at the noise.  I tend to think that life was much quieter around here 200 or so years ago when this area was settled by westward bound pioneers.  No sirens, no trucks, buses or cars. No airplanes or helicopters flying over.  But I find myself wondering how noisy it really was.  There were thousands more birds, and I imagine many more peepers and croakers.  Throw in some wild cats crying and bears growling, coyotes howling and owls hooting and nights especially must have been a cacophony of sound.  Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?