Finally found a local frog population. It took me like … almost 30 years. I was out on a walk, talking with a dear friend in Israel. Unexpectedly, a man across the street who was clearly in profound distress and had a phone that didn’t work, asked me to make a call for him. An urgent call. A call for help.

I was careful. But I agreed. So I ended my call with my dear one… (momentarily), and made a call for him. I did what he needed. He offered to pay me, and I explained that his comfort was more than enough.

It was then that I heard them.

But that was only the beginning.

Because, today, in modern contexts… there are speakers set up to emulate the sounds of nature. In Golden Gate Park, no less. There are »fucking recordings… of frogs. And crickets.

I was near a school, and it took some investigation to determine whether or not I was hearing frogs… or »machines emitting a recording. That adventure took some time. And I recruited a couple of young males who were biking on the open blacktop there.

They had not heard the frogs. Only the sunset bird chorus. But the frogsound could only be heard … from specific angles and distances…

And when I first went back to seek the frogs… they were silent. I had to wonder: was I imagining a frog chorus that was never there? Am I frog-mad?

This is the kind of problem we face in every aspect of our humanity today. Because humans make machines to emulate relationships we have destroyed. Or lost. Or simply dismissed.

But after some time, I was able to find the frogs again. And stay with them long enough to ascertain that they were not mere recordings.

I have passed that spot 50 times. I never heard the frogs there. But now I know they are there. And alive. And not recordings.

Not mimics.

Actual fucking frogs.

But again, without the truly bizarre circumstances involved… I might never have discovered them.

Think about it. I made a call for someone who couldn’t. An urgent call.

And then?

I heard the ancient network…

Singing.