Here where I now live, I can listen to the rising chorus of tree frogs in the evening and occasionally during the day, when it is overcast and drizzling. Overcast and drizzling seems to cheer up the frogs no end and they can't seem to contain a few chirrups and chirps until, what I imagine, a little crowd of them get going and only stop when an older and wiser frog bustles in and shushes them up, "Wait until evening, a more appropriate time. A proper time for a chorus. No one is listening now. They are too busy working or blogging." This is what they say, it is true. Treefrog

At any rate, it is near impossible to spot a frog. You could be walking along, and there, a chirrup. You stop, and get a sense of where that noise came from, which is difficult as they seem to be able to throw their sound in some kind of freaky parabolic way so you never know exactly where they are. And then you wait...

and wait...

and wait.

The frog waits for you to leave and you wait for the frog. The frog always wins.

BUT, hello, what's this in the yard? Nearly run over by a lawn mower, this dapper little creature, was spotted and had his picture taken. Umbrage! Good job the husband has keen eyes. He spotted another later on...or perhaps it was the same one, thinking he had made good his escape.