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Published: August 27, 2009
It's enough to give Kermit road rage.
Traffic noise may be drowning out the seductive croaks of male frogs in Melbourne, Australia, interfering with their ability to attract mates - G'day, mate - and causing the frog population of the city to plummet, according to a shocking and disturbing story by Rod McGuirk of The Associated Press, the source I turn to for shocking and disturbing stories about amorous Aussie amphibians.
Melbourne University ecologist Kirsten Parris has been studying the frustrated-frog phenomenon for nearly a decade, according to the story. She presented her findings to the International Ecology Congress in Brisbane on Aug. 20.
When it comes to frogs, Parris said, ladies love a big croaker.
"If there are a number of different males calling, the one that sounds the best often gets the girl," Parris told AP. "You have to be pretty clear about your assets if you're a male frog."
How true. It's tough to get a woman to accept you warts and all.
For those unfamiliar with romantic frog croakings, here's a short primer.
Croak: "How ya doing?"
Croak-croak: "What's a nice girl like you doing in a pond like this?"
Croak-ribbit-croak: "Can I buy you a drink, perhaps water with a splash of scum?"
Croak-croak-ribbit-croak: "Don't look now but there's that ecologist over in the bushes again."
Parris' findings were basically this: Male frogs croak to attract female frogs, traffic noise drowns out the croaks, and many female frogs either stay home and watch reruns of "Sex in the City Aqueduct" or fall in love with Buicks equipped with deep, throaty engines.
At this point, many of you, at least those who didn't stop reading after the second paragraph, may be asking this question: What's the big deal if frogs don't mate? How does this affect me, an Average Joe who lives far away from an increasingly frogless Melbourne?
It does affect you, and the entire planet, for that matter. Here's how: ... (Let's pretend right now you are getting a highly scientific explanation, the result of hours and hours of painstaking research by my shapely assistant, if I were successful enough to have a shapely assistant. I'm not and I don't. And, frankly, for what I'm paid, I'm just not going to spend my time talking to ecologists, thumbing through journals and poking around reputable Internet sites collecting mounds and mounds of frog data, especially with a "Beverly Hillbillies" rerun coming on in 20 minutes. Full disclosure: In the mid- to late '80s, I cooked and ate a plethora of frog legs while manning a deep fryer at the Hook & Anchor Family Seafood Restaurant. Does that make me a frog hater? On the contrary, it makes me a frog lover. But does it make me want to spend my time researching the creatures so I can present a convincing argument on how their decline can negatively impact our fragile ecosystem? Nope. I'll leave that to someone else.) ... and that's how their decline can negatively impact our fragile ecosystem, or perhaps even trigger a nuclear apocalypse.
So, how do we remedy this situation? Two words: frog date night. (I know that's three words, but with newspapers becoming increasingly smaller I have to find ways to squeeze in everything I can.)
Melbourne should set aside a couple of hours one night each week in which traffic is barred within a one-mile radius of the city's ponds, thus establishing frog date night. Male frogs can slap on a little Aqua Velva and croak their stuff without competition from the roar of engines and honks of horns. Female frogs can choose their companions, and there will again be love among the lily pads and a thriving amphibious population in Melbourne.
In the words of ecologist David Lee Roth, "Jump! Go head and jump!"
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