We arrived in Puerto Rico late on a Monday night to the most intoxicating chirping and tropical song. Luke and I both thought they were surely piping in the sound of large birds, for the trees around the entire resort were alive with sound – loud sound.
Luke and I were wrong. The sound, we were told, were the male tree frogs calling out, wooing the females, from sun-down to sun-up. The Coqui (which means “little frog”) got its’ name from the sound it makes: ko-kee’, a sort-of whistle or chirp. There must have been thousands of them there. They lullaby’ed me all night long.
I miss their song already.