Yet hidden within the quiet, there lies a breathtaking power
Photo: Doudou / Text: Mango
On a late-autumn night when katydids were chirping with all their might, headlights occasionally swept past with a whoosh; beyond that, there was only the quiet of Dashanbei congealed in the moonlight. A human with a bulky body like mine might feel small amid the mountain forests and streams, but the Saunders' treefrog (Rana sauteri), tiny as a fallen leaf yet handsome and upright, follows the drive of pheromones in its genes and hurries from the mountain forest to the stream in search of that one beautiful thing in life. Relying on its sensitive tympanum to pick up sounds in three-dimensional space, it leaves no opening for anyone to catch it in a game of 1.2.3 red light, green light. But the roar of engines from enormous machines, because it does not follow the speed and rhythm of natural living things, often makes that slow-witted player lose its life in dismay.
After the smoking engines have passed, if you see a heart-wrenching scene of broken bodies in awkward poses, that is a guilt you can never forgive yourself for. A life was about to pass on something beautiful, yet it fell because of your own moment of inattention, and some were even carrying hundreds of eggs; those wet, tearful scenes come from even deeper self-reproach. It is this self-reproach that keeps driving the little strength one has: blocking speeding vehicles with a warning flashlight, making sure there is no Saunders' treefrog in front of the car, anxious, tense, indebted. The search that cannot stop, moving softly and quickly as if practicing lightness skill, for fear of startling them in the dark, as small as fallen leaves, back and forth no fewer than 5 or 6 times from Zone B and Zone C of the frog protection area to Zones A, D, E, F, and the Ketomo area, until the lightness skill itself finally swelled up from the effort. Yet within the bitterness there is always a sweet taste, like Teacher Yuemei, branch director of the Society of Wilderness, bringing fragrant sweet steamed buns and soy milk to cheer everyone on, plus the boost of Hsinchu's famous shuirun bing every Thursday, snacks shared among the frog-protection partners, passing warmth through the tense nights of patrol.
Caught between the baby-boom generation and the next one, we have no memories of catching loaches in the fields or fishing for frogs; those scenes can only be imagined, but "imagining" may be an even harder thing for our next generation. In 2012 the Society of Wilderness children's education team also arranged "long-term companionship." In a single help the frogs cross the road activity, the children first took Teacher Shi Zi's class at Gongdao House, learning through slides how cute and captivating frogs are. Amid the children's exclamations of wonder, they set off on the road to Dashanbei with both anticipation and fear. Each brave and righteous child, like a valiant warrior, shouted at passing cars and scooters, ”Please slow down, watch out for frogs!”, single-mindedly devoted to guarding the frogs as they crossed the road. During the activity, the partners hesitated in the darkness, slowly getting used to the joy of the dark and the sense of achievement in finding frogs. The children came to understand that the living environment is not only for humans; the more powerful a life is, the more it must be responsible for other lives. Just like these quiet volunteers, who took a few hours off work, all for that group of Saunders' treefrogs in the mountain forest quietly hurrying to their collective wedding.
Quiet, yet breathtaking.
Here is how you can help the Saunders' treefrog
Lend your effort: join the frog-protection volunteer training
Lend your money: buy <Jump! Saunders> life-education picture book or Saunders' treefrog postcards