The song.

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.

El Coqui.

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.

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I miss their song already.