Earlier this summer, after a terrible thunderstorm ended we heard the sounds of a distressed cry. It was nearly midnight and Steve and I had not yet gone to bed as we were enjoying the cool calm the storm had brought when it left. The sounds was nearly lost in the sounds of the frogs melody down by the creek but it was there, high pitched and frantic. I heard it first and asked Steve to shush so I could be sure. Then he heard it too. It was the…
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