San Antonio Report: It was 9:15 p.m. on the Wuest Ranch when the first small chorus of frogs began to make their chirping calls.

The sun had just fully set, turning the Texas sky a deep navy tinged with the darkest purple. Few stars poked through the moonless, blackening sky, but Mars was clear and bright overhead.

Coming from the tall grasses on Cibolo Creek’s banks, three distinct songs rang out — a quick low trill that sounded like a cricket, a deep broad honk almost like a dog’s bark, and a rich croak that was distinctly froglike. (Lindsey Carnett)