By Donna Barski Early last spring, I gently lifted a small frog that was trapped in a mat of thick icy-slush covering my pond. I suspect this frog unwittingly leaped into the pond during the previous night and began to slosh through the cold mush until his leg muscles stopped moving. There it remained, in the numbing cold, until I came along. I’m not sure why I felt I needed to “rescue” this seemingly helpless amphibian. After all, he was a wood frog. Becoming a living

Learn how gray tree frogs mate in the summer in a pond in Western New York.