If you’ve been driving after sunset lately, you might have seen people decked out in reflective gear, on their knees, on the side of the road.

Those are volunteers trying to preserve wildlife during a “high-traffic” time of year.

What You Need To Know

  • As amphibians migrate each spring mating season, they often find peril crossing roads

  • Volunteers with the Hudson Highlands Land Trust stake out key crossings and help amphibians cross the road

  • Volunteers send data to the DEC and the HHLT to help examine migration patterns and minimize deaths

“Look! Look!” Joe Hirsch said as he spotted a peeper frog.

“Pickerel frog! Pickerel frog!” he shouted as he ran to another amphibian in the middle of the road and scooped her up. “Gotta pick them up and take them [off the road] right away.”

Hirsch is monitoring amphibian migration on Fishkill Road in Putnam County. Every spring, on the third warm night in a row, the migration of frogs, toads, and salamanders begins. This night is known as “The Big Night.”

Moist, warm nights that follow “The Big Night” can turn out to be “little nights.”

Unfortunately, as some amphibians cross their habitats to find mates, they also must cross the roads that split their habitats, which leads to amphibian deaths.

“This is a very active spot,” Hirsch said. “You can hear the peepers going crazy right now, their mating calls.”

Every trip across is a gamble.

“They were crossing together,” Hirsch said, sighing at the sight of two flattened frogs.

He looked down as he broke away to look for others.

During the migration, Hirsch and other volunteers with the Hudson Highlands Land Trust stake out key crossings and help amphibians cross the road.

On patrol, Hirsch brings reflective gear, wears a light on his head, and carries a spatula. He has the spatula in case he needs to scrape up an amphibian who did not make it across or scoop up one who is in danger.

“This guy’s almost over,” he said, tapping a pickerel frog on the behind with his spatula. “Come on, friend.”

“I’m sure the majority of people would not be so moved at seeing an amphibian trying to cross the road,” Hirsch continued, “but I’m pretty sure there would be plenty of people who would feel similarly — that ‘I’m seeing a beautiful creature in harm’s way from one of these things.’ ”

Hirsch takes photos and keeps count of live and dead amphibians on the road. He sends the data to the New York Department of Environmental Conservation and to the HHLT to help them examine migration patterns and minimize deaths.

In about 90 minutes, Hirsch rescued five amphibians and counted 33 dead.

“I saw one here the other night,” he recalled of a frog sighting, becoming emotional. “I saw that he had been wounded and still alive, but had been hit. I can’t — that’s not an easy thing to see.”

But toward the end of this evening’s patrol, Hirsch ends on a high note. He jets across Fishkill Road to find out whether a peeper frog survived a passing truck.

“He made it! He made it!” he rejoiced over the survival of the creature about the size of a silver dollar.

This year’s migration is nearly over. Only stragglers are still crossing roads.

Ending his patrol, Hirsch was pleased his overall numbers are fewer, and the croaks and peeps were still deafening.

“It does my heart to see, so far, fewer of them, and you can hear the sound,” he said. “You can hear there are plenty of them. They’re alive. They’re bursting.”