That morning began like any other—until I noticed something strange glinting on my windshield. Dozens of tiny, smudged prints dotted the glass, faint but unmistakable.
They weren’t scratches, and they weren’t bird droppings. The pattern was too deliberate, like someone—or something—had climbed across in the night. My pulse quickened as I leaned closer. Was it a raccoon? A stray cat? Or worse, something that had crawled under the hood? The more I looked, the more the mystery deepened.
I snapped a few photos and posted them online, hoping someone had seen this before. Within minutes, guesses flooded in: “Raccoon!” “Possum!” “Condensation!” Then one friend commented simply, “Tree frogs.” I laughed out loud—until I realized he was serious.
He explained that these little amphibians, drawn to moisture and warmth, often explore smooth surfaces at night. With their tiny suction-cup toes, they can cling to windows, mirrors, and hoods with acrobatic ease. Each of those faint, looping marks was a signature left by a curious nocturnal traveler.
When I looked closer, the pattern made perfect sense—delicate trails of moisture in looping arcs, each shaped like the soft outline of a frog’s climb.
They hadn’t scratched or damaged the glass; they had simply left behind traces of their midnight adventure. I felt my anxiety melt into amusement. Instead of a problem, I’d discovered a hidden world that had been happening right outside my home.
Now I see those tiny prints differently. I wash them off gently, park a little farther from the trees, and smile whenever I spot new ones.
They’re harmless reminders that even the smallest creatures share our space—and that nature has its own quiet sense of humor. Sometimes, the mysteries that startle us most come from the gentlest of visitors: a few tree frogs leaving their moonlit footprints behind.
