It was 350 million years ago. A hot jungle of giant mossy fern trees towered over the land. Unimaginably large mushrooms and dense mats of lichen covered every rocky surface. Early insects and amphibians lived in the primordial swamps below, crawling and swimming through the vast maze of interwoven tree roots. Giant dragonflies, millipedes, and other early bugs roamed the under story, preying on smaller animals that made their home in the ever thickening labyrinth of roots below.
This vast prehistoric jungle was ruled by a giant species of early tree frogs the size of small houses. When the atmosphere had ten times the carbon dioxide as now and was ten degrees warmer, amphibious animals and arthropods could grow to enormous sizes. Humans couldn’t survive these conditions on the other hand. This incredibly hot and humid towering city of green was absolute heaven to these moisture loving creatures.
Trees grew wild in these early days, reaching the maximum of their limits. A human would feel like a bug in this time. Walking under giant grass, mushrooms of gargantuan sizes, and frogs that towered overhead. Critters all around buzzing about like taxis, carrying pollen and spores between plants and fungi. This was a cosmopolis of life that spread uniformly across the entire planet, a giant city of trees scraping the very clouds they themselves created.
But nothing can last forever, and eventually the tectonic plates of the earth kept shifting and formed the great mountainous desert range Pangaea. The last of the great forest fell back to the few tropical islands that remained. The age of the trees was a magical and incredibly important period in creating the intricate harmonious relationship between all life on Earth. Without it we wouldn’t have the world we have today. The amphibians lost their dominance with the collapse of the great rain-forest. The few great frogs that remained from that time have hidden themselves away where they can thrive in solitude, hoping one day the surface becomes theirs once more.
Campfire
“I miss lounging in the warm tree tops, soaking in the showers of the rain-forest, waiting for my next snack to fly by,” said the great frog whose true name sounded like some primordial croak no human could begin to mimic. Their name meant Star Gazer in human tongues. They’re a three hundred and thirty million year old tree frog. They don’t come to the surface very often any more because it’s so cold and dry. Most of the others either died or went into hibernation deep underground long ago, entrusting the care of their eggs to Star Gazer, for the day the earth grew hot and wet again.
“I think that might be soon,” said Star Gazer. “Things have been getting warmer as of late, you humans do love your fossil fuels. Be careful lest you lose your world like I lost mine. I do so miss my long warm nights spent watching the endless stars above.” The leviathan grew loud with a mournful rumble that shook the trees all around who seemed to tremble at the old one’s anger. “Do what you will, I would love for another age of the frog.”
— A. Greenman is a forest pagan, a heathen. Born for a short time on a tumultuous rock hurtling through the void. Writing stories with the intent of inspiring their same passion for nature in others.
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