Just as I got used to the sounds of late night mopeds and the music from the pub next door when I was living on Hamilton's busiest street, I now lay in a bed made of air, listening to one of Bermuda's most characteristic night sounds, the whistling tree frogs.
No bigger than a thumbnail, they are almost impossible to see but they have throats the size of Luciano Pavarotti and whilst soothing, it can be bloody noisy too.
Silent all winter but as the night time temperature approaches 70 degrees the tiny greenish-brown amphibians emerge from their daylight hiding places under stones and leaves to sing from the trees and although found islan- wide, they are most common in the parishes of Devonshire, Pembroke, Warwick and Paget, which is where we now live.
I've done some research on the little blighters and it appears they were introduced accidentally sometime prior to 1880, most likely on orchids imported from the Lesser Antilles and their song, cricket like but more tuneful is the sound of males trying to attract females. Randy buggers.
Someone once told me there are billions on the island, and I think most of them live in the cedar trees outside my bedroom window! Anyway better than Chicago's police sirens.