Quoth the Raven

Early in the morning in Iqaluit, I was walking along a little stream when I distinctly heard the sound of frogs croaking. That was surprising, I was pretty sure there wouldn't be frogs living in a place where there is still ice around at the end of June. It was a bit hard to tell where the sound was coming from, I thought for a minute that maybe it was my bag rubbing on my belt or something. Then finally I spotted the source of the noise. It was a great big raven, sitting on a post talking to himself.
I happen to know from another job that crows have an enormous repertoire of quiet little noises that we never hear, because they use them when they're sitting in their nests communicating quietly with each other. The loud caw we hear is the noise that means something like "this is my place, I'm sitting right here keeping an eye on you, don't even think about sneaking in here looking for a snack, I will open a can of peck on you and make you sorry you were ever hatched."
But this raven wasn't sitting in his nest whispering to his loved ones, he was sitting on a post and nobody was around but me. I guess he thought I spoke Raven.
Anyway, just so you know, it's pretty easy to confuse frogs and ravens. It's a perfectly natural mistake.