Karnataka’s Honeydrop: The Coorg Yellow Bush Frog

I hate leeches. I hate rain. Why am I here?

These were my thoughts three years ago as I trudged through rainy trails in Coorg, Karnataka. Of course, I knew why I was here. I knew exactly what I was walking toward.

As someone who started their wildlife journey with mushrooms, then birds, then butterflies, herpetofauna were completely new to me. And I was new to them. But things took a turn for the better when I decided to go all in on a frog expedition, and one particular frog grabbed my attention. A common frog for herpetologists. But for me? A whole new world.

Coorg, or Kodagu, is known for its coffee and is hailed as the “Scotland of India” for its scenery, climate, and hills. That’s great, but I was here for the wild forests of Karnataka and the hidden gems they hold. As I started down the trail, I had a whole Wikipedia page in my head, ready to go. But then leeches latched onto me, and suddenly, I was questioning everything. As we walked those undulating trails, the rain drumming against my poncho (which was trying hard but failing to protect me), something shifted. The forest decided to show off. 

Sighting a rare frog

It started with a “tick-tick” and then a “pat-pat”. Different sounds layered on each other, engulfing the forest and leaving me bewildered. My focus shifted from leeches to the tiny frogs, trying to grab the attention of other frogs. And me.

I reached a cliffside road, barely visible through dense foliage, and there it was — no bigger than my thumbnail, perched on a leaf, croaking its heart out. It looked like a blob of honey. A weird description, maybe, but it was delicate, golden, and oddly mesmerising. The Coorg yellow bush frog is also known as the blue-eyed bush frog. In that moment, I understood why. A metallic blue ring lined the edges of its eyes, glinting even in dim light. I stopped and whispered, “Wow!”. That was the moment I fell in love with frogs.

 

Getting to know the Coorg yellow bush frog

Frogs are very common in India. They are often ignored, much like yesterday’s leftovers in the fridge. But they are important animals. Their ancestors emerged around the Triassic period (250 million years ago), so they deserve respect. Frogs are divided into groups and subgroups, with their classification constantly shifting. Since they’re still very understudied — especially in India — many aspects of their lives remain mysterious. Maybe that’s part of their charm.

Let’s learn some titbits about Coorg yellow bush frogs. These little fellas are called Raorchestes luteolus, i.e., they belong to the Raorchestes genus, commonly known as bush frogs. They are tiny frogs with vocal sacs and tree-dwelling habits (though some are rebels and break the rules). While the Coorg yellow bush frog I saw might have been my gateway frog, I soon realised he was just one note in a much bigger symphony.

 

Bush frogs are unique in that they lay their eggs on leaves rather than in water. When the eggs hatch, they emerge as fully formed froglets, skipping the tadpole phase. Each species has its own unique call, a kind of secret password which ticks-pats-crocks through the monsoon air.

Appearance and Colors

In the last two decades, scientists have unearthed new bush frog species almost every year, tucked away in isolated valleys or on solitary hilltops. Even though many of these species look similar, their distinct calls (see video) set them apart, turning the forest into a hidden indie music festival that few have been invited to.

The Coorg yellow bush frog is endemic to Karnataka’s Western Ghats, not just the Coorg district, as its name might suggest. Little is known about its lifecycle, and like other bush frogs, it is incredibly sensitive to temperature, moisture, and disturbance. These factors, along with their restricted range, make them challenging subjects for research. This little fella is mainly found at mid-altitudes (500-700 m) in evergreen, semi-evergreen, and moist deciduous forest patches. It’s also been spotted in disturbed habitats, especially near coffee plantations. So, if you ever find yourself wandering through Karnataka’s coffee estates, who knows? You might just stumble upon one.

Its dominant colour is yellowish-brown with light brownish lines or light yellow with discontinuous light brown lines. Some individuals go fully golden yellow with only faint spots. The iris? Light brown to golden with a bluish-green outer ring.

Here’s a fun fact: males turn yellow during the breeding season and switch to cream when it’s over. A proper wardrobe change.

Unique Breeding Habits

In the following days, I saw these yellow frogs everywhere — under leaves, over leaves, sometimes hiding in plain sight. Their world had opened to me. And just when I thought I’d seen it all, the forest handed me something even more intimate.

Amplexus or frog mating. I saw it up close. Two yellow bush frogs locked in that ritual. It was tender, surreal. A private moment of a species we rarely think about. And I realised that though we may overlook them. Dismiss them. In their world, in their moment, they shine.

Why This Frog Matters to the Ecosystem

The males of the species may start calling a long trilling sound from under leaf litter before climbing into the foliage to continue their serenade until 10 pm. They’re more than background noise during the monsoons. More than fleeting flashes of colour in the undergrowth. Frogs are storytellers of the ecosystem, sensitive to the tiniest shifts in temperature, moisture, pollution. When they thrive, it means the forest breathes easy. When they vanish, something is off — a warning that the ecosystem is going haywire. A frog, no bigger than my thumbnail, taught me wonder. And wonder, it turns out, is enough to keep walking. Three years ago, I came to Coorg dreading the rain, swearing at leeches, and questioning everything. Now? I’d do it all over again. Because sometimes, falling in love with a frog is the first step to falling in love with a forest.