The swamp was, like all swamps, a mix of extremely stagnant water and mud that might have merely been hip deep but seemed to be bottomless.
When traffic on the nearby expressway was calm, you could easily hear all the usual noises; the frogs calling to each other lazily, the occasional splash from a fish jumping at a fly, the birds singing about their nest-building and egg rearing prowess, and the angry squawking of a trapped chicken.
That last one. Not quite as normal, that.
The highway department promised year after year to saw down some of the trees overhanging the highway. Year after year those promise were revealed to be empty. This year might be different now that a low hanging tree has scraped the roof off a shipment of live chickens, and apparently let several loose onto the highway.
One thing never mentioned about chickens is how clever they are. That chicken did manage to cross the road, but all it found was more swamp and the same high risk of crocodile.