Crickets are both extremely common critters and extremely accomplished songsters. There are hundreds of species found everywhere in North America. That’s the common part. Males are the singers. They have highly-specialized forewings that contain both a scraper and a file on each wing. This primitive “bow and string” instrument not only produces the song, but at the same time amplifies and broadcasts it. That’s the accomplished part.
The cricket’s song is seasonally heard well before—and long after—their musical cousins the grasshoppers, katydids, and cicadas. It is now late November, well after the other singers have fallen silent. But a couple rugged, dogged crickets persist. They seem to have found warm niches near the house that have allowed them to cozy down and extend their season. Surely by now their chances of reproduction via song is nil, yet they persevere.
Years ago a clever entomologist made note of the regular pulsations of the cricket’s song. On warm summer nights they pulse rapidly but slow down when cool fall nights arrive. In fact, an approximate “cricket thermometer” was discovered. If you count the number of pulses in 13 seconds and add 40, you come close to the Fahrenheit temperature. Thus on a 70-degree summer’s eve, you’d find yourself counting some 30 pulses in a 13-second period, or 2-3 pulses per second.
So how about these chilly November nights when I hear a dogged cricket singing? The other evening I found it easy to count the slow beats of a cricket’s song. He was sluggishly emitting a pulse every half-dozen seconds or so—telling me that the temperature was in the low 40s—pretty close to what my manmade thermometer read. I found myself musing about what he’d do when the temperature dropped below 40. Would he try to retract some of the chirps he’d produced, back in July?
Some folks consider the cricket’s song to be melodic and enchanting. Others view it as grating and tedious. One’s reaction seems to be in the ear of the observer. I see Mr. Cricket as some of both but mostly a resolute dude.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
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