Small Delights and Big Discoveries: Field Season, 2019

Gladiator Meadow Katydid singing Mentor Marsh in 2019 after the marsh 

was freed from its phragmites invasion and native plants and insects 

began to return.

Each year in the field brings a few surprises along with interesting documentation of cricket and katydid range expansion. There’s also moments of delight at the small discoveries I’d never see or hear were it not for careful observation as I creep around the meadow vegetation at night. When I step out into the darkness of the singing insect concert halls, I never know in advance everything I’ll hear and see.

The restoration of Mentor Marsh presented an encouraging example of singing insect population recovery with the removal of horribly invasive phragmites. I only heard one Gladiator Meadow Katydid there last year (2018).  This year, visitors on a marsh night walk heard  - and even found - numerous Gladiator Meadow Katydids singing in the native plants on either side of the boardwalk (photo above). 

And look at this lovely couple I discovered at Bath Nature Preserve in western Summit County! 

This female and male Curve-tailed Bush Katydid (Scudderia curvicauda) had just mated, as evidenced by the spermatophore he deposited before they separated. I never see mating katydids, and it’s rare for me to even see the couple together. Bath Nature Preserve provides 404 acres of habitat that supports a healthy diversity of singing insects.

Although I do see molting katydids on occasion each year, I always feel honored when I observe this miracle. The photo below is a bush katydid nymph (genus Scudderia) along Cleveland Metroparks' North Chagrin Lily Lagoon trail along the Chagrin River.

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you know that I study northward range expansion of crickets and katydids, especially as more southern species more into NE Ohio’s “snow belt” counties. 

It's quite apparent why the northeast corner of the state is called the 

"snow belt." It's our gift from Lake Erie and occasionally, Lake Huron.

Documentation and data are more than making lists and obtaining photos and recordings. I’m watching change over time occurring right before my eyes and ears. There’s an engaging element of discovery to it, even when I’m stuck in a blackberry tangle again. 

Here’s some of what I learned this year. Where species names are highlighted, the links will take you to pages in my online field guide where you can hear recordings and see more photos.

Several species are steadily – and rather quickly – moving north to Lake Erie, and I document these changes every year. Additionally, any time spent in the field could possibly bring some unexpected observations. 

I used to go down to Summit County to hear Jumping Bush Crickets, as they weren’t up in the Cleveland area. I was delighted the first time I heard one in our Cleveland Heights neighborhood and thrilled when the first ones arrived in our back yard! 

 Jumping Bush Cricket singing in a hydrangea next to our driveway

Now, however, I search the snow belt for the places they haven’t yet arrived. This year was their Lake County triumph. Instead of being in scattered locations, they seemed to be everywhere I checked. There were still a few locations in Geauga County where I didn’t hear them, but that could certainly change next year. 

Handsome Trigs (Phyllopalpus puchellus) are moving fast as well. They, too, are becoming common in Geauga County and are certainly widely present in Lake County. I seldom even mention Cuyahoga and Lorain counties, where both Handsome Trigs and Jumping Bush Crickets are now abundant.

Round-tipped Coneheads (Neoconocephalus retusus) are also lining up along the lakeshore, as I’ve noted in previous posts. I didn’t hear them in rural NE Geauga County, though, so once again, that may be the area where more southern species are going to take longer to get established. Here’s a Round-tipped Conehead I heard - and eventually located with considerable effort – at Leroy Wetlands in Lake County.

A charming little cricket I’ve been documenting recently is the Spring Trig (Anaxipha vernalis). This southern and central Ohio resident is spreading rapidly in NE Ohio. Their silvery songs are even more lovely than the higher-pitched songs of the Say’s Trigs, and they sing well before most singing insects. Just when I feel I can’t wait any longer for the first cricket and katydid songs, there they are, singing in meadows and edges as soon as evening shadows fall across the vegetation. 

As you'll see in my updated map below I’ve discovered additional locations for them this year. I'm learning that they're increasingly common in NE Geauga County and in Lake County, as are the other northbound crickets and katydids I monitor. 

The non-native Roesel’s Katydid (Roeseliana roeselii)  is not invasive, and this species actually seems to be less common now than several years ago. I realize that’s an anecdotal observation. Still, I find I'm  somewhat surprised when one of these gorgeous little shieldback katydids shows up in NE Ohio’s fields and meadows

A strikingly colored female caught my attention on a hilltop of a closed Lake County landfill that’s being managed for grassland. The grassy habitat was appropriate, but how did she and her predecessors establish themselves up there? I was determined to catch her to show the participants at a park program in progress, and she ultimately was happy to sit on my arm while being admired. 

 

Northern Bush Katydids are arboreal insects with high, soft, elaborate songs. Consequently, it’s difficult to know where they occur and how common they are. But they do come to lights, and it occurred to me last year that these katydids could inadvertently be attracted by moth enthusiasts to their night-time moth lighting sheets. I inquired about them on Facebook, and sure enough – I got responses and photos from counties where I hadn’t found them.

My amusing Northern Bush Katydid (Scudderia septentrionalis) sighting this year took no effort on my part. While shining a flashlight on a shrub along a trail at the Rookery in the Geauga Park District, a Northern Bush Katydid flew down from the trees and landed right in the flashlight beam on a leaf as if it were a spotlight onstage! Here he is:

Geauga County was also the location of one of my excellent surprises of the season.

I’d gone to Frohring Meadows in the southwest corner of the county just to walk after dark. I had no expectation of hearing or seeing anything of interest. It was cold and I was moping about the chilly weather that had curtailed my annual Black-horned/Forbes’s Tree Cricket survey. Even though I was brooding about whether I’d have another opportunity to resume the study, I still watched all the grasses and wetland edge plants I passed until suddenly…

 

At least three Dusky-faced Meadow Katydids! This is a katydid I only recently found in our area, though it’s one that should still be present in our remaining wetlands. It seems to have been fairly common at some point in the past. Still, my only locations for them were Bath Nature Preserve in western Summit County (2016) and at both Wolf Creek Environmental Center and Chippewa Inlet Trail North Wetlands in Medina County (2017). 

Most of Frohring’s wetlands were created. I think just one original wet area had been present across the trail from the 2007 wetland construction. (Additional wetlands were created across the meadow in 2013.) I never saw or heard this species when I surveyed Frohring Meadows in detail in 2012, nor did I expect they might possibly be present. But now, there were those beautiful faces and long, elegant wings, and I was amazed and delighted!

In addition, I also found Long-tailed Meadow Katydids (Conocephalus attenuatus) with the Dusky-faceds. 

 

This uncommon wetland species is one I find only occasionally. Other than a few Short-winged Meadow Katydid, no other crickets or katydids were visible or audible anywhere I walked. 

My mood improved substantially that evening.

Back in Cleveland’s University Circle, there was a new song outside the institutions around Wade Oval. 

Japanese Burrowing Crickets. Velarifictarus micado had arrived.

  

I knew the song from southern Ohio, where they're now becoming quite common. They often sing from hiding places between rocks, bricks, and pavers. 

But as of 2018, I’d only heard one individual up in NE Ohio. Hidden among the stones and plantings outside the Rocky River Nature Center in the Cleveland Metroparks, he was singing loudly enough to be heard all around the nature center. Here's a recording of him:

What a change this year! Individual males sang triumphantly at the Cleveland Museum of Art, the Cleveland Museum of Natural History, the Cleveland Botanical Garden, and near the Cleveland Institute of Music. 

Were there Japanese Burrowing Cricket eggs in the mulch used around Wade Oval? I imagine they’ve begun to get established now, so I’ll listen for them next fall semester. Maybe they will have spread across the CWRU campus.

I've saved my most exciting discovery till last – a discovery by ear. 

While half-attentively listening to crickets and katydids at dusk in my friends’ yard in Peninsula, I heard several Lesser Angle-wing Katydids! 

Lesser Angle-wing at the Arc of Appalachia in southern Ohio.

Lesser Angle-wingeds (Microcentrum retinerve) are not supposed to be up here. They should be singing down in Columbus and south. I only knew the songs from my trips to southern Ohio. 

              

 

Did I have my recording equipment with me? No. Of course, I came back as soon as possible and recorded as best I could. It was a challenge, as they live up in the trees and I had to listen past the noise from the three freeways nearby.

What route had they taken north? Would I be able to trace them back to central Ohio? I wish I could tell you that I figured it out.

I drove all through Cuyahoga National Valley Park after dark on two subsequent nights, assuming it would be relatively easy to find my way around this extensive park. Not surprisingly, this was quite an unreasonable assumption. However, my pathetically disoriented nighttime rambling did turn up a Summit County Japanese Burrowing Cricket singing near Riverview Road.  

The Lesser Angle-wingeds seemed limited to the Peninsula area along Stine and Riverview Roads. The map below shows the four locations where they were singing in the trees.

The pioneers are definitely up here. With so many species are moving north, why shouldn’t Lesser Angle-wings begin to join their Greater Angle-wing cousins as they do in southern Ohio?

Discoveries and data, songs and surprises to be continued in 2020…

 Female Dusky-faced Meadow Katydid, Frohring Meadows

Lost and Found

Last year at about this time, I wrote a post titled, “Has Anyone Seen Me?” It was about the Dusky-faced Meadow Katydid (Orchelimum campestre), a wetland species I’d searched for year after year but had never found in Ohio.

Until just recently - specifically, August 23^rd.

I knew there were historical records of this species and it appears to have been somewhat common in Ohio. However, Ohio has also lost 90% of its wetlands, and most of what remains is degraded by invasive phragmites and narrow-leaved cattails. 

I’d also written in my post that I thought I’d need to observe these katydids closely in order to learn about their behavior and where they live. 

Wendy and I had a brief introduction to them at Kingsbury Wildlife Area in NW Indiana last year. Carl Strang, who has been doing a 22-county Orthoptera survey in NE Illinois/NW Indiana for years, was our guide when we visited his area last Labor Day weekend. He knew right where to go to find them.

This year, the three of us were joined by Wil Hershberger, co-author with Lang Elliott of The Songs of Insects, for a 5-day exploration of Carl’s area and the crickets and katydids he has found in his region. It was a fascinating trip with companionship as excellent as the insects we found. As Wendy and I headed back to NE Ohio, I felt I was in a stronger position to search for additional singing insects that might possibly be in our area.

It was clear that the first thing I’d need to do is search wetlands that still had native plants, and I’d need to wade out into the water. Since I’m studying the crickets and katydids at Bath Nature Preserve in Summit County this year, I promptly headed for one of the ponds within a couple of days after returning home.

The Garden Pond is not invasive-free, but there’s lots of arrowhead at the edge of the water with other native plants as well.

I started wading into the arrowhead, periodically checking the tops of my rubber boots. I thought I heard a pattern of tics and whirrs that was different from the typical boisterous Black-legged Meadow Katydids that seem to inhabit any damp or wet area in NE Ohio. 

I looked down at my boots: water ½” from the top…

...and there in the arrowhead was a Dusky-faced Meadow Katydid! And then another!

My dilemma, as always, was: record first, or photograph first?

But it wasn’t a problem, as they weren’t going anywhere. These katydids were surprisingly tolerant of my standing in their marsh. Of course, I couldn’t move very quickly, either, as it was dark and my preference was not to fill my boots with water or get stuck in the mucky bottom of the pond.

So I remained relatively stationary, watching and listening. Eventually I saw a few more of them. When I slowly moved to the other side of the pond, I found three or four more – but only when I had waded out into at least a few inches of water. 

I was delighted!

As I wrote last year, their songs are indeed quite loud. It just doesn’t seem that way because the frequency is so very high for human ears. My recorder shot into the red zone, yet my perception was simply that I could hear this katydid better than I thought I would. I couldn’t back up very well, as I was rather embedded in mud by now, so I quickly pulled back my microphone until I could adjust the input level.
   

I could later see that the song was well over 15 kHz (that’s 15,000 Hz, and the threshold of human hearing is about 20,000 for young ears). Wil confirmed for me that the peak frequencies of the Dusky-faced he recorded were 16.3 -17.7 kHz. 

The pattern of "tics" is irregular, and the "whirrs" (or trills) are of varying lengths. Here's another example from Garden Pond. 

When I returned the next night, my initial little group now had six individuals, all on arrowhead. When they jumped, I could hear the sound of their feet hitting the tough, thick leaves. They not only perched on these leaves and stems, but were eating the leaves as well.

 

One of the females hopped from a leaf right onto my hand as I was recording a singing male. Perhaps she remembered how much she’d enjoyed nibbling on my skin during our photo shoot the night before. 

Katydids do like to nibble on human skin, but it’s usually just the lightest tickle. Not with this girl, though. I guess it takes more power to chew that tough arrowhead, and I felt sharp little pinches up and down my arms and hands as she explored and I recorded. Did I care? Absolutely not!

I visited the pond three times that week, watching their behavior, noting what plants they were on and how close to the water they stayed, and also observing how dusky their dusky faces were or were not.

There was considerable variation. Some are much darker reddish-tan while others are light tan to almost green. All have interesting wavy lines and spots that remind me of capillaries. Here are some of their faces:

 

 

The cerci are bright yellow, and the wings are brown and quite long. Their eyes are tan with a touch of orange, unlike the bright, red eyes of the Common Meadow Katydids, and their legs are green with a little brown toward the back. 

Compare their subtle shades to the yellow and black legs of this colorful Black-legged Meadow Katydid (Orchelimum nigripes) I found at the same location (photo below).

Katydids in the genus Orchelimum are larger than those in the genus Conocephalus, which includeds our very common Short-winged Meadow Katydids and Slender Meadow Katydids. The Dusky-faced Meadow Katydids seem  comparatively substantial even to some of the other Orchelimum members, perhaps in part because they stay calmly in place rather than rapidly leaping from leaf to stem to somewhere out of sight.

They are uncommon, relatively inaccessible, elegant, and - fortunately for me -  tolerant of respectful humans.

This past week, I checked the Garden Bowl wetland, also at Bath Nature Preserve. The preserve had previously been the Raymond Firestone estate before its purchase by Bath Township in 1997, and the wetland was drained in the 1930s for use as a polo field. How excellent that this wetland has recently been gloriously restored! (You can read about the process here.)

I wondered if there was any possibility that it might have had a remnant population from before the destruction. I wasn’t too hopeful, but the area is now quite gorgeous with all its native plants, water, and wildlife. Why not go down right to the water and check? I could see there was arrowhead there, too…

I searched at dusk, and didn’t find any. I waited for darkness, and continued to search. And then – there was a Dusky-faced! 

I found a second one shortly thereafter. I imagine there were more, but I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t lose my boots in the mud below the water. 

But how exciting! Had they been there all along? Did they somehow move in from the Garden Pond? Are there more out at the much larger Bath Pond in areas that are not accessible? 

And maybe, just maybe I’ll find them in other northern Ohio wetlands as well. I now have a better idea of how and where to search. Perhaps I’ll even find one of the other even less common katydid species I have yet to find in Ohio. That’s where I’ll leave the story for now, but you know it will be continued next August!