Returning Home to the Field

  

                             Holden Arboretum trail I recently walked with Wendy 

Before beginning reading, here's some current guidance for listening to my insect song recordings. Because SoundCloud no longer provides a reasonable way to play my embedded recordings in this post, my sound files will now redirect back to my online field guide, Listening to Insects.  You'll be able to connect to the recordings there as well as read more about each of the three featiured crickets and katydids in this post. You can then jump right back to the story. Only my boisterous Gray Treefrog recording remains in SoundCloud, and the link will take you there. You can jump back to the story from there as well. 

                             Returning Home to the Field  

It’s been nine months since my left hip replacement and a year and a half since I first developed so much pain that walking was difficult enough to limit my time in the field. Because of the pain and my subsequent surgery, I wasn’t able to perform my usual Orthopteran searches last summer. 

I’ve recently reached the point where I can walk a mile and a half, and sometimes even a little more (with a few short breaks, of course). One of my final steps to field-readiness is relearning how best to carry my field backpack and recording equipment. It’s not too heavy, and I'm able to manage this because the weight isn't on my hips and lower back. I knew I'd need to replace my heavy, old Canon camera that takes such nice singing insect photos. I had to carry it on a t hick belt around my hips, and that was not going to be a good idea. The one adaptation I needed to make was to get a new, smaller, lighter camera that would still take very nice macro photos.  

It was time to get out in the field. I'd start with daytime singers, then transition to the night musicians as I became more comfortable carrying some gear and confident with my recovery progress.

Spring Field Crickets seemed like a perfect place to begin! They would have begun singing along the Lake Erie beaches in late May. (When I was still teaching, I would think of their cheerful songs as a celebration of the end of the semester.) They sing in the daytime as well as the evening, so I would be able to clearly see all the driftwood and beach stones while adjusting to walking on sand. 

  

   

          

Spring Field Crickets are right at home in sandy soil and even just sand with a little vegetation for cover. As is typical with crickets, they are far easier to hear than to see. I need to listen closely, follow my ears, and then check around any vegetation They aren’t as tiny as the Spring Trigs and they aren’t deeply hidden in their plants, so actually seeing them is a definite possibility. They’re good jumpers, though, and they’re fast, so you may only get a glimpse of them! 

 

                

 

The song is a cheerful chirp-chirp-chirp that sounds identical to the Fall Field Crickets that will mature after the Spring Field Crickets have concluded their season. (“Cheerful” is actually a better word for how I feel when I hear them. They’re just going about their business of proclaiming their territory and attracting females.) 

https://www.listeningtoinsects.com/spring-field-cricket

 

There are places other than sandy beaches where Spring Field Crickets can be found, and I wrote about their additional habitats in a previous blog post several years ago. They do like sunny fields with somewhat sandy soil, and I’ve also noticed that I’ve heard them close to railroad tracks. Why there? I think it’s because the areas adjoining the tracks are typically open, sunny, and rather dry. I learned this by following my ears and checking the surrounding habitats, but my personal favorite locations just happen to be Lake Erie beaches. 

                    

Their season will be finishing soon, though, so this is the time to listen and look for them. There will then be a brief pause between the Spring Field Crickets and the look-alike, sound-alike Fall Field Crickets, who will be singing by later July. (That brief silence of field cricket song between the two species reminds me of the pause often heard between movements of a musical work). 

 

 

 

 The late spring/early summer katydid on my list was the Roesel's Katydid. Checking on those singing insects that are not the most common Orthopterans in a particular area is definitely worthwhile. Populations fluctuate. Some species may increase over time and become well established. Others may decrease and even fade out. Roesel's Katydids were more abundant when they initially became an established species in NE Ohio meadows, but they seem to have become much less common in recent years. 

This beautiful little katydid is not a native species, but it’s not invasive and doesn’t seem to cause any problems for our native katydids. These small katydids are not currently widespread, but this was exactly the time to look and listen for them in meadows. They prefer fields with grasses and some forbs mixed in, so look for them up in the vegetation instead of on or near the ground.  They sing during the afternoon and the evening.

                                             

 

For some of us, the song may not seem very loud. If you’re substantially younger than I am, the Roesel’s song will seem considerably louder and maybe even a little annoying. Here’s what to listen for: 

 https://www.listeningtoinsects.com/roesel-s-katydid 

Following their sound is rather challenging.  The Roesel’s song is a continuous buzz like a wire that might have a short in it. Also, cricket songs are much easier to hear than those of katydids because they are lower in pitch and more musical to our ears than the high-pitches buzzes and ticks of many of our katydids. 

                 

 

I’m concerned about the Roesel’s Katydids. They weren’t especially common when I began doing singing insect surveys, but I could always count on finding them on a regular basis. Now, however, they have gradually become increasingly uncommon. For that reason, I plan to search every appropriate habitat I visit this summer for these little katydids. If this species is losing ground, I want to be able to record this change. 

 

 

               A long-winged and short-winged form Roesel's posing on one finger

 

 I've become especially interested in - and charmed by - a tiny 1/4" sized cricket names the Spring Trig. ("Trigs" are in the subfamily Triggonidiinae  

Spring Trig numbers seem to have been increasing. These tiny crickets are doing well and are abundant in some NE Ohio locations now. They have recently become well-established in the area of Cleveland Metroparks’ North Chagrin Reservation where I do the weekly Cleveland Metroparks FrogWatch survey. There had been a sizable number of Spring Trigs there a few weeks ago in addition to a plentiful number of frogs.

              

             Male Spring Trig, long-winged form. They can also have short wings.

When I arrived, the Gray Treefrogs were proclaiming their territory and availability so boisterously that they seemed to overpower everyone else in this marshy area.   

https://soundcloud.com/user-475605585/gray-treefrogs-and-green-1 

           

                                             Gray Treefrogs singing

               

 

There were some Green Frogs and a couple of Bullfrogs, but the entire area was treefrog territory. There was one other sound accompanying their amphibian proclamations: the light, silvery songs of Spring Trigs. 

 

My other Spring Trig location couldn’t have been any closer: the native perennial garden bordering the driveway in our backyard. 

Our backyard is primarily an extensive shade garden. The sunny areas are limited by the large, old Pin Oaks along the driveway next to the house and the native trees we planted in the backyard over the years. But that sunny strip along the backyard driveway leading up to the garage includes ironweed, joe pye weed, eupatorium, mountain mint, native honeysuckle, and a native hydrangea. That lush but narrow strip of native plants has hosted a Spring Trig for about three weeks - the first Spring Trig to have inhabited our yard! 

 

       

I’ve been hearing him every evening until at least midnight, and sometimes he’ll start singing by dusk. I’d found in previous years that these tiny crickets don’t typically sing during the day, and I’m delighted every evening to hear that delicate, shimmering song as soon as I open the back door in the evening, or early morning. (Spring Trigs don’t typically sing if the sun is on them or their plants. They wait for shade or darkness to return.) 

But even though I could get close to his preferred plants, I could never visually locate this trig. The vegetation is lush and has grown about as high as our 6-foot chain link deer-prevention fence. If I gently move the plants he might be singing from, he simply falls silent. Without being able to follow his song, there’s been no way to see him.  

 

          

                                                       He's in here somewhere...

 

I certainly hope there are a couple of female Spring Trigs in the border as well so that maybe there might be Spring Trigs there again next year. I would be absolutely delighted!

                                   

                                                     Female Spring Trig

 

 I went out a couple of nights later with my shotgun microphone to try to locate him by ear and then record him. As I listened, I was soon able to determine that there likely were two trigs singing from within different tall, native perennials. They were both singing on the same pitch, as crickets typically do when both are at the same temperature.

Recording in the city does have its challenges, though. Wendy and I live in one of Cleveland’s old, inner-ring suburbs that we love very much. Although it’s reasonably quiet most of the year, that’s not necessarily true in the summer – especially after dark. I did my best to record what I could in between motorcycles and loud, obnoxious cars.

 

                      

                                             Male Spring Trig, long-winged form 

 

Last week, the morning was chilly, overcast, and windy when I left for a medical appointment. On my return, it was still overcast and windy, and yet… a Spring Trig was singing at about 12:15 PM. 

Perhaps it was the amount of light rather than the time of day (or early evening) that was the trigger. I could tell he was singing about 6” above the ground at most and seemed to be in a clump of violet leaves, though I still couldn’t see him. Instead of cars and motorcycles, his daytime accompaniment was neighborhood dogs barking to their canine neighbors, and workers repairing recent roof and garage damage that occurred to neighboring houses during the intense thunderstorms the previous week.   

 

                             

I had one final Spring Trig surprise after a brief trip to record the Spring Trig singing along with that substantial chorus of Gray Treefrogs again. As I pulled into the garage, I heard more than one or two Spring Trigs. My recording gear was conveniently on the passenger seat of my car, so I immediately started recording. I was delighted to confirm that there are three Spring Trigs - not just one or two - singing in the garden between the driveway and the chain link fence line. My guess is that their predecessors came in on one of the native plants we purchased last year for this area.\

 

       

Wendy and I walked in an extensive meadow area on a recent afternoon, and we heard multiple Roesel’s Katydids and Spring Trigs. I heard Spring Field Crickets and two different beach areas on Lake Erie within the past week. It felt like coming home. 

Of course, searching for answers to the questions I’ve raised will require my walking in these insects’ habitats both before and after dark. I'll be extending my listening walks farther as my left hip becomes accustomed to what I’ll typically ask of it. 

And last night, I heard the first Carolina Ground Crickets in our backyard. The singing insects aren't waiting for me.  

 

It may literally feel like one step at a time at first, but I’m getting there.