Too Much of a Good Thing?

You probably know by now that I’m very fond of coneheads – as in conehead katydids. I suspect that just about anyone who actually sees them loves them. They are gorgeous, sizable insects with long wings, colorful faces, and delightfully quirky cones at the tops of their heads.

But they ARE loud – sometimes excessively so. And there’s one conehead in particular who, while not the loudest, can be a bit of a challenge...

…the Nebraska Conehead.

I’ve included them in two previous posts, but recently I’ve spent more time with this species than in any previous year. And why is that? 

I’ve been doing singing insect surveys in some of the Medina (County) Park District’s beautiful properties. I’ve done nine years of surveys in Geauga, Lake, Portage, and Summit Counties, where Nebraska Coneheads are quite unusual. Their occurrence changes west and southwest of Cleveland, so I expected I’d encounter them in my Medina County study this year. In fact, I've found them at all the Medina parks I've visited.                                                                         

I’ve always been delighted to hear and identify these feisty individuals.  Having spent a great deal of time with so many of them this late summer, though, I confess to having occasional conflicting feelings about hearing them. 

The difficulty for me is not that they’re loud and a little strident. Most coneheads are. It’s that repetitious rhythm! They sing a little slower when the temperature drops and faster on warm, humid evenings, but the pattern remains exactly the same.

I’ve written about how rhythm can be helpful for distinguishing between crickets that look similar. That’s also true for katydids. Here’s a quick Ohio conehead comparison.

Round-tipped, False Robust, and Robust Coneheads are steady buzzes. Round-tipped songs are quite  penetrating, but not too loud until I get somewhat close to them. The False Robust's complex two-pitch buzz is much louder, but it's still bearable for a while. But the Robust Conehead! That degree of intensity is only tolerable from a considerable distance. Approaching him without some kind of hearing protection is absolutely excruciating!

                   

Robust Conehead singing

Here’s an example of the three steady buzzers from loud to louder to loudest. I’ve given each one 10 seconds to state his identity, and you’ll probably agree that’s quite adequate.

Our ever-present Sword-bearing Conehead is described by my singing insect program participants as “the sprinkler.” The Slightly Musical Conehead, whom I find especially charming, has a repetitious pattern with a little more space between songs than the Sword-bearers. Individuals can chorus together as one voice across a wetland. 

 The Slightly Musical Conehead's cone is even longer than that of the Nebraska Conehead!

This track demonstrates ten seconds of each of them:

Nebraska Coneheads combine rhythmic repetition with a particularly strident tone quality. To illustrate the pitch level (high or low) and tone quality (or “timbre” in musical terminology), I’m going to present a most unlikely pair of singing insects: a Narrow-winged Tree Cricket and a Nebraska Conehead.

Narrow-winged Tree Cricket singing

In fact, a Narrow-winged Tree Cricket could be singing right above the Nebraska Conehead in a shrub at the edge of the woods. The cricket’s position would be higher, but his pitch would actually be a lot lower than that of a conehead.

Here’s how to read the accompanying sonogram. You can see along the top of my illustration that the rhythm and phrasing are the same. Below that, however, is the actual pitch (higher/lower) of the two insects. The tree cricket is singing at about 2500Hz and the conehead is up around 10.000 Hz (10kHz), which sounds like a buzz instead of a musical pitch.

So now I’ll return to my field experience with all those Nebraska Coneheads combining their screaming loud buzzes and rock-steady rhythmic repetition. There’s also one additional factor: they all sing in unison with that same rhythmic repetition. This is what truly becomes excessive, as if there’s a conehead singing from a perch on my backpack for the entire length of the trail.

That trail, by the way, would likely be along the edge habitat where they can be found singing from shrubs as well as substantial forbs. They’re not wetland residents and are not necessarily out in the middle of a meadow, but they may actually sing inside the edge of the woods. Here's one that was in the woods with some cold Common True Katydids up above him. It was 55 degrees - pretty chilly for a conehead. Can you hear how slow and labored they all sound?

It’s surprising that something so loud can be extremely difficult to find, and since coneheads in general can be green or brown, I need to watch for both color possibilities. 

In addition, they will most definitely stop singing if you get too close. Why would they advertise to a potential predator? They don’t realize you have no intention of eating them.

Hearing them, however, will not be a problem. In fact, that repetitious rhythm also makes them very effective audiobombs when listening for – or especially recording – other singing insects. Even in the background, a Nebraska’s hypnotic phrasing commands a listener’s attention at the expense of the featured soloist.

But I also know that when they begin to fade out this fall, I’ll miss them. And when the third week of July come around next year, I’ll be as delighted as ever to hear the first Nebraska Coneheads.

Everyone Loves a Conehead!

Whenever I do an outdoor program, coneheaded katydids are the most popular of all the singing insects. They are absolute show stoppers!

Up here in NE Ohio, chances are excellent the singer will be a Sword-bearing Conehead. I’ve written about them here. 

The more recent arrivals from southern Ohio – Round-tipped Coneheads (Neoconocephalus retusus) – are becoming increasingly likely up here as well. These coneheads are less tolerant of humans, though, and don’t hesitate to fly away in addition to the usual conehead escape of dropping down into the grasses.

The more of Ohio I explore, the more coneheads I get to know. As one goes west or southwest of Cleveland, Nebraska Coneheads (Neoconocephalus nebrascensis) become very common in open areas. They occasionally show up farther northeast, but I rarely hear them east of Cleveland.

Nebraska Coneheads are delightfully obnoxious. Their songs are loud and very easy to identify. It just gets a little…well… tedious after a while. I think it’s due to the rhythmic repetition combined with the abrasive tone quality (and, of course, the fact that it’s loud). Here’s a recording and sonogram:

When I record other singing insects in Nebraska Conehead country, I can always hear them in the background.  Listen to this recording of Common True Katydids on Kelleys Island in western Lake Erie: can you hear the Nebraska Coneheads in the background? 

The Nebraska Coneheads almost completely wiped out the Confused Ground Crickets I attempted to record. 

All conehead species can be green or brown (though to date, I have never seen a brown Sword-bearing Conehead). I’ve wondered about those brown coneheads. Conehead nymphs are green, like this adorable little one:

I recently found some fascinating and very helpful information on the Singing Insects of North America (SINA) web site under “Coneheaded Katydids.” I read that “…all early juveniles of Neoconocephalus and Belocephalus are green, a few become brown during molts to late juvenile instars, and the majority of those that become brown adults change during the final molt.” 

So a green nymph can molt into a green OR a brown adult! Only once have I seen a brown late juvenile nymph, and here he is:

And why are there two color possibilities?

Their habitats are typically a mix of brown and green. Later in the season, there’s much more brown than green in their habitats and the brown ones blend beautifully. Look at this brown Round-tipped Conehead:

 
According to SINA, a predator who captures a green conehead will likely continue searching for green ones. A brown one may be overlooked as a result. It’s difficult to search for two different colors at the same time, and I can testify that it takes a lot of effort. They’re hard enough to spot even when they're all green!
 
I’ve seen both green and brown Nebraska Coneheads now, and I’ve probably found more brown Round-tipped Coneheads than green ones. In fact, I've even had both colors within a few feet of each other!

And now, there’s this one.

I thought it might be a Robust Conehead (Neoconocephalus robustus), but no. It’s a False Robust Conehead (Neoconocephalus bivocatus).

I first encountered this species up in the northland of Geauga County. My friend and conehead collaborator Linda Gilbert had discovered this species singing along a fence line at the edge of a corn field not far from her home. She thought it was a Robust Conehead, as did I. (The False Robust Conehead isn’t on the range map for this far north in Ohio.) Here's one of Linda's photos:




When I heard multiple coneheads singing a similar song at Buzzard’s Roost Nature Preserve near Chillicothe, OH, I again thought, “Robust Conehead?” 



And again, it was the False Robust Conehead – but in brown concert attire this time.

Multiple conehead species, different color forms…but they’re all show stoppers when people see them for the first time!
 

In Pursuit of...Coneheads

Round-tipped Coneheads.  What an amusing name for a beautiful – and feisty – katydid.  I wrote about them here last fall, and this post will include my 2014 update on where I’ve found them.  It now appears that these southern Ohio singers really are a possibility anywhere in NE Ohio all the way up to Lake Erie.

I’d been keeping an ear out for them whenever I was in habitat that might be suitable, but certainly was surprised to hear that thin, penetrating buzz coming from a meadow at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History’s North Kingsville Sand Barrens.  This preserve is practically at the lake shore in the far northeast corner of Ashtabula County!  

But I know that sound – it’s unmistakable. 
 

Being so far northeast, I felt I had to get some documentation of this individual.  I crept forward with my microphone pointed in the direction of the song. Too far, still too far, a little closer, almost close enough for a reasonable recording…

…and he stopped singing.  That was it.  He was not going to sing again.  I waited.  And waited.  I circled through the entire meadow listening for other individuals.  Nothing.  I went back to the spot where I’d heard him.  It wasn’t going to happen.  I waited for an hour as temperatures dropped and the sun set.  He outlasted me.

I just couldn’t dismiss this.  I had to get something to show that this species was really there!  If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know by now that I simply had to go back.  

This time, my luck improved.  Two males were singing, and perhaps each inspired the other to be a little less reticent.  I was able to get recordings, but it would be even better if I could get pictures to go with them.  I focused on the slightly more accessible of the two.  

Round-tipped Coneheads can be green or brown – I’ve found both color forms to be common here.  I suspected the one I was pursuing was the brown form, as he was so impossible to see him in the dry grasses and curled, brown goldenrod leaves. 

Suddenly – there he was!  I couldn’t believe it!  Could I get closer if I crawled toward him, even though my hair would become a goldenrod seed bank and my field clothes would be forever covered with tick trefoil sticktights?

Here he is.

The Round-tipped Conehead you listened to ealier in this post was this North Kingsville Sand Barrens individual.

I’d now found this species in Summit, Cuyahoga, Lake, Geauga, Portage (added this year) and Ashtabula Counties!  I started a NE Ohio range map to keep track of all the locations where I’d heard  them.   But since I didn’t yet know if they were west of Cleveland my next stop would be Lorain County.

They didn’t seem to be singing in the parks I checked, but I had one last stop I wanted to make.  I was certain they’d have to be present in the large meadow at the front of Lorain County Metroparks’ Sandy Ridge Reservation in North Ridgeville.  It’s easily accessed from the park entrance, so I walked and walked through the entire area listening for them.    

No luck.  It was almost sunset, and the park would be closing.  Maybe there really weren’t any Round-tipped Coneheads in Lorain County after all.  

When I left the park and turned on to nearby Case Road, a familiar buzzing sound penetrated right into my car.  

Just how close was this conehead to the road?  And where in the world could I pull over and get out? 

Here was a new set of problems: a conehead singing at a  large, expensive private residence.  Amazingly, this one was actually singing from the grass near the road.  I pulled over as much as I could in order to get a recording, and it seemed that I should really be able to find this individual for photographs. 

Of course, he stopped singing and I could not wait to see if he’d resume. The road was too narrow, my car looked like I was a motorist in trouble, and this was someone’s property.  It was not a plan. 

But I thought I’d heard more than one, and I subsequently realized that a second individual was singing in a soybean field almost directly across the road.  However, the soybeans were right next to another very large, expensive house and property, and the residents appeared to be outside.  

Another field close to these two residences also had a singing Round-tipped Conehead, but it wasn’t safely accessible.  Recordings would have to suffice, especially after a concerned farmer driving past in his pickup stopped to see if I was OK.  “I imagine you have help on the way?”  Time to move along…

So just how widespread are Round-tipped Coneheads?  I know they’re new arrivals to the snow belt counties of Lake and Geauga, as I have only started hearing them in the past 5 years.  Here's the current range map from Singing Insects of North America...

...and here's the map I've complied with ongoing entries from Linda Gilbert as well.  The link to the map is below the photo if you'd like to see the locations of all the points we've added.

Round-tipped Coneheads in Northeast Ohio (Rainsong map) 


Each year, I find them a little farther north and east. How long have they been in Lorain County west of Cleveland and Summit County south of Cleveland?  I guess I’ll never know that part of the story – only that they’re established in both counties now.

NE Ohio’s very common Sword-bearing Coneheads and recently-added Round-tipped Coneheads aren’t the only coneheads here, as I am learning.

Nebraska Coneheads are common west of Cleveland. They are so common on Kelleys Island in Lake Erie that I don’t know how anyone can sleep with their windows open.  The first Nebraska Conehead I ever heard was in eastern Lorain County, but I hadn’t heard them in Cuyahoga County or east.   

We’re finding a few of them east of Cleveland.  I said “we,”, as I am including my longtime friend and Collaborator in Conehead Research, Geauga Park district Naturalist Linda Gilbert. 

Between us, we’ve documented some Nebraskas in Geauga County and I have one from Summit County.  The one below was singing in the power line corridor at Frohring Meadows, Geauga Park District, in Bainbridge Township.  He was in buckthorns and, of course, dropped into the vegetation when I approached to try to get a photo.

It will be interesting to see/hear if they are moving east or if they remain isolated individuals that turn up every once in a while.

There are a few other conehead pioneers from southern Ohio making their way up here, too.   I found a Slightly-musical Conehead at Burton Wetland State Nature Preserve on 7-30-11 when I was doing a cricket/katydid survey for the Geauga Park District, which manages the preserve.  I recognized the song because I’d heard in at the Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton (photo below) – and on the Songs of Insects CD that lives in my car.  

I was astonished!  I was only able to get a somewhat diagnostic photo before he dropped into the vegetation and disappeared, but his cone was incredibly long.   I went back the next night with Linda, and other times after that.  I never heard him again.  Someone probably ate him.   I haven’t heard one anywhere up here since.  

My final Conehead story is a new discovery this year, and the credit goes to Linda Gilbert.  A very loud conehead – possibly more than one – was singing at the edge of a cornfield in Geauga County not far from her home.   She thought it had to be a Robust Conehead, which neither of us had ever heard before.  It was so…LOUD!

I joined her the first evening I could do so.  There we were, on another rural road with ditches on either side but enough traffic to make walking on the road feel unsafe.  Oh, and I did I mention that it was dark and fog was forming?   We walked up and down both sides of the road but the mystery conehead was not singing.

We drove around some other nearby fields, listening for very loud coneheads to no avail. When we returned to our first location later, our target individual had begun to sing quite assertively right next to the cornfield fence!  It seemed possible that we just might be able to get close to him as long as he’d keep singing and not dive down into the vegetation, never to reappear.

You can see the outcome of our (mostly) patient search right here in Linda’s photos. 

Here’s his song. 

He’s not even a Robust Conehead – he is a False Robust Conehead, which is definitely a southern Ohio species! 

But it was already September.  Summer and fall of 2014 were not been very kind to crickets and katydids; the cool, rainy weather resulted in insects maturing much later than usual with no extension of their season in the later autumn.  We had hoped to relocate him - or find other members of his species - before fall was over, but we did not.

It’s mid-November now and it may as well be winter.  Cleveland is experiencing day after day of temperatures 15-20 degrees below normal and the inevitable lake effect snow that Lake Erie (and Lake Huron) are sending to NE Ohio.  I’m consoling myself with meadow memories and looking forward to next summer, when I hear my first coneheads singing in the grasses.