I love when it gets cool enough at night for us to put the whole house fan on instead of the air conditioner. The past few nights have allowed for that, and my sleep has been deep. This evening we don’t have any electrical cooling device running, and I’m sitting here in our living room with the front door open thoroughly enjoying my summer loves, the crickets and katydids.
And as if right on cue, yes, Screech Owl, I hear you. Yes, you too are my love – but my appreciation for you is capable of being expressed year-round. Crickets are more three-season roommates (sometimes literally) and katydids really truly only seem to span mid to late-summer through early fall.
I don’t think I will ever tire of immersing myself in countryside night sounds.
A Lucky Step
The other night, Karl and I were walking home in the dark. The sky was particularly opaque from a blanket of clouds that almost looked like a billowy down comforter. Even though the sun had set, we usually would have been able to see in the residual light. Not that night, though.
As we were walking down the final hill toward our home, I was striding down the hill and felt a rather large ‘thing’ bump into my foot. I suspected it was a frog or a toad from the feel of its skin against mine, even though the encounter was brief.
I yelped involuntarily, of course; glad I hadn’t landed squarely on it. I squinted and tried to will my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
I saw a dark blob on the road and knew it could be either what I was seeking or a bunch of leaves. Using my flash to see where it was and identify it, this lovely specimen forgave me for scaring it and getting in its way as it made its way across the road.
And then it actually sat still enough for me to take its photo. It blended in remarkably well with the leaves at the side of the road. A beautiful creature. A lucky step – for both of us.
I’m sitting here with our front door open. It’s the 27thof October, and it’s mild enough outside that I have the front door open so the swan songs of the crickets and katydids can filter in unimpeded. They were so comforting tonight that they lulled me into a premature slumber.
I’ve written many times of the joy crickets, katydids, and peepers give me, especially when they make their debut appearance of the season. But the truth is, I never tire of their voices. I love having them be the background soundtrack of my life.
Tonight’s Walk
Karl and I took advantage of the complete transformation of the weather today to take a walk this evening. A vast amount of leaves had been knocked down in the torrential rains that pelted our area this morning. So this evening’s walk in nearly 70 degree temperatures (even though the sun had already set) was all the more remarkable.
We were afforded a magnificent view of the stars, unimpeded by moonlight (since it’s a new moon today!), yet serenaded by the heartiest of crickets and katydids. The survivors of the season, the holdouts, the elders, shared their words of wisdom while we gazed upwards, marveling at the brilliance of the stars, which in a way was more akin to a winter sky in clarity than the summery temperatures would imply.
Which Reminds Me
A couple of evenings this week, we slept with our bedroom windows open. Again, these ‘tween times are my favorite. I love it when there are no mechanical noises disturbing the silence. No air conditioners, no whole house fan (although that is comforting), and no humidifier, the noise we unfortunately endure throughout the winter.
There may be three weeks or so, give or take, in the spring and then again in the fall, when the temperatures drop outside enough to cool the whole house down all by themselves, with just the windows being open. Those are the times when I usually hear the screech owls and Great Horneds. Of course, the neighbors’ two wonderful donkeys, who decide to bellow brays that emanate from the bowels of their beings and (again) sound like the Sand People from the first Star Wars movie (Episode IV).
This past Wednesday and Thursday evenings, though, Karl and I both shot up in bed at the sounds coming in our window. Well, we weren’t quite as spooked the second night, so Thursday’s experience really was just another opportunity to discern the nature of the creatures vocalizing.
Coyotes
Yep, we are almost certain the calls, yips, and just plain weird noises that woke us both nights were coyotes. I’m sure, if anyone from out west is reading this blog, you’re probably rolling your eyes and wondering why I’m making such a big deal over hearing these creatures.
That pack yipping and yowling just is not something people expect to hear in this neck of the woods. And adding a bit more of an interesting twist to the experience (which really was extraordinarily cool to begin with – albeit a bit worrisome with respect to our cat, Cletus, whom we only allow out at night, for the sake of the birds) was the fact that Karl and I each picked Coyote in one form or another (either as main card or as the undercard) within a week or so of having them show up basically in our back yard.
Hmm. Are we being told to lighten up? Embrace our playful, irreverent sides? Or is the message to beware of falling for the old stories and sabotaging ourselves in the process?
As I write this final sentence, I realize that although my front door is open and the only thing separating me from the outside is the screen door, I do not hear one single sound outside. Not a leaf rustling, not a cricket chirping. Utter and total silence. It is deafening.
The Ubiquitous Yellow Flowers (beautiful but probably invasive) – Photo: L. Weikel
Late Summer Buzz
No, I’m not referencing the name of an exotic cocktail to be enjoyed while sitting ‘round a crackling campfire. Nor am I alluding to the effects I might feel should I be imbibing said exotic cocktail.
Instead, I’m describing the constant drone of crickets or perhaps other similarly situated bugs that begins during late summer nights. It’s a curious sound, really, for it sometimes can meld so seamlessly into the background that we almost don’t hear it. It’s sort of almost the natural equivalent of static – something that comes to our attention when it suddenly stops and we realize how profound the silence is when that background drone is absent.
My sense is that the drone is crickets; crickets that are nearing the end of their lives and are, in their way, stuck on their ‘on’ switch. For whatever reason, they can’t stop. They’re not trying to get individual attention – you, know, attract a mate – the way they were at the beginning of their life cycle.
Death Drone
Now they’re just holding a single note. One very long, very monotonous note. A droning tone. This droning, which I suppose is not actually, technically, droning since it’s much higher pitched than a conventional (or even dictionary definition of drone – which almost always specifies ‘low’) strikes me as a death call.
They’re stuck on ‘on.’ Until they’re shut down. Or shut off. Permanently.
Mother Nature’s Night Sounds
I’m writing about this phenomenon because I’m sitting on my couch with the front door open and the sounds of nature are keeping me company. The death drone of the crickets is the most noticeable – at least at the moment.
Lucky for me, it’s the rare car that whisks past at this time of night. Instead, I’m treated to Mother Nature’s night sounds.
Last night I had a screech owl trilling right outside my front door. It had to have been hanging out in the towering pine trees leaning wearily against each other just across the road. Strangely, I was awakened at 5:18 a.m. to a couple of screech owls chatting just outside our bedroom window. It was their pointed conversation that penetrated my dream and called my attention back to this Middle World.
What’s That?
I have to laugh: just as I was writing that last sentence, the slow-building bray of one of my adored donkeys that graze on the hillside behind our home began its deep yet vague, hard to pinpoint, call-of-the-sand-people sounding moan** that ends with its inevitable onkey-honk. For the life of me, I’m always caught off guard when I hear the first couple seconds of that very odd exhortation. I don’t know why – it’s one of my favorite sounds (day or night). Yet my mind always pings off that sound initially, insists that my ears zero in on the source, demanding I make sense of it. You’d think I’d recognize it immediately by now.
Which makes me wonder: why am I always fooled?
I ask that question and suddenly a cricket or three suddenly stop holding their note. It’s almost a relief from the pressure I didn’t realize was building in my head. My brain can relax, and the reprieve allows me to notice other crickets holding a slightly different note.
All of this reminds me of an especially peculiar ‘vision’ I awoke to the other morning. I swear, I opened my eyes and the image below was the first thing I saw. It took me a moment, as you can imagine, to make sense of it.
Rocco’s Toy – Photo: L. Weikel
It’s a reflection of a small plastic toy that Karl put on his nightstand, an odd souvenir from a friendship he’d struck with one of the longest attorney-client relationships I had in my practice: a man I cared for and represented for just under 30 years.
He passed away a few years ago. And I think of him more often than I – or he, I imagine – would’ve ever thought I would.
We’re entering that season, I guess.
**Surely you ‘get’ this reference to the scene in Star Wars – Episode IV (the first one) when Luke meets Obi-Wan for the first time?
