The
woodlands around Lower New York Bay are starting to glow with fall color, there
are big bluefish in the bay, and waves of autumn migrants are heading south. All around are the symbols that authenticate
the season, a time of transition.
Just
about a month ago, when it was still summer, the nights were alive with the
sounds and lights of insects. There were flamboyant fireflies and brightly
colored moths, and the great loud methodical chorus from little green katydids
and grasshoppers. Watching and listening for these little critters was a good way
to entertain yourself during a sultry, long night.
Now
with autumn here and cold winds blowing, it seems the night insects have all
got the message. The party's over.
Gone
are the fireflies and katydids. There are just a handful of moths. The few remaining
grasshoppers can only manage a scant two-note call. What a mournful autumn
sound.
In
such a world then it was wonderful to have a chance to say goodbye one last
time to a night-calling insect before they all faded away.
The
other day at Cheesequake State Park in New Jersey, a cold, crisp morning walk revealed a chilly
Short-horned Grasshopper lying still near a grassy meadow. I picked it up, warmed
the little critter with my breath, and then set it back down near the tall
grasses.
It
was a beautiful looking critter, long, slender and stout. It was mostly green with
a little bit of brown and black. There were even some cryptic black markings
along the side of its large hind legs, which looked well- adapted for jumping. The
antennae were short, the wings were long and folded. I'm guessing the
grasshopper was a girl, because females
generally have a long "ovipositor" at the tip of their abdomens, which
is used to lay eggs. All the more reason to try to save this grasshopper from
freezing. The female might have some eggs still to lay on the ground.
After
a short time, the little 3-inch long grasshopper seemed more lively after I
placed it on the ground. I wasn't sure if she was happy or not, but it did appear
as if she turned her head to look at me before taking off with a giant 20-inch
leap farther into the grasses. It's the little things in life, right?
That
night, I heard one single grasshopper calling from the woods in my backyard. The
final few calls of what will probably be the last grasshopper of the season.
A
lone night-singing insect to call out that winter is near. In time, though, more
will come back next year around Lower New York Bay along with their musical
talents and seasonal songs. For now, fall is in the air.
Add a comment