Time for nature's summer symphony

We've been skunked. The highly anticipated appearance of periodical cicadas this summer was, well, a flop.

These fabled insects got top billing as THE entomological event of the millennium -- but they stood us up out here. Sure, there were a few outbreaks here and there, but in most areas of Kane County it was a no-show. A disappointing non-event.

Do we get our tickets back? No. But wait! Turn off the air conditioning tonight, open your windows, and listen. There's a raucous concert going on and this one is NOT canceled. It's the underrated yet utterly astounding performance of thousands of six-legged musicians who take the stage every August in our woodlands.

The pulsating soundscape of late summer is brought to us courtesy of katydids and their cousins, the crickets. These insects belong to a group known as orthoptera and are collectively known as orthopterans. They tirelessly perform, trill after trill, buzz after buzz, night after night until the first good frost in October.

The mysteries of orthopteran song have intrigued humans for many centuries.

Asian cultures, in particular, have refined appreciation of insect music. "In ancient times," write Lang Elliott and Wil Hershberger in "The Songs of Insects," "city dwellers (in China and Japan) would take autumn vacations to remote areas of the countryside in order to appreciate particular insect songs or choruses known for their inherent beauty."

Now those are folks who have their priorities straight!

The hows and whys of this beautiful music were unveiled in the 20th century. Technological advances allowed scientists to research insect anatomy, physiology and behavior, and most importantly, to record insect sound.

Harvard University physics professor George W. Pierce analyzed sound transmission in underwater communications and antisubmarine defense during World War I but turned his attention in retirement to more fun sound wave challenges, insect calls.

With instruments primitive by today's standards, Pierce cracked the codes of orthopterans. His graduate assistant, Vincent Dethier, popularized his work in "Crickets and Katydids, Concerts and Solos" -- a delightful book that opens up the world of orthopteran music to the layman and scientist alike.

The mechanics of the music are straightforward. Much like using a wooden spoon on an old-fashioned washboard to make music, orthopterans rub two body parts together in a process known as stridulation. In the case of grasshoppers, the hind legs are rubbed against the forewings to make sound.

Crickets and katydids opt for the wing-to-wing method. They elevate their wings in the process and enhance the song by vibrating the wing membranes.

Katydids are left-handed musicians, always using a file on the left wing against a scraper on the right. Snowy tree crickets use posture to amplify their sound. They may position themselves in front of a leaf -- or sometimes inside a rolled-up leaf -- so that the leaf will act as a megaphone.

The motivation to make music is familiar: courtship and mating. Males take the lead in this arena and thus music-making among orthopterans is an exclusively male endeavor. Females, of course, must be able to hear the music. And not only must they hear, but they also must be able to discriminate among different calls.

How is orthopteran music received by females? What do they hear? What are they listening for? Females are able to enjoy the love songs by virtue of their strategically placed hearing organs called tympana. In the case of crickets and katydids, these "ears" are on the base of the front legs; for grasshoppers, the first abdominal segment.

Elliott and Hershberger explain that it's not the pitch of the music that pleases the ladies; it's all in the timing and intensity of the calls. The females are attuned to subtle differences in the intervals and decibels of the calls. Discriminating gals select their guys accordingly.

Where does this all happen? Just about everywhere. Dethier points out that there's an orthopteran for every habitat -- woodlands, wetlands and prairies alike.

The most vociferous orthopterans perform in woodlands. From the oaks and the hickories and the maples and the basswoods, true katydids take lead vocals. Their raspy, ratcheting racket from the treetops is deafening on a warm August night. You'll hear them in the woods arguing incessantly, "Katy did!" "No she didn't!" "Yes she DID!" "No she DIDN'T!"

Evidently this is a very sexy argument, as the males have been using this debate forum to attract females for millennia.

By contrast, snowy tree crickets make lovely chirping calls that, altogether, create a soothing night-time chorus in the summer woods. Their moniker comes from their whitish appearance, not from the season of their calling. In fact, when the snow flies snowy tree crickets will be long gone.

These dainty insects do have a meteorological connection, however. Their calls provide an accurate temperature reading. Count the number of chirps in 13 seconds, add that number to 40 and voila! You've got the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit.

There are well over 50 other species of orthopterans making music in our midst with names are as colorful as their songs: virtuoso katydid, elegant bush katydid, mischievous bird grasshopper, confused ground cricket, slightly musical conehead and more.

Species descriptions vary widely, yet the effect is the same. These fascinating insects provide the sumptuous soundscape of summer.

For now, forget those party-pooper periodical cicadas and the jam that didn't happen. Revel instead in the cacophonous katydids and the crooning crickets, a musical extravaganza with encores year after year.