It’s the second beautiful day in a row here in Cambridge, cause for outright glee in these heavily wintered parts. Spring can’t be too far off, soon after that will be summer, and somewhere in all this weather will come those night-singing insects, the crickets and katydids. These bugs emit such beautiful calls, but we usually tune them out, mostly noticing them only as a signal of silence. It’s a strange thing, really, how the presence of these distinct calls largely illustrates for us a broader absence of noise. John Himmelman’s new book, Cricket Radio, is all about tuning back in.
Himmelman, the author and illustrator of dozens of nature books, explains the human brain’s propensity for tuning out ever-present sounds and then makes the case for how and why we should reawaken our brains to the sounds of these night-singers. As Himmelman tells it, opening our ears to insect calls can be more than just an escape from the cacophony of modern life. It can be a little bridge to the sounds of the past. He’s driven by a love for a neglected corner of our everyday lives, and is determined to share it.
And share it he does, in Cricket Radio. He takes us along with him as he hunts insects, through the silent approaches, the painstaking waits, and the frustration of a cricket bounding off before it can be properly photographed and recorded:
After every step or two, stop and listen. If the insect is still calling, chances are you haven’t been seen or heard yet. If it has stopped, don’t resume moving until it calls again. While you’re waiting for your original caller to begin singing, listen for others nearby, should you need to abandon that one. Giving up on a particular individual you may have been stalking for fifteen minutes is a tough call to make. You’ve already invested the time in this one. However, there’s a chance that if it remains silent for too long, it could be because you are right on top of it. If this is the case, it will stay hidden until you move on. Of course, as soon as you give up and move toward the next one, it will start calling again. I am not above swearing at a bug.
If you’ve never given it a second thought, crickets are just crickets. But cricketing is a lot like birding, in that there are vast numbers of these bugs, each with their own look and call. Cricket Radio explains the endless variety, and Himmelman’s ability to tell them all apart by sight and by sound is fascinating. Each is distinct, and when Himmelman brings them home to observe more closely he has to build different types of environments for each. In the book’s last chapter, he explains how to build your own cricket radio at home, the perfect summer project for nature lovers. And don’t think you need pristine fields in which to hunt—one of the book’s best tales is of a chase that begins in a motel parking lot. As the Wall Street Journal notes, Himmelman’s “enchantment with the entomological soundscape is so complete that he can turn the most unpromising site—his Connecticut backyard, for example—into an insect lover's terra incognita, shimmering with possibility.”
To give you a sense of the variety of night-singing insects and the challenge of telling them all apart, we’ve put together a little web page where you can see and hear six different insects. Internet streaming cricket radio, if you will. Bookmark the page and listen for awhile whenever you want some moments of calm or a shot of summer. But also to get yourself primed for appreciating the real bugs outside. Then find a copy of Cricket Radio when you’re ready for your next lesson in tuning in.
