Checking for ripe grapes, I tried to look nonchalant while actually hanging around, listening.
Summer sounds are so different from those in springtime, when all nature is the first blush of youth. Gone is all the twittering between the birds, perhaps for fear of litigation.
A field sparrow trilled its beautiful song, but gave out with only the first few bars and ignored the repeat sign. In springtime, it was the sound track of my life. Gone now, like good radio stations.
Where are the robins? With the heat and drought, worms have vanished from their menu. I believe the robins all met for iced tea at Denney's and decided to take advantage of the off-season migration specials. While I was hiding out in the AC, they slipped out of town. Even now, they are having coffee in cool Newfoundland. They do that disappearing act every year at this time. We don't notice because they leave in small groups and fly under the radar.
Some mockingbirds are seen, but they, too, have stopped serenading for mates. They used up their huge repertoire and are waiting for other songs to imitate. They do not fear copyright infringement litigation.
A Shriek in the Night
When I was out stargazing, the stillness was broken by an unidentified bird, not a whippoorwill. It sounded as if it had completely lost its mind. Perhaps it was a form of heatstroke or heat-induced hysteria. A person so rarely has the opportunity to hear a bird have a nervous breakdown. Okay, it could have been a screech owl.
Spanish Frogs
Not being a nature photographer, this was the best shot I could get of a frog hopping over the milweed-covered pond. The frogs only jump when I walk along the shore and it is hard for me to take the picture while walking, because then the camera would be moving. I guess they are Spanish frogs because they sound like they are using castanets.
One evening at dusk, there was such a doleful sound coming from down by the pond that I almost rushed down to help someone in distress. Then I heard it again. Now I understand where the expression "croaked" came into being. It was pretty scary.
Shrill Voices
Then there are the insects that make me think my ears are ringing. Or maybe they leave my ears ringing. These are the locusts and other emitters of high-pitched sounds. The noise is just within the range of human hearing, unfortunately. It seems I can hear them even after they've stopped piercing the air with all that shrill droning.
Back to the Grapevine
I got to thinking about what they say about eavesdroppers, that they never hear anything good about themselves. I imagined a locust leading the chorus, saying, "You cicadas and crickets need to come in more on that last bit. Louder! I can still hear her playing Santa Lucia on her infernal accordion."
