I know no prettier or more limpid insect-song than his, heard in the deep stillness of an August evening. How often have I lain down on the ground among the rosemary bushes of my karmas, to listen to the delightful concert!

The Italian Cricket swarms in my enclosure. Every tuft of red-flowering rock-rose has its chorister; so has every clump of lavender. The bushy arbutus-shrubs, the turpentine-trees, all become orchestras. And in its clear voice, so full of charm, the whole of this little world, from every shrub and every branch, sings of the gladness of life.

High up above my head the Swan stretches its great cross along the Milky Way: below, all round me, the insect’s symphony rises and falls. Infinitesimal life telling its joys makes me forget the pageant of the stars. Those celestial eyes look down upon me, placid and cold, but do not stir a fibre within me. Why? They lack the great secret—life. Our reason tells us, it is true, that those suns warm worlds like ours; but when all is said, this belief is no more than a guess, it is not a certainty.

In your company, on the contrary, O my Cricket, I feel the throbbing of life, which is the soul of our lump of clay; and that is why, under my rosemary-hedge, I give but an absent glance at the constellation of the Swan and devote all my attention to your serenade! A living speck—the merest dab of life—capable of pleasure and pain, is far more interesting to me than all the immensities of mere matter.

In the same online text of the Book of Insects, you can find Fabre’s description of hunting for crickets as a child and his explanation of the anatomy and mechanics of the cricket’s song.

Jean-Henri Fabre

Common Black Cricket

— Comments —

Karl D. writes:

I have one of those clock/radios that also comes complete with numerous sounds of nature to fall asleep too. One of my favorite choices during the long cold nights of winter is the “summer evening” program. A beautiful loop of a symphony of crickets, frogs and other chirping creatures of the night. You can quite easily forget that it is 15 degrees outside along with a colorless landscape. A little off-topic, but as someone who resides in the Northeast, have you ever noticed a bird who’s song often sounds like ‘O Sole Mio?’ There is another one who sings a song that sounds an awful lot Beethoven’s 5th. I always get a good laugh whenever I here either of those birds but can never seem to identify the singer.

Laura writes:

Hmm, I’d have to think about that. Try the Cornell Ornithology Lab to identify those songs.

Mary writes:

It’s hard to put into words how the nightly summer symphony moves my heart (more than the stars, yes – but the two together are lovely). I guess since I’ve always lived in the same area it has been a constant and therefore calls up shadows of memory spanning my life from early childhood, when it lulled us to sleep through open windows – and what a summer it was for open windows! – up to the present, for now it lulls my own family to sleep. In my old home, bullfrogs added their bit to the symphony; in my current home, they are replaced by peepers. My kids have read Fabre’s books and I guess it’s time I did the same.

For Karl D., if it’s a simple two-note rendition of “O Sole Mio,” the song of the Chickadee comes to mind, but checking the Cornell Ornithology Lab is a good idea. Speaking of birds, around here the warblers are starting to come back through in mixed flocks – with subtler plumage though – making them, in the words of Roger Tory Peterson, “confusing Fall warblers”. Lots of great birding coming soon – hooray!

Meredith writes:

My experience with crickets is somewhat different. In Texas, crickets swarm in the fall, and are seen crawling up walls of large buildings everywhere. My dorm in college was completely inundated with them, inside and out, to the point of us having to put a net or pillow case over the air conditioner vents to prevent them falling on us at night. In the morning there would be thousands of dead and dying crickets in the hall on the way to the bathroom. They would get into our closets and drawers and eat holes in our clothes, wake us up in the middle of the night with their lovesick chirping and they attracted the ubiquitous grackle, who would feast on the little morsels. Believe me when I say, that you did not ever park under a tree in the grackle zone, nor did you want to be downwind from the malodorous “grackle tree.” My appreciation for the cricket dwindled substantially that year. I moved home the next year and commuted to school until I finished my degree.

However, my kids and I love this little song by Josquin des Prez.

Apparently, it was written as a gentle reminder to one of his patrons to pay him. Upon reading that, I instantly thought of the impact it might have made if it was sung repeatedly under said patron’s window at, say, three o’clock in the morning.

Laura writes:

I don’t mind a couple of crickets in the house but hundreds would be disgusting. We don’t get plagues of crickets here.

Paul writes:

Although here in the sub-tropical New Orleans area crickets can be bothersome, I always treated them with respect. As my mother would shriek, I would carefully creep up and trap the forlorn fellas in my hands. I would (and do) open the door and toss them out (since they can fly). While building new subdivisions in essentially this wetland, they combine with fauna such as frogs, Cicadas, and gators to become overwhelmingly loud outdoors at night, especially after the frequent rains.