6:30 a.m. and the woods are virtually devoid of birdsong. It takes me half an hour to notice the crickets in the grass, that steady ringing.
crickets
6/28/2008
The catbird sounds self-critical, adding a brief aside after every phrase. The chipping sparrow’s never-ending alarm sets a cricket off.
6/9/2008
In a hurry this morning, I go over to the garden, looking for anything of interest. Crickets. An old man with a stick comes down the road.