I CAN’T SEE THE FOREST FOR THE TREES

There is an expression, can’t see the forest for the trees.  It literally means getting so caught up in the details that one loses sight of the problem, the question, or the situation.  But in nature, it is the opposite. I can’t see the trees for the forest. And teaching a new class is just like that for me. I can’t see the children for the class.  Until I understand each child better, I don’t know what they need. I hope my lessons are meaningful but it takes me time to discover who each person is -  their individual strengths and challenges, likes and dislikes, friends and frienemies - before I know how best to steer attention and ignite curiosity.  That is my aim. Ignite the children’s curiosity so they become nature teachers too. We simply don’t have enough nature teachers and time is running out for the trees and the bees. But that is morbid. My aim is to inspire.   

I have been teaching a nature class called Naturally Fun to four and five-year olds for the last five years.  I have created a curriculum that introduces children to trees and leaves; birds, reptiles, and bugs; rocks and water.  I think I like my Watershed Class best but the Christmas Bird Count and Leaf Collection and Big Bug Dig are lots of fun too that it is hard to choose just one.  And every year concludes with a day at a nearby nature center where the kids get to go creeking. When the parents come, I feel like cupid because now I have gotten Mom and Dad to fall in love with nature too. 

My new class is a mixed Montessori group of elementary school kids. I have three 6-year olds, three 8-year olds and three 9-year olds. All are boys except for one girl who I will call Eve.  She is one of the 6-year olds and already showing her mettle; I am quite fond of her to say the least.  I am working with a seasoned teacher who is just as excited as the kids to learn more about nature and she patiently helps me to stay on track. Being a nature teacher means I am a little distracted. How could I not be? There is so much to see and tell! Where to begin?? Then I hear Julie Andrews start to sing and I think, oh right. Start from the very beginning. I am also working on curbing my wit. I am funny. But whether the kids understand my humor or not, they devolve easily.  Admittedly, I pack too much into my hour-long lessons…  I am working on that.

Recently, I came across a great term in Richard Louvs book, Last Child in the Woods. It is called Directed Attention Fatigue.  The way I interpret it, I should talk less. Smile more. And let the kids discover the woods themselves. (Thank you, Lin Manuel Miranda.)

Funny. This isn’t even the blog I wanted to write. I wanted to share what the Fernwood kids dug up. But today's lesson had the kids changing location every ten minutes so that I cycled three groups of three children to survey three sites and look for more than three invertebrates. THEN they had to count what they saw and write it down. YIKES! Even my head is spinning now that I think about how much they had to do in so little time.  The plan looked good on paper but it was unrealistic and neurotic. Fortunately, Adam (who would rather be engineering the trail,) saw a green, wingless insect on a spicebush leaf just as we were calling it a wrap, and he called me over to ask, What is it?  Fascinated by its color, I said, I don’t know! Hum. My guess it is an insect despite being wingless.

After the kids left, I spent time getting to know the neon bugger better. I am still not sure if it is an insect but it has most of the qualifiers: six legs, two antennae, maybe three body parts but no wings. Trapped inside an acrylic bug box, I discovered it climbs quickly on tall articulated legs; it reminded me of a daddy long leg.  And when it felt threatened, it folded up like a pop-up tent. I watched the critter for 10 minutes before walking further into the woods to look for more insects. What I found was this: a living snail underneath a huge oyster-like mushroom, (all the others we found were just dead, dried and empty shells,) and a white speck or feather floating in the air. It landed briefly on a limb near me before taking flight again. It wasn’t lint or fluff or feather after all. It was alive.

Next week I plan to repeat this week’s lesson but with a few edits. The kids will look for invertebrates at one site (not three,) and take as long as they want to see the bug for the invertebrates for themselves.

 

PS Here is the incredible mushroom. Can YOU see the shiny snail shell? Hint: It is a tiny glint and it is located in the lower right quadrant.

FIRST DAY IN FERNWOOD FOREST

Maintaining focus was harder than I thought it would be. Todays scavenger hunt did not include looking for insects or other creepy crawlers. But right in the middle of my blah, blah, blah speech about these sacred woods and what to look for it  happened:

A spider.

Mack practically jumped into my arms. (I think his name is Mack; they are all new to me.)  When I asked who likes spiders, everyone raised their hands. I like spiders too. Then we watched the spider  wind its way up over my head to feast on an insect it had caught earlier in its web.  Because we were already side-lined, I explained that spiders liquefy its preys guts and drink it. But here is the problem. I was not able to get a picture, therefore I cannot i.d. this spider. All I can say is that it was about the size of a wolf spider and it had a white patch on the back of its abdomen. There was no time for me to check out its web design because 1.) it was above my head and 2.) it was not the point of todays nature lesson.

THEN Gareth saw a worm, or so he thought, and he tugged my arm to get me to look at it.  It was a green, ½-inch worm and when it opened its mouth, it looked like his whole head was opening up.  Frankly, it reminded me of an alien movie. I was intrigued and really wanted to look at it longer but Gareth and I were the only ones who saw it. Then, as it happened, the 1/2-inch worm cut silk cord and dropped to the ground. Thank God because then I could get back to what I was doing…

BUT just as soon as we started on the scavenger hunt, someone shouted BEE! Is that a Bumblebee? NO, I replied. It’s a carpenter bee… or maybe a ground bee… I don’t know. But the bee seemed to be in  bad  shape so I moved it out of harms way.  No sense in anyone getting stung on their first day in Fernwood Forest.

Todays lesson was simply an introduction.  We weren’t supposed to talk about the animal kingdom yet.  But here is the thing: Fernwood Forest is a forgotten woods.  AND there is so much life in there!! I am looking forward to seeing things I haven’t explored yet and so are my  kids.

THAT’S DIFFERENT 

Stops me every time.

And stops my companion too.

Toward the end of a weekly training bike ride last Spring, I saw what I believed to be a bufflehead at Widewater and I made my bike buddy Kathy stop too. Its not the first time she has had to brake for birds.  On another ride along the canal just past MP12, bright orange feet grabbed my attention; it was all I saw before this wading bird flew into the woods.  Looking it up on my phone, I declared it a green heron. I don’t see them as often because they camouflage easily in foliage along the shore line.  But there it was plain as day and now Kathy has another Life Bird. (Kathy doesnt know it, but it is my aim to expand Kathy’s life list while I grow mine. Since 2018 started, my bird list has grown by 21 species but that is a story for another day.)

So many birds make the C&O Canal their home especially great blue herons which is a perennial favorite for most people; just think about all the artwork, wood and metal sculptures and note cards that adorn homes, yards and personal-style motifs – they are great blue herons.

Since we started biking in the Fall of 2017, we have braked for a solitary sandpiper, egret, kingfisher, king bird, wood duck, merganser, downy woodpecker, a barred owl and of course lots of eagles. Once we ran into a fellow bird enthusiast who set up a scope and let us look at the eagles nest across the river.

Bird calls stop us in our tracks too.  It is how we identified the yellow warbler. Lucky for us one was close by and waited while we made confirmation. I make Kathy listen for the eastern wood pewee all the time and sometimes make a fool of myself screaming queeeep, queeeep in the hopes of attracting a great crested flycatcher. And every once in a while, we hear a pileated laugh at us.

But birds aren’t the only reason we stop. I like snakes too. And snapping turtles and muskrats, (or was that a beaver we saw?)

POST SCRIPT

This here is the eastern wood pewee and it happens to be my favorite little bird. 

HIGH (F)LIGHTS FROM 

THE AUDUBON NATURALIST SOCIETY

36th ANNUAL BLOOMIN’ BIRDATHON

On May 8^th, Eric and I participated in our first bird count together for the benefit of one my favorite local charities – Audubon Naturalist Society located in Chevy Chase, Maryland.  Our adventure started at the “Bay House” with our friends Barbara, Eric, Greg and Barbara in Friendship, MD.  After breakfast and a lot of coffee, we began our count in the backyard, but before I could even adjust my binoculars, Eric, Barbara and Barbara started calling out species faster than I could write them. That’s when my Eric got the bright idea to simply record the names of the birds we spotted on his phone.  

“Does it count if you see more than one?” Barbara asked.

“It does not.” I said.

(My friends were very eager to help me score big but double-counting is a no-no. J)

The Bay House is located at Holland’s Point, a mile from one of the Chesapeake Bay’s most popular marina’s, Herrington Harbor.  We counted many familiar species as we walked to the end of Holland’s Point, but when we turned onto Bay Avenue and followed the road to a small public beach, I  saw my first Life Bird of the day - Least Sandpipers.  They look and act alot like Sanderlings but something about their little legs screamed, “Take a closer look at me.” And I did. They were yellow! After consulting my guide book I learned Least Sandpipers are fairly common. The  yellow legs of Least Sandpipers are a destinctive field mark; Sanderlings have black legs.

Field marks on birds are really important and up there with bird calls when it comes to properly identifying avian species.  These days I rely mostly on The Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Eastern North America because I like David Sibley’s illustrations but it turns out Roger Tory Peterson, who wrote the very first bird guide book, was also a member of our Audubon Naturalist Society. 

To back me up, Wiki says,

He developed the Peterson Identification System, and is known for the clarity of both his illustrations of field guides and his delineation of relevant field marks.^[4][5]

Paul R Ehrlich in The Birder's Handbook: A Field Guide to the Natural History of North American Birds (Fireside. 1988), said this about Peterson:

In this century, no one has done more to promote an interest in living creatures than Roger Tory Peterson, the inventor of the modern field guide.^[6]

(That’s all the references I will detail because 1.) I have lost my MLA Handbook and fear I will royally screw up, 2.) who cares about references. This is my story and it is time to continue tallying the birds.)

On the return trip from Hog Point, Eric spotted a Common Yellowthroat Warbler. I missed it. And I was really mad about it too because it’s one of the few warblers I actually know since my orange tabby Rex dropped one at my feet when we were living in Baltimore.  I’ll never forget that little bird and our feeble  attempts to save his life. 

Here is a list of all the birds we counted while enjoying our stay in Friendship, MD:

1.     American Goldfinch

2.     American Robin

3.     Canada Goose

4.     Catbird

5.     Common Yellowthroat Warbler

6.     Cormorant

7.     Eagle

8.     Fish Crow

9.     Grackle

10.  Great Blue Heron

11.  House Sparrow

12.  Least Sandpiper *

13.  Mallard

14.  Mockingbird

15.  Osprey

16.  Purple Martin

17.  Red Bellied Woodpecker

18.  Red-winged Blackbird

19.  Snowy Egret

20.  Wood Thrush

By Noon, Eric was urging me to pack up because we still had a lot of land to cover and birds to count before we reached our final destination at Walnut Point Inn on the Eastern Shore’s Tilghman Island.

Our next stop was Jug Bay Wetlands Sanctuary located on the Patuxent River in Lothian, Maryland.  We stopped here because last fall, when Eric was assisting me on my Chesapeake Bay Geology Report of the Patuxent River, we saw a Redheaded Woodpecker which is not to be confused with the Red-Bellied Woodpecker commonly seen and heard in my suburban neighborhood. (I recommend looking up their photos online.)  After a short while we were joined by more knowledgeable birders who told us Jug Bay is a popular fall migration place for Redheads to congregate.  Too bad.  I was hoping this bird would be the crown jewel of my bird count, however while we continued to talk with our new bird friends, they helped us identify our second Life Bird of the day – the Lesser Yellowleg Sandpiper!

Before I go any further I must tell you the trick of expanding your Life List:

WRITE IT DOWN IN YOUR BIRD FIELD GUIDE!

Include the date and place where you saw it in your field guide so you never forget then count it on your Life List. It doesn’t matter that you might never know how to i.d. it again. The fact is if you saw it once, it counts.  As aside, a few years ago, I sighted a Life List Bird with my son Bobby at McKee-Beshers Wildlife Management Area in Poolesville, MD but sadly I let it get away because I didn’t rush right home and write it in Sibley. All I remember of it is that it had stilt legs and it was a juvenile but it’s gone now. Like the threatened species it probably is. 

So write it down.

While at Jug Bay, we also saw a Scarlet Tanager. In fact, I should have mentioned it right away because it’s a Life Bird for Eric and probably my second or third time seeing it.  

The rest of the birds we counted at Jug Bay is here; it’s a short list because we were impatient to get on the road again and cross the Bay Bridge.

21.  Cardinal

22.  Carolina Chickadee

23.  Easter Phoebe

24.  Blue-gray Gnatcatcher – I made note of the notched tail

25.  House Finch

26.  Belted Kingfisher

27.  Lesser Yellowlegs Sandpiper

28.  Nuthatch

29.  Scarlet Tanager

It was 2PM by the time we were  back in our car and we were hungry so we abandoned our plans to go to Blackwater Wildlife Refuge and instead turned towards St. Michaels and Tilghman Island.

On the way to Tilghman Island, we saw our usual fine-feathered-friends, but it was not until we arrived at Black Walnut Point Inn and dared to enter the tick-infested pine forest that we saw lots of LGBs. (I know what you are thinking but LGB stands for Little Gray Birds and represent every species across the land when there is nary a field mark to see and identify it.) My guess is that we may have seen a Marsh Wren (definitely a Wren) and a Pine Warbler, so I counted it… and I hope you will indulge my fantasy because here’s another thing to know about Birders: we don’t tell fish tales.

Here’s the complete list of birds we saw while visiting Black Walnut Point Inn:

30.  Barn Swallow

31.  Black Vulture

32.  Chipping Sparrow

33.  European Starling

34.  Herring Gull

35.  Laughing Gull

36.  Marsh Wren

37.  Mourning Dove

38.  Titmouse

39.  Tree Swallow

40.  Turkey Vulture

41.  Warbler – Maybe a Pine Warbler

42.  Wild Turkey

During the fall and winter migration seasons, Black Walnut Point Inn is a great destination and one of my favorite bed and breakfasts.  Several years ago, Eric and I saw Canada Geese migrating by the 1000’s, flying in waves across miles of sky overhead Route 50. We saw Snow geese and Black Scoters that day too.  I share these birds sightings with you not because I can count them for the Birdathon, (I can't),) but because it's worth going to the Eastern Shore between December and February if you enjoy waterfowl.  

The rules of Bloomin' Birdathon dictate I can only count birds and flowers I see within a 24-hour period.  For the record, I decided not to count flowers. So, in 10 hours, on both sides of the Bay, Eric and I counted 42 birds including two Life Birds for me and one more for Eric.  Next year we will try our luck counting songbirds in Western Maryland!  How tweet will that be?

Photo Credits: www.audubon.org

Guilty Pleasure

It’s becoming a guilty pleasure every time I visit Mom that Bea tells me I’m a good daughter and Newton strides over for a one-arm hug.  Mom is still having a difficult time adjusting to her new surroundings but I am seeing progress.  She is wrestling with her inner Girl Scout and calling up her can-do spirit.   The food is lousy but she eats it.  The room is spinning but she stands up.  She can’t remember she went to knitting but she will trust me if I tell her we did.

I thought dementia was simply about forgetting but apparently it is about a whole lot more and I am just beginning to figure it out.  It’s so painful to watch.  I’ve coined a phrase, “we don’t put our dogs through this,” but I don’t even know what I am saying.  Who is putting Mom through this?  Certainly not me.  Bea told me I’m a good daughter.

I know when I walk out the room, she doesn’t remember I came.  She can’t remember that she ate lunch in the dining room with her new friend Bea. She’s not even sure Bea is her new friend but she is starting to recognize her face. 

A Cat Scan (not a Dog Scan,) shows Mom’s brain has shrunk.  I wonder if this is the reason the room spins for her now.  I ask and I’m told that isn’t dementia.  Who knows why the room spins, I certainly don’t and neither does anyone else.  And just when I thought Mom couldn’t reason anymore, she tells me what she’s got to do.  She’s got to stop trying to figure out what’s what and get stronger so she can walk out the door.  It’s her guilty pleasure and each day she’s dreaming about it.

GRAND CANYON MULE FAIL

Listen to you heart

It’s pounding a message that only you can hear

Until tears spring your eyes, flood your face and you can’t catch your breath.

That’s when everyone finally knows what you’ve been telling them all along is true:

“I’m afraid of heights.”

This story begins in 2014 when I said to Eric, "Let’s get away.  I’m 50; you’ll soon be 50.  We need to do something big together." Then I suggested we go to Paris. 

Eric said, “I hate Paris.” (Don’t know why since he’s never been to Paris.)

I said, “You can’t just say no.  You have to make a counter-offer.”

A few months later Eric came back with his counter offer: “I booked us a two-night stay at Phantom Ranch at the bottom of Grand Canyon.  I’m hiking and you’re taking the mule.”

I looked at him calmly and said, “I’m afraid of heights; why can’t I hike with you instead?” 

In the month leading up to Grand Canyon, I started to feel a tourniquet on my heart.  I thought it was holiday stress... you know, Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, how the heck will I ever get the halls decked, the presents wrapped and still manage the holy peace that comes with celebrating my faith and relishing the love of family and friends surrounding me.  As the time to leave for Grand Canyon got closer, the pain in my chest got worse.  Around Thanksgiving I realized I was having a slow-burning panic attack about riding the mule 4,800 feet down into the canyon by myself while Eric hoofed it himself.  First I talked to my hairdresser; she suggested Vitamin B’s to calm my nerves.  Then I talked to my college roommate; she suggested Ativan to calm my nerves.  Then I talked to my neighbor who actually gave me Ativan.  In the end, I took my doggie’s masseuse’s advice and booked a trail ride at Rock Creek Horse Center to get the feel of riding on uneven terrain.  The ride was nice but I wasn’t convinced afterwards that I had in anyway simulated a canyon mule ride and gotten over my fear.  Subsequently, my chest still ached.

On December 12^th, Eric and I boarded the plane, flew to Las Vegas, rented a car and drove past the Hoover Dam toward our final destination 4 hours away.  Eric booked us a cute little cabin; we ate at the bar and talked with a mountain hiker/biker from Flagstaff for the better part of the evening.  All was good until the next morning.  

After a quick breakfast, I showed up at the ring and mounted Mabel, the fourth Mule in line.  Then our guide gave us the low down:  

“The Mule ride is 5 hours.  You will have the opportunity to stretch your legs and eat after an hour and a half when we take a break.  No matter what, don’t let space come between you and the Mule in front of you or your Mule will run to catch up.  Use the Mule Motivator (also called a whip) on your Mule’s behind and not on your Mule's saddle.  Don’t ever lean or your Mule will lean the other way and mostly likely toward the thing you are trying to lean away from (read: the canyon ledge). Finally: the Mule ride is not for everyone.  After we have ridden for about 10 minutes, we’ll stop and see how everyone is doing.”  

Right then and there I knew I had an out, but nevertheless I made a deal with myself to give it the old Girls Scout try despite never having been a Girl Scout.

So far so good.  The saddle fit and my vintage 1991 ACL repair didn’t scream at me.  I’ve been taking English riding lessons for the better part of three years so I tested my still-beginner knowledge on Mabel the Mule and discovered Mabel knows balance equitation too despite my only being allowed to use one hand on the reigns at all times.  Then we lined up, walked out of the ring, and turned onto Bright Angel Trail to begin our descent.  The first 50 feet was just like the trail ride at Rock Creek Horse Center but after the switch back, I lost what little nerve I had.

“Don’t hold your breath.  Exhale.”  I told myself as we rounded the first curve.  On the straightaway, Mabel took the outermost edge of the trail in order to see where she was going.  More self talk:

“Exhale.  Don’t lean."  I paniced some more because I can’t stear with one hand. "Don’t stear!!" I tell myself. "Mabel knows where she’s going.” 

Soon I realized I wasn’t breathing I was only exhaling.  So I took a breath, then another shallow breath.  It wasn’t long before I was hyperventilating.  I kept my eyes up. I faced the wall.  I pulled Mabel off the weeds; she ran on the icy trail and caught up with Mule Three. We stopped. I looked down, saw Eric, burst into tears then put my head in my hands while Mabel enjoyed the view.

I watched Eric slowly ascend the trail.  The trail guides were beside me now wondering what I was going to do.  Not once did they try to talk me into continuing the ride down the Canyon.  Imagine I Love Lucy on the Mule only it’s not funny.  Rider Number 5 gave me an out when she said, “Mabel was riding rather close to the edge; I was afraid my Mule would follow her.”  I mouthed thank you and promptly dismounted.

Eric and I never made it to the Canyon Floor.  In December if you don’t get an early start on the trail, you lose light.  Instead Eric let me collect myself over an early lunch and big bag of salty potato chips before hiking the Kaibab Trail on South Rim. 

Honestly, I am so glad I didn’t ride the Mule.  The disappointment of letting my fear run rough shod over me was eventually replaced with a sense of pride.  That day, December 13^th, was probably my steepest hike to date as we traveled South Kaibab Trail about 2 miles, 1200 feet down into the canyon and enjoyed a simple turkey sub on O’Neill Butte.

The next day we hiked another 1.5 miles, 1200 feet along Hermit Trail down to Waldron Trail Junction and enjoyed a vista still verdant and full of birds feasting in the brush.  It was here, along the Waldron Trail, that I discovered proof that one time, a long geologic time ago, water flooded the canyon when I picked up a piece a sandstone revealing a near whole, fossilized mollusk.      

I am a Mule Fail and proud of it.  And even if I can’t hike to the canyon floor and back in one day like our bar fly can, I have discovered there is still more miles and elevation in me.  I don’t know if I will ever get back to the Grand Canyon because there are so many wonderful places to see.  But I do know that maybe this year, 2015, will be the year I tackle Old Rag in the Shenandoah Mountains.  But before I do, I will have to get this video clip out of my head or my heart will pound me into submission again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBeCB831mug

BTW, cell phone pictures don't do the Grand Canyon justice, but if you ever find yourself on the Hermit Trail, look to the Rock Face for courage.

Cricket Crawl DC Baltimore 2014

August 22nd, 2014, I participated in my first-ever citizen science project.  Cricket Crawl DC Baltimore 2014 is a project started by ANS* insect teacher Cathy Stragar for the Natural History Society of Maryland.  What follows recaps my adventures including the scope of the project which was simply this:

Pick a place to listen to crickets and katydids singing after 9 at night and in one minute record what you hear on the official Cricket Crawl data sheet. Submit your findings via email, twitter or instagram.  The study tracks 8 species whose calls are uploaded to SoundCloud and available for listening on the Cricket Crawl DC Baltimore 2014 Facebook page and website.  

Cricket Crawl was fun, and despite not following the instructions completely, I'm happy to report that I heard more than I thought I would. I don’t tweet and I don’t twitter so when I re-read the instructions the next day, I discovered too late that I needed to email my results immediately. I felt badly.  I emailed my teacher hoping for the best... the best being that my data was included in the study.  Like the insects I was listening to, all I wanted was to be counted.

I've stared long and hard at bugs before, whether I knew what I was looking at or not, because I find bugs interesting.  (Who doesn't when you consider that insects comprise 75% of the animal kingdom?)  Since taking Insect Life at ANS this summer, I've learned a little more about identifying insects, sorting them by class and have started paying closer attention to who's playing "summer's symphony" day and night.

When all the insects sing, it's difficult to distinguish individual calls and name each one properly. Oh the noise, noise, noise. But when I stepped out my front door to begin cricket crawling, I singled out the Lesser Anglewing immediately.  Amid the cacophony, this crisp sound came from across the street. In fact, it probably came from my neighbor’s towering oak trees. But my target study area was Ayrlawn Park at the end of the street; it was time for me to move on. 

When I reached the top of the park, I put down my paraphernalia which included two field guides, a clip board, flashlight, smart phone and a fancy-schmancy messenger bag to carry all this stuff and set up my chair.  I pulled out my smart phone, opened Facebook and began to listen for crickets.  But all I could hear was the “damn” sleigh bell ring of the tree crickets – sleigh bells drowned out all the other singers and they aren't on the Cricket Crawl SoundCloud survey.  So I grabbed my chair, packed my stuff and headed further into the open field where I set-up a new camp. That's when I really began to tune my ear and record my findings.

The first note I heard came from the Japanese Burrowing Cricket.  The second call was a Common True Katydid. As I trekked further into the 9-acre woods that flank Ayrlawn Park I heard the rest of the band play including a Jumping Bush Cricket and Fork-tailed Katydid.

However, I did not hear the common Field Cricket's classic chirp, nor the Greater Anglewing which sounds like a geiger counter, and neither did the Oblong-winged Katydid sing for me.  Its call is too high and out of my hearing range.  Like Goldilocks, I need everything "just right."

Since that night I have heard the Greater Anglewing sing in my neighbor's tree.  And last Saturday this Fork-tailed Katydid pictured below spent the evening with me.  I hoped it would tell me the story of how it lost a leg but instead it remained silent on the subject.

The good news is this: the crickets will continue to sing as long it's a dry night and the temperature doesn't drop below 60F.  If you want to tune your ear now for Cricket Crawl 2015 you can! Just follow this link to hear the species sing:  https://soundcloud.com/cricketcrawl2013

*ANS is short for Audubon Naturalist Society located at Woodend in Chevy Chase, MD.