"What's the buzz, tell me what's a-happenin'
What's the buzz, tell me what's a-happenin'
What's the buzz?"
Jesus Christ, Superstar
The joys of August. The hum of summer tree frogs. The peepers who chirp us to sleep. Honey bees who visit the potted plants on our porch, and Lindy Loo's manic snapping jaws, trying to put a crushing end to the striped guests.
The giant, hairy, stupid flies who dart in the open back door as a dog is going in or out, and cause a tsunami wave of whippets crashing over lamps, end tables, vases and chairs to catch and kill the seemingly blind devils, which bump drunkenly into walls and ceilings, careening from room to room.
The lustful night bird who serenades his wife from 3:30 to 4:30 AM. I was mightily annoyed with him during my first summer here. In fact, dear readers, I'm embarrassed to admit to opening my window and yelling at the top of my croaky, sleep deprived lungs at him to, "For the love of Everything Holy Shut the F*** UP!!!" Yes, I am ashamed of that bad behavior now that I mostly sleep through his song, only smiling to myself as I turn over, remove Very Old Dog's foot from my nether parts, fix my pillow, and drift back to sleep to the strains of his lovely, loud lullaby.
August in this southern city brings a symphony of sounds. The First Chair belongs to the Cicadas. The locusts. Click HERE to hear a mating call. HERE it is in MP3. (Both recordings from The University of Michigan Museum of Zoology
Insect Division )
As we walk, we find their discarded shells like autumn leaves on the sidewalks. And there is no greater delight for the whippets than finding a whole bug. No, I misspoke. Finding a whole dead Cicada is cause for instant pouncing, crunching, and swallowing. And they they do crunch. Louder than Fritos, or Rice Crispies or pork rinds. Empty-mouthed whippets eye the lucky muncher with envy.
But. Let a hapless live locust be innocently sunning on the sidewalk, and suddenly I am not walking sweet civilized whippets. I am leashed to Whippets of Mass Destruction. One whippet snatches up the bug, which immediately sounds his alarm call. Well that just sets the whole crew in a fit! The locustless whippets swarm the mouth of the lucky hunter, who spins away trying not to lose the prey, which is buzzing louder and louder trying to scare the mouth which holds it into opening.
No such luck. BUZZ! Swarm. Swoop. Dodge. BUZZ! Spin. Pounce. Duck. BUZZ!!
Wag, wag, wag, gloat! (the victor)
Hunt. (the whippets)
Life is good.
Hug your hounds
What would you have done?
3 hours ago