1375. . 175 



NOTES ON THE HABITS OF CICADA GIGAS. 



BY GERVASB F. MATHBW, RN., F.L.S., &c. 



After lying for a week off Panama, and nearly five milea from the 

 shore, we were not at all sorry on the afternoon of the 27th February, 

 1874, to raise our anchor, and, favoured by the afternoon breeze, drop 

 down under sail to the island of Tobago, where we arrived at six 

 o'clock and took up a position within a convenient distance of the 

 landing place. Soon afterwards, while standing on deck admiring the 

 beauties of the island with its immense profusion of tropical trees and 

 shrubs, and the varied hue of their foliage, I suddenly heard, clear and 

 shrill, through the evening air, a whistle, as distinct as that of a loco- 

 motive, and turned at once and looked in the direction from whence it 

 came, expecting to see a steamboat or the chimney of some factory on 

 shore, but nothing of the kind was visible. The whistling continued 

 more or less until sunset, when it gradually ceased. Upon enquiring 

 of one of the natives what this was caused by, he informed me it was 

 the cry of the " tree locust," and, being unacquainted with any locust 

 capable of producing such a noise, I determined to work out the 

 history of the creature during our stay off the island, and as we were 

 there for just a month, I had a pretty good opportunity of so doing. 

 In the first place, I of course soon found out that the whistling was 

 created, not by a " locust," but by a Cicada, although it was some 

 days before I was actually able to capture an individual, on account 

 of the individuals that were out when we first arrived at the 

 island frequenting the topmost boughs of the loftiest trees. More- 

 over, they were not at that time nearly so numerous as they afterwai'ds 

 became, for, before we left, on the 24th March, they were out in 

 great numbers, and had also, to a certain degree, altered their habits, 

 and were often to be seen flying near the ground, or sitting on trunks 

 of trees within easy reach, especially just before dusk or when the 

 weather was at all damp and gloomy. 



The first day I went on shore, although I heard them in the trees 

 above me, I could not see them, and it was only when they became 

 more plentiful that they seemed to move about much, and I was able 

 t« capture a few and note their habits. This creature, considering 

 its size, is gifted Avith a wonderfully powerful and peculiar voice — if 

 I may so term it. Let my reader suppose he is standing in some 

 secluded spot in a forest with lofty trees all round him. There is not 

 a breath of air stirring, and hardly a sound, save, perhaps, the hum of 

 a wandering bee, the whirr of a passing humming-bird, or the rustle 

 of a lizard amongst the dead leaves, to interrupt the oppressive stillness 



