"[76 [Jannarv, 



o£ a tropical afternoon. Suddenly, from right above, yon hear one or 

 two hoarse, monotonous erics something like the croak of a tree-frog, 

 and, looking upwards, wonder what it can be, but wait a moment, 

 this is merely a signal, for the next minute everywhere above and 

 around you these croaks are repeated in rapid and increasing succession 

 until they merge into a long shrill whistle almost exactly similar to 

 the whistle of a first-rate locomotive ; this continues for nearly half a 

 minute, and then abruptly terminates, and everything for a short time 

 becomes as still as before, but presently, similar cries will be heard in 

 the far distance, as if in reply to those which have just died away 

 overhead. This whistling pierces one's ears to such a degree that its 

 vibrations can be felt long after it has ceased. 



These Cicadas must be able to keep time with marvellous regularity, 

 for the noise they make, and it really cannot be called by any other 

 name, is evidently the combined efforts of a whole colony, although a 

 single insect is able to produce a very shrill cry. I kept a few in 

 confinement several days in the hope that I might be able to observe 

 them while in the act of whistling, but they remained silent in a most 

 obstinate manner, and could only be prevailed on to croak when they 

 were touched or otherwise annoyed. One day, however, while shooting 

 humming-birds, I heard a Cicada in full whistle on a neighbouring 

 cocoa-nut tree, and upon looking in the direction from whence the 

 cries proceeded, observed the creature on the trunk of the tree, about 

 fifteen feet from the ground. It was then silent, but in the course of 

 a few moments it began its short hoarse cries, and, while so doing, 

 remained perfectly motionless ; but, as soon as the whistling commenced, 

 it raised its abdomen, and, with a slightly tremulous movement, walked 

 steadily backwards until its song had ceased, when it halted : I 

 then fired at it with my little walking-stick giu\ and brought it down. 

 It was a fine specimen, and none the worse for two or three dust shot 

 through its thorax. 



These insects frequent by preference trees growing in ravines 

 where the soil is generally soft and damp, and in which their larvje 

 and pup.^c find no difiiculty in burrowing. When the latter are full 

 grown and ready for their last transformation, they emerge from the 

 ground and crawl about four or five feet up the trunk of a tree, when 

 they firmly fix themselves to the bark by means of their powerfully 

 hooked fore tibia). In a short time the pupa-case splits down the 

 middle of the back, and the perfect creature walks out. Trees pos- 

 sessing a rough bark are usually selected, and on some I noticed many 

 dozens of these empty cases. The flight of the mature Cicada is 



