mature motes: 
Ube Selborne Society’s flDagaslne. 
No. 20. AUGUST 15, 1891. Vol.IL 
NATURE NOTES FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
T is no doubt commonly believed that the sounds 
voluntarily produced by certain insects are a means of 
communication between those of the same species, but 
the following note goes far to show that the song of the 
Cicada, so celebrated in Grecian poetry, is heard also with high 
appreciation by insects other than those of its own genus. 
My correspondent in Natal mentions that he has frequently 
observed that when the Cicada is singing at its loudest in the 
hottest portion of the day, it is attended by a number of other 
insects with lovely, gauze-like iridescent wings, whose de- 
meanour left no doubt on his mind that the music was the 
attraction. The Cicada, when singing, usually stations itself 
upon the trunk of a tree with its head uppermost, and the insects 
in question, to the number sometimes of fifteen or sixteen, form 
themselves into a rough semi-circle at a short distance around 
its head. During the performance one of the insects was 
observed occasionally to approach the Cicada and to touch it 
upon its front leg or antennae, which proceeding was resented by 
a vigorous stroke of the foot by the Cicada, without, however, any 
cessation of its song. The insects composing the audience were 
found to be extremely active, and so wary that they took flight 
at the least alarm on the too near approach of any intruder, so 
that though many attempts were made to capture a specimen 
in a butterfly net, they always contrived to escape until a friend 
residing at Bourne succeeded in circumventing them by stra- 
tegy. Observing an assemblage round a singing Cicada, he 
very carefully noted their exact position, and making a long cir- 
cuit approached the tree from behind, then without peeping 
round the trunk, or otherwise betraying his presence, he 
suddenly clapped his hand upon the spot, and in this way 
managed to detain five of the audience. These interesting 
specimens were forwarded to me by the last mail from the Cape, 
