A Fireworks Nighthawk
+ The Katydid Formula
Vol. 160, July 8th, 2025 Published a day early online
Audio Version of the Post
Standing Room Only
“They’re more beautifuler if you stand up” she said, so I did.
“You’re right.”
My folks watched the fireworks downtown from a weedy corner of the parking lot, front row to the river. I turned around to the family behind us. “Best seats in the house, right?”
The kids hadn’t heard that phrase. But they knew how to watch the show, suggesting I stand. “You can sit down if you get tired. My favorite is the heart one. I hope they have a Barbie one.”
Kids in groups larger than one have a way of wiggling and all talking at once when they get excited, and the 4th of July is a good time to get excited.
It was hard to know who said what, but I agreed with all, towering three feet above them, standing, watching the fireworks. “Hey kids, notice how you see the light first, then hear the sound.” I thought it a good example of physics, but they tuned me out, watching what mattered.
Fireworks.
The sparks strove up from the riverboat, and BOOM, rejoiced in the skies, and the whole town went ooo and ahh. The reds and blues and bright burning whites lit the summer air, and reflected in the polished rails of the train tracks, running from the mines to the city, far, far away.
Fireworks.
Something to strive for.
Boom!
Fireworks light up the night over the James river in Lynchburg, reflecting off the tracks.
CSX’s James River Subdivision
Quote for the Day
“When in doubt tell the truth. It will confound your enemies and astound your friends.”
–Mark Twain
The Roswell Incident
The Daily Record prints the headline ‘RAAF Captures Flying Saucer On Ranch in Roswell Region”, July 8th, 1947.
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
Arn (iron): “I gotta get in there and arn those clothes.”
Symphony of the Week: Brahms 3
His “Free but Happy” opening, sublime slow movement, and dedication to form make this stunner a must-hear.
Write to Us!
The Nighthawk is a new old-fashioned way to connect, published weekly. You’re invited to write back, or just enjoy reading. Let’s have some fun! It’s a social paper! Send stories, etc to: PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588 or Joshurban@protonmail.com
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #240)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: Music All Day
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! I like to spin records as a real DJ, and pretend this column is a radio program. Thanks for two years “on the air”. Speaking of music: June 30th. Did you hear them? The overnight symphony? They’re early this year. The katydids, green as a leaf, nestled in the treetops, are playing the sound of summer through the humid darkness.
The swamp cicadas have been singing for a few weeks now, the drive-time disc jockeys of the morning. “It’s gonna be a scorcher, folks” they seem to say, rattling up another song. Now the katydids are back for the evening shift. Hearing them is a cherished tradition, like the peepers in the spring, or the first maple lighting autumn ablaze.
Music makes my world go ‘round. Doesn’t it for yours? Got a favorite concert memory? My first was BB King. He hit a note that seemed to sail through the hall, and bounce off the back wall, like a sonic home run. I’ve seen Pinchas Zukerman coax a Bach concerto from his Stradivarius, Jeff Beck weave a spell with his Stratocaster, and Van Halen blow up an auditorium. From little jazz clubs to formal opera houses, I’ve listened in stunned silence to masters and wizards. But of all the songs I’ve heard and played, nothing comes close to Mother Nature.
Like famous records, there are Earth’s hits: “Wind in the Pines” is one of her an excellent early works. “Cracking of the Winter Ice” is considered a bit experimental, but popular in the Nordic countries, and “The Lonesome Whippoorwill” is most famously re-imagined by Hank Williams. Beethoven took a cue from “Summer Thunder”, and the infringement lawsuit brought by the Howler Monkeys against certain heavy metal bands is still ongoing.
My favorite sounds of summer are the little critters in the trees. By day, the cicadas–true bugs–rattle, rasp, and clatter out noises that would make Charlie Parker and the other 40’s jazz guys green with envy. They sound hot. By night, the Katydids take over. They’re members of the cricket family, and you might see one around the porch light, looking like a walking leaf. They chant in unison in the forest. This call is dependent on actual temperature. The higher the mercury, the faster they sing.
Back in 1897, a fellow named Dolbear figured out a precise formula for the true katydid:
T = 60 + [(N - 19) / 3]
It looks a lot like math, but hang tight. To find the temperature (T), do this: Count the number of chirps in a minute (N), subtract 19, and divide that number by 3. Then, add 60. I tried it once. It worked!
(The formula for other crickets is: Temperature= Chirps in 15 seconds + 40.)
Still, stopwatch or no, the best thing to do is listen. On those hot nights, the katydids get cookin’. Roll over Beethoven, the symphony is in town. Keep an ear out for our summer orchestra. The only cover charge is paying attention.
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh
