Rural Night

By Bill Spencer

Before air-conditioning, rural residents on the plains of Texas opened windows to get relief from the relentless summer heat.  Prosperous citizens had fans to take the edge off of hot, low-tech homes.  However, everyone eventually grew acclimatized to the heat, for the most part, and simply went on about their business as usual.                

A daytime temperature of 100 degrees is hard to shake even as the sun goes below the tree line of Mesquites to the west.  At 10:00 pm the ambient temperature could still be in the 90s.  The high pressure ridge that sets over north central Texas in summer can chase away rain for months and bake the vegetation.  However, nighttime offers a brief respite from the scorching sun as well as an interesting look into another dimension.

The open windows at night offers up a whole different realm that can be detected with heightened senses.  Yes, there is a new world of activity going on beyond the rusty, dusty screen protecting the open window. For adults the night sounds might be relaxing enough to produce instant unconsciousness; but for children night noises might leave a youngster wide-eyed and all ears, even to the innocuous sounds of nature.  Without really trying, an insomniac can perceptualize with keen awareness the mysterious nocturnal noises echoing from the environment outside. We can take a look at one of those balmy summer nights that we knew so well before Freon took away the memory of a “quiet” summer night.

The door to the bed room is ajar, and the routine of bedtime is following its usual procedure.  One by one the lights in the rest of the house go off and the padding footfalls on the hardwood floor cease.  The last watery rumble of the toilet clanks a few pipes on its way downward to the sewer.  The house is dark and quiet, and one’s pupils almost instantly dilate to reveal the distinct shapes of the gray world both inside and out.

The air in the room is stale and hot; consequently, one only needs a sheet for cover.  The thin white sheet is used primarily for modesty because the morning temperature will never get below the mid-seventies.

Flimsy curtains dance with the breeze, actually just a puff of air, as it heads into the bed room offering only the temptation of cooling.  A window is situated to the left of the bed, and the lower half of a big elm tree is visible outside.  The curtains do little to hide the panorama beyond the big tree.  Visibility is excellent tonight because of a full moon. The house next door is completely dark, except for a tiny glow in the kitchen window.  A few out buildings and fences give the nightscape a strange depth of vision a few hundred feet beyond the softly swaying elm branches.

During the day, one can see that the leaves of the big elm have been chewed by insects, giving the tree a worn-out, bedraggled appearance, but at night the swaying limbs and leaves move like ballerinas in the wind.  Branches move ever so lightly until an arbitrary gust really makes the foliage talk.  Their language is a whispery sound that speaks for a few seconds and then muffles down to a barely audible whir.  Then the sound picks up again, rising in pitch, but then lowers to nothing.  Nature is inhaling and exhaling tonight. Over and over and over this process occurs.  The curtain moves inward, then suddenly the fabric makes a mild slap as it is pulled back against the window frame. 

Now come the cicadas, called “locusts” by the locals, and they are tuning up for their nightly serenade.  The volume of sound might fool one into thinking that thousands of locusts are resting in the old elm, but there is probably only a few dozen.  Male locusts click plates on their thorax like drums to produce their vibrating harmony.  This group of locust will sing for about 5 seconds and then fade out for 10 or 15 seconds, then repeat the process all night long. 

One would notice during the daytime the dozens of dime-size holes in the soil all around the old elm.  Locust supposedly develop underground for varying numbers of years depending on the species, then dig their way out to live for only a short time.  Area residents might think that there only purpose in nature is to sing their nightly lullaby.

Vibrating locusts produce the “white noise’ on the plains of Texas.  Often times single insects seem to call out to others with their chatter and a few more respond until the whole tree is in an uproar. The noise is so loud, steady, but unobtrusive, that people actually forget that it is there.  In fact it helps some people to relax and sleep more peacefully.  The old tree outside the window has plenty of white noise going on.

On the highway beyond the fences and out buildings one can hear a vehicle coming from the east even before the headlights are visible.  The car noise rapidly rises in pitch as it approaches, then suddenly drops to a low moan as it passes.  At night a trained ear can detect the speed of a vehicle by the pitch of the sound.  High pitch means fast.

Lights from the vehicle cast a bright image with the shape of the bedroom window on the south wall that glides diagonally across the closet door and ceiling before disappearing.  The passing motorist seems to startle the cicadas, because they remain mute for at least a minute.  Crickets in the yard are not so easily awed and they continue broadcasting.

Back to the north, the neighbor’s shepherd speaks up with a prompt “hoof, hoof, hoof, hooooof.”  He is only doing his job in announcing the passing of the car.  The casual tone of his bark lets area residents know that this report is only a non-threatening notice for the record.  If the Shepherd were to go into full alert, the masters of the house would somehow notice the change in vocal demeanor even in their most sound sleep.  The dog is actually telling the neighborhood that everything is copasetic.

The golden gray tinge of the night sky is from a full moon.  The moon-lit night is twice as bright as otherwise, and objects even appear to give off moon shadows.  The eerie quality of a pseudo-daylight sky makes the insomniac want to look out the window to see the yard in its new glory.  Every object in the yard that is not in the shadow of another object can be seen in remarkable detail.

Somewhere below the window, as indicated by one’s acute nighttime hearing, several persistent crickets are rubbing their wings to produce their usual high pitched rhythm.  The reedy hum of these critters is only audible when locusts are resting.  These wing-rubbers could be generating a love song or warning other males to stay away, depending on how they vibrate their appendages. The quietness when both crickets and locust abandon their vocalizations is almost unsettling.  This makes one long to hear the white noise again for comfort in this long summer’s night.

Another vehicle is coming down the unpaved side street west of the house.  This is a truck as indicated by the jangling chain on its tailgate and it is moving slowly.  The muffler emits a hollow, baffling sound that indicates it has a hole in it.  But the driver is trying to be considerate by easing the accelerator enough to deny the full canon sound of the faulty tailpipe.  Nonetheless, whiffs of exhaust mingled with dust, follow the prevailing wind through the window. 

As the metallic clank of the tailgate chain fades away with distance, the slight aroma of cigarette smoke lingers for just a few seconds.  The Camel smoking pickup driver was probably finishing his last smoke before reaching home to go to bed.  A fading reddish-orange glow on the bedroom window curtain signals the tail lights of the vehicle moving slowly out of range. 

The Shepherd is strangely quiet this time….not barking at all.  Perhaps the Shepherd knows this person or recognizes the vehicle and decides not to bother with his customary announcement.  Or maybe the lonely sound of a distant night song bird has distracted this faithful guard. Coming from the vicinity of the old dog’s yard, a faint avian melody is heard above the locust din.  It might be a mockingbird, but why is he carrying on with his veritable medley of different songs this late?  Perhaps he is a lonely male trying to attract a mate.

When the nearby sounds in the yard diminish, more distant sounds take their place.  Another dog is barking incessantly a couple of blocks away. If the wind is right, then road noise from the main highway 5 blocks away can be heard.  Big trucks make a racking noise as they decelerate to the legal speed limit along the main highway of the small town. Even farther away, a motorist, likely a teenager out to impress his peers, is winding his motor to maximum rpm.  From this distance, the hot rod only sounds like a pan of popcorn with kernels erupting……pop, pop, pop.  This Indianapolis racer want-a-be will not linger long because the local constable is also making rounds somewhere in the town.

After a while, human noises seem to completely disappear.  Sooner or later everyone goes in for the night. All that is left is the sound of critters, trees, and the wind.  The night exudes a quiet, loneliness, but not the kind of loneliness that breeds despair.  There is still a feeling of calm wonderment and exploration for the wakeful to appreciate in this darkly lit world.

By now the temperature in the room is almost tolerable.  In the darkness the sheet has been kicked to the bottom of the bed because it is not needed.  The curtains are almost flying at a forty-five degree angle from the window, indicating a nice, steady breeze.  The locusts continue to sing amid the swaying limbs of the big tree.

And as always, the same thing happens without any warning.  The conscience mind loses control and sleep throws its slumberous web.  Oblivious to the sights and sounds outside, the mind is paying attention to another world now.

 Contact Bill.Spencer@noconaisd.net for permission to reprint.