Part 30

“Since no one can suit you,” said my brother, “you had better find out for yourself.”

Then I took a leaf and laid on it some grass blades with the foam balls on them. And I gently opened the balls with a grass stem.

Oh here was a queer sight! Here was a little, live, pale, green thing. It had two tiny, black eyes, two little feelers, a body shaped like a three-cornered wedge.

“See, see!” I cried. “These balls are cradles! The grasshopper has made these beds for her babies. Here is a wee grasshopper in each one.”

But it is very easy to be mistaken. I was wrong, too. For these little things were not grasshoppers, and they had made their foam balls for themselves.

Looking closer, we saw that the little green thing held fast by its head to the grass stem.

Then we saw that the foam ball being made of bubbles, changed and broke. You know bubbles do not last long. These tiny bubbles slowly broke, and a clear drop of water ran to the bottom of the ball.

When the drop grew large, it fell off. Then another formed in its place.

We did not need to think long to be sure that the little hopper sucked sap, or juice, from the grass. This sap not only fed it, but ran through its body, and made its foam cloak, or bed. This kept it safe and warm.

When we learned more of these things, we found that these were not grasshoppers. They belong to another order of insects. I tell you about them now, lest you make the mistake that I did.

These insects are hoppers. Frog-hoppers some call them. Their hind legs are very strong. They make great leaps for their size.

There are a number of odd insects in this order. They are very unlike each other, except in the wings. It is called the order of the same-wings, because the upper and under wings are alike. Only the upper ones are longer.

In this order you will find some of the fireflies. You know them. They fly about over the grass on summer nights. They make pretty little fireworks for you, before you go to bed.

The little aphis, which spoils the roses, is of this order. You know the ants keep the aphis for their cow, and eat the sweet juice it makes.

We will look at only two of this family. We want to know a little about this wee frog-hopper. And we will learn a little about his biggest cousin, the cicada, or “the singer.”

The hoppers have, also, a queer little cousin, the scale bug. The hopper draws out the plant sap, and covers its body with water. The scale bug turns the same sap into white dust. It covers its funny little body all over with flour!

Frog-hoppers are small insects. They have long feelers. They have only two joints in their feet. The frog-hopper has a big eye on each side of its head. It has, also, three simple eyes set on the top of its head, like this ⛬

All the hoppers live on plant juice. The little ones are very greedy. The mother lays her tiny eggs in the plant. When the larvæ come out they fasten their mouths on the skin of the plant, and begin to suck sap.

This bite of the hopper often makes ugly brown holes, or ridges, come on plants. Often the plants become sickly, and die, from loss of sap. The hoppers are not good friends of the plants, as the bees, ants, wasps, and birds are.

The largest of the same-wing order is the cicada. Did you ever hear him sing? Mrs. Cicada is quiet. Her mate sings all day. The hotter it is, and the drier, the more he sings. In all lands he is named from his noise, “the singer,” “the screamer,” “the squealer.”

The cicada is a dry, horny insect. He will keep well in a cabinet. He lives in trees. Mrs. Cicada has no music, but she has a sharp knife. How does she use that?

We might as well call her knife an awl, or a gimlet, for it is like all three. It is used to cut, or bore, a hole in the tree. Into the hole she puts her eggs.

This tool which Mrs. Cicada carries has three blades. The outer ones are rough on the edges. They can cut into very hard wood. Mrs. Cicada takes hold of the tree bark with her front feet. Then she cuts away with her knife, until she has made a neat little furrow.

She chooses a dead branch for this. The sap in a live branch would harm her eggs.

When the larvæ come out of the eggs, they at once leave the hole, and drop to the ground. There they dig a little house for a home. Their fore feet are well made for digging.

Underground they feed on roots. They change from larvæ to pupæ. Next summer they come up, full-grown. Then Mr. Cicada begins his song. Mrs. Cicada at once goes to work to cut holes for her eggs.

When, in mid-summer, the shrill song of the cicada is heard, people say: “Ah, now it will be hot and dry!” The poets have always loved the cicada, and made many pretty songs and stories about him.

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