In a small windowless room on a sweltering summer’s day, I find myself face-to-face with an entomological rock star. I’m at the University of Lincoln in eastern England, inside an insectary, a room lined with tanks and jars containing plastic plants and dozing insects. Before I know it, I’m being introduced to a vibrant-green katydid from Colombia.
“Meet Copiphora gorgonensis,” says Fernando Montealegre-Z, discoverer of this six-legged celebrity. The name’s familiar: It’s been splashed across the world alongside photos of the insect’s golden face and miniature unicorn’s horn. The renown of this katydid rests not on its looks, though, but on its hearing. Montealegre-Z’s meticulous studies of the magnificent insect revealed that it has ears uncannily like ours, with entomological versions of eardrums, ossicles and cochleas to help it pick up and analyze sounds.
Katydids — there are thousands of species — have the smallest ears of any animal, one on each front leg just below the “knee.” But their small size and seemingly strange location belie the sophisticated structure and impressive capabilities of these organs: to detect the ultrasonic clicks of hunting bats, pick out the signature songs of prospective mates, and home in on dinner. One Australian katydid has capitalized on its auditory prowess to capture prey in a very devious way: It lures male cicadas within striking distance by mimicking the female part of the cicada mating duet — a trick requiring it to recognize complex patterns of sound and precisely when to chip in.
Awesome? Absolutely. Unexpected? That, too. I’d never given much thought to insect ears until now. Insect eyes and antennae stand out, but ears? Even the eagle-eyed could be forgiven for wondering if insects have them. Yet obviously, some must hear: The summer air is filled with the trills, chirps and clicks of lovelorn crickets and grasshoppers, cicadas and katydids, all trying to attract a mate.
