Japan's 72 Microseasons - #51

"Crickets Chirp At The Door"

October 19 - 23
蟋蟀在戸
きりぎりす とに あり
Kirigirisu to ni ari
”Crickets chirp at the door”

Shelter is far from a uniquely human concept—most everything that lives wants for a safe place to do so. Perhaps the warm light coming from a home at dusk on a chilly autumn evening beckons to crickets as strongly as it does to us. Or maybe they just want someone to listen to their song. Would you let them in? Or at least sit outside with them a spell?

(As a quick content warning: this post will contain photos and images of insects—I find them cute, but such is not the same for everyone)

(there’s not one in this photo though, so don’t worry)

Before we do any further dramatic scene-setting, we need to establish what insect we’re actually talking about. The kanji character for the kō use 蟋蟀 (kōrogi), which is most commonly defined as “cricket,” but historically it’s been a more general name for any insect that sings in autumn. It makes sense if you think about it, given that chirping insects are much more often heard than seen—crickets and their like will also usually stop singing when spotted.

The way the name of this kō is read, though, doesn’t use “kōrogi,” but rather kirigirisu. Of a similar species, kirigirisu belong to a different biological family to true crickets¹—in English, we sometimes call them katydids or “bush crickets.”

(left: kōrogi; right: kirigirisu)

But if we follow the rule of “any bug that sings in autumn is a kōrogi,” then kirigirisu are also included under the korogi umbrella and all is well accounted for. In fact, kirigirisu are what chirping crickets and their kin were historically all called: it’s an onomatopoeia for the sound they make.² When it comes to marking the seasons, it’s less who’s singing and more the song. And autumn evenings are full of chirping choruses coming from bushes, trees, and yes, sometimes your front door.

It’s not the only place where we’re sharing space with cricketkind. An old saying brought over from China tracks the year via the activities of these winged, chirping insects:

五月動股
六月振羽
七月在野
八月在宇
九月在戸
十月入我

Loosely translated: “In May, they move their legs; in June, they grow their wings; in July, they’re in the fields; in August, they’re in the eaves; in September, they’re at the door; in October, in the house.” This chronicles their gradual movement into human homes as the year progresses, which can be read as quite threatening if you’re not the sort to welcome creepy crawly company. Still, I think that there are very few people who don’t appreciate their songs.

(Kiyokata Kaburagi, 1910)

Crickets, as well as their various cousins, are also eaten in some parts of Japan, particular the mountainous regions of the country, where any available food sources were more readily embraced. The most common variety is cooked in a sweet soy sauce glaze (a preparation called tsukudani)—it makes for a fun souvenir for friends back in Tokyo. Cricket flour is also garnering more and more attention as a great source of protein without having the pop what is visibly an insect into your mouth. Japan’s Popular lifestyle brand MUJI recently debuted senbei crackers that are made from it.

(tsukudani grasshoppers at the supermarket, and snacks made with cricket flour)

If the above isn’t to your taste (although I can vouch that it’s better than you might imagine³) here’s some more palatable seasonal items to enjoy during this time in Japan:

● Seasonal fruit
kaki, 柿, persimmon

● Seasonal seafood
saba, 鯖, mackerel

● Seasonal non-edible bird⁴
manazuru, 真鶴, white-naped crane

(kaki hung to dry, saba cooked in soy sauce, a manazuru in flight)

It may just be me, but I’ve always felt that autumn is the season of sunset. Each season seems to correspond most strongly to a particular time of day, and they pass in much the same way 24 hours might. Spring is sunrise, summer noon, autumn sunset, and winter the night. So it seems appropriate that in this kō the time of year and time of day are so strongly tied together by the crickets’ (or katydids’) songs.

A seasonal word describing autumn in Japan is aki-urara (秋麗, lit. “autumn brightness”), which reflects the clear, crisp days that mark this period before the days shorten, almost as if nature is giving us the finest picture She can to remember the year by. In much the same way that one reflects on the day’s happenings during a sunset, I think that autumn is a lovely time to reflect on the year’s happenings. Some things are best appreciated if you can notice them just before they end and hold it in your mind for a little while. Like the chirping of crickets, a song never to be heard the same way twice.

See you next kō~

---

[Images & info by kurashikata.com, kurashi-no-hotorisya.jp, 543life.com, and Wikipedia except where otherwise noted]

1. Along with grasshoppers and locusts, they’re all members of the biological order Orthoptera

2. In an interesting coincidence, the same is true for the English name: said to come from kay-tee-did

3. Most people who try them say they taste like shrimp

4. It’s illegal