Day 356: Years ago when I used to hike extensively off-trail, one route I consistently took to get from Here to There was so heavily populated by grasshoppers that I dubbed it the "Grasshopper Track." I would pass along it, shuffling my feet to keep from stepping on any of the hundreds of hoppers who fled in all directions (not always away from danger), and the sound of their leapings and landings is one I will forever associate with September camps in my beloved high country. The species were assorted; some small, some large, and occasionally, an enormous specimen with a distinctly different body morphology, fatter than the rest. More concerned with other things, I never bothered to try to identify them, but during my latest MeadoWatch hike, I found another "Grasshopper Track" quite accidentally. Although this guy wasn't the largest representative of his species that I've seen, I can now put a name to him: Prumnacris rainierensis, Cascade Timberline Grasshopper.
In person, the coppery colour of the exoskeleton is much more pronounced. The body is quite short in comparison to other grasshoppers and also heavier, giving the impression of "stubby and stout." The antennae are shorter as well, and the chin bears a pair of spurs, giving rise to the common name for the family of "spur-throated grasshoppers." I saw less than half a dozen of this species, but this new "Grasshopper Track" was abundantly populated with others; green, gold, brown, some tiny, some of normal size, and all clicking and popping from dried leaves to withered sedge blades with a sound which carried my thoughts to a place most dear to my heart and blithe September days alone amid its beauties.
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