I had a brief hole in what have become almost non-stop busy days and nights, and I quickly took advantage of the happy situation to head for the Henne Preserve, one of the closest ones to me. Hiking in the middle of the summer in the woods is often not pleasant, what with Deer Flies annoying the living daylights out of every trekker as the dipterans attempt to satisfy their need for a blood meal. But I needed to get out on a trail to remain sane... well, semi-sane... so I doused myself with DEET, which is better than nothing, steeled my slapping reflexes, and walked towards the beaver meadow, the natural history jewel in the Henne crown. The Turk's-cap Lilies were still in their glory, and the Sweet Pepperbush flowers were just ready to perfume the marsh, but the star of the show was something I almost missed in the greenery. The first of the Bush Katydids are nearing adulthood and getting ready to start singing. This one appears to be an egg laden female, so courtship may have already taken place under the aural radar. Soon enough, the Katydid chorus will be one of the surround-sound signatures of every midsummer evening.