As I sit outside this evening, the sun is just slipping behind the wooded hills of Kozara National Park. The sky turns that perfect dusky pink, the kind that makes me reach for my camera, though it never seems to capture the colours quite right. I must work on that.

But tonight isn’t about the view. It’s about the sound.

Not the familiar birdsong, the bark of a village dog, or even the faint whir of a distant tractor.

No, this evening’s soundtrack is coming from underground.

Meet the Mole Cricket

Around this time of year, late July, something remarkable happens just below the surface of the soft, river-fed soil we have all around us.A gentle, rolling trill begins to rise from the earth. At first, it sounds faint, almost electronic. Then, as the minutes pass, others join in, and the entire area begins to hum.

These mysterious little performers?

Mole crickets.

Now, I’ll be honest, I hadn’t paid much attention to them until about three years ago. They’re not flashy. You won’t catch them hopping across the path or fluttering through the trees. No, they live in the quiet, deep in the soil, digging with their strong, spade-like forearms and keeping mostly to themselves.

We accidentally dug one up during some garden work once, and I was genuinely startled. They’re not the most handsome of creatures, in fact, I’d say they’re a bit grotesque,but they’ve earned their place in my summer evenings.

Nature’s Hidden Symphony

There’s a particular kind of magic to their chorus.

It starts with just one cricket calling out from its burrow. Then another replies. And another. Before long, the valley becomes filled with this strange, pulsing music, nature’s own ambient soundtrack.

It’s not easy to miss, even if you’re busy scrolling or wrapped up in the noise of the day. But if you sit still and let yourself listen, it’s like discovering a secret concert performed just for you.

That’s one of the many things I’ve come to love about life here. The quiet things are the main event. You begin to mark the seasons not just by the dates on the calendar, but by the sounds around you.

In spring, it’s the frogs.

In June, it’s the nightingales.

And in the height of summer, like right now, it’s the shy, subterranean song of the mole crickets.

The Rhythm of My Bosnia

What I’m sharing here isn’t a tourist destination or a hidden gem to pin on Google Maps. It’s just a moment. A rhythm. A reminder that some of the most beautiful parts of life are the ones that hum gently in the background, waiting for you to notice.

So wherever you are, walking, working out, winding down,I hope you’ll pause and listen to your own dusk chorus. I’d love to know what it sounds like where you live.

Let’s Stay Connected

If you enjoyed this little postcard from my Bosnian summer, I’d love to hear from you. You can drop me a message.

🎧 And if you’d like to experience it yourself, I’ve included a short soundscape, just under half an hour , of the dusk chorus recorded right here in Čardačani.

Thank You

Thank you for listening to these little slices of my life. If you’d like to get more stories, you can subscribe to my Substack, it’s free, and if you ever want to upgrade to paid but can’t afford it, just email me. I’ll sort it out, no questions asked.

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