An ant might not buzz or chirp, but sometimes their footsteps can be heard.
If I were to step outside during an early evening of a waning summer, I would be surrounded by sound. The source is largely derived from small beings. I might not hear a single bird or frog, but I will likely hear the buzz, chirp, trill, and hum of scores of insects that form a hidden symphony.
The unrelenting trill of cicadas and maraca-esque rattle of katydids sound to the tempo of crickets chirping. The low hum of a bee ambling through fades while the bright buzz of a mosquito grows nearer. These sounds are the sounds of summer to many. Concentrating on them and contemplating their sources might prove to be unnerving to some, but the acts are enriching to me.
One day, in a very quiet room, I heard a pitter patter. It was the footfall of an ant walking across a hardwood floor. Elated that I could hear an ant walking, I stopped what I was doing and watched the ant while appreciating the auditory impact the insect had on my mammalian ears. The moment was precious.
Insects are relatively unassuming. To know how loud they can be, from grating trills to soft footfall, is to know that insects are not only the source of sound but also the source of incredible impact.