Cicadas of Doom

I've been reading in the press that there is a bit of a distress and fear regarding the upcoming Cicada emergence in yankeeland. It seems that there is great concern that the emerging brood (love that word) could potentially cause harm to yankee youth, pets, and sensitive flora.

The Cicada of course is an ungainly winged insect that lives primarily underground. Cicada broods emerge into the sunlight for a short time on regular 13 or 17 year cycles depending on which brood you are talking about.

The primary fear appears to be that emerging Cicadas will fling themselves onto unsuspecting northern youngsters causing the child to spasmodically flee into brick walls or throw themselves over the handlebars of their bicycles onto the asphalt. Given these circumstances a Cicada could conceivably cause a severe concussion or even a broken collarbone.

I must admit that I have not personally witnessed the particular variety of Cicada that inhabit the northern lands and am perhaps prejudiced by my experiences with the colonies native to the South. I have to assume that either our broods are particularly docile or they just grow 'em meaner up there.

My personal experience with the Cicada goes back to my childhood. They were, and are, called "locusts" or "June Bugs" here despite the protestations of more scholarly types. I recall being "hit" by out of control Cicadas on many occasions, particularly when we used to play out under the street light. On many a night a wild southern Cicada would come barreling in toward the light at a crazy angle, richochet off the street, and slam into one of us with a skittery buzzing sound. We're lucky we weren't all killed.

In most instances the Cicada seemingly had more to fear from us than we did from them. A favorite summer pastime was capturing some poor confused Cicada and tying a string around it. The poor insect would struggle into the air and generate intense amusement as it flew hither and yon tugging on its leash. Much more entertaining than flying a kite. Usually the poor bug would eventually escape from our badly tied knots and rejoin its brethren in the trees.

The media seems to indicate that there is also some concern up there about the Cicada noise levels. The Cicada join together in the trees in the millions and emit a rhythmic keening (love that word) drone. A veritable Mormon Tabernacle Choir of buggery. The noise itself is not harmful and the only ill effects are a mild irritation after several hours of exposure. A brief respite can be had with a sharp shout or clap of the hands which will startle the poor creatures into a momentary, but delicious, silence.

The most appealing aspect of the Cicada lifecycle, at least to children, is their molting process. The Cicada all find a nice barky tree to lock their toesies onto and then jump out of their skin. The discarded skin then hardens into a crispy translucent brown husk on the side of the tree. Southern children tend to think of these remnants as a fascinating gift toy from the "June Bugs". In my elementary school days I, and my friends, would make a great game of attempting to collect more of these husks than our compatriots. This was, after all, before the Nintendo GameBoy was invented.

I've thought about tying a string around a Cicada in recent years when they appeared, but have thought better of it. A creature that spends 17 years underground anticipating just a few weeks in the sun before dying deserves to live those weeks without a leash I think. And as far as their irritating noise levels....well, perhaps they have a right to sing loudly in the trees about the sunshine that we see as as "just another day".

And you northerners, be careful out there.