The Periodical Cicada - Part I: Beauty is Indeed in the Eyes of the Beholder
Every 17 years in my neck of the woods of the Mid-Atlantic Region, a natural event consumes the national conversation, the media, and the fear of a sizeable portion of the human population – especially in my neighborhood: the emergence and constant cadence of gazillions of red-eyed insects, the Periodical Cicada.
Some folks believe the apocalypse is happening right before their eyes; these same people seem to have forgotten they thought the same thing 17 years ago during the last emergence and surprisingly, the world didn’t end.
Just to clarify, the world is ending, but it’s because of human interference – things like pollution, habitat destruction, and oh yeah, global warming -- but not cicadas. And another biblical clarification, locusts are short-horned grasshoppers, not cicadas. The more you know.
For me, these insects are fascinating. For many of my neighbors, however, not so much. They regard cicadas a little more than irritating. Nothing would please them more than to hear the cadence of this natural repetitive opus in the key of E finally end, which it does in late June.
Why the needless distress by my worrisome neighbors? Allow me to count the ways.
First, between mid-May to late June, the male cicada’s constant and loud metallic hum (females only make a clicking sound) may reach noise levels up to 100 decibels, about the level at a rock concert or when standing next to a jack hammer.
The males produce their calls by vibrating drum-like organs called tymbals on their abdomen. Considering there may be millions singing at once, the sound can indeed become boisterous. Not that this noisy commotion drives my neighbors to madness, but it gets them close to it. And as daily temperatures rise, the more noise the cicadas make and the higher the decibel levels become. Even birds must sing a little louder over the cicada’s noisy refrain.
Secondly, the cicada emergence means millions (more like billions but I don’t want to scare my neighbors any more than necessary) of these insects not only are flying everywhere, but they also land and perch on everything. They do not discriminate between a tree trunk, car windshield, or a human head. It is impossible not to have a cicada or two or three collide into you. But again, harmless as a butterfly, though not as beautiful in appearance nor graceful when in flight or when bumping into your face.
Thirdly, humans freak out thinking cicadas will sting or bite. Not true. They do not bite or sting as they are members of the Hemiptera family of insects, which means they have sucking mouth parts to extract juices and nutrients from plants. While the females can damage tree saplings when they slit the twigs to lay their eggs, they don’t cause any physical harm to any beast or fowl, including my neighbors.
Fourthly, the sheer numbers of cicadas – remember we are talking millions, even billions of them -- overwhelm the uninformed fearful humans. If you visually set your sight on a branch with a few cicadas, close your eyes for a minute and when you open them again, there will most likely be a few more cicadas within your field of view.
In North America there are about 155 species of cicadas, most occurring in the western United States. With names like the dog day, scissor-grinder, swamp and northern duck-singing, cicadas are with us all the time, it’s just that this species – referred to as the Brood X periodical cicada – has a synchronized emergence while the other species have a staggered generational arrival.
Periodical cicadas are distinct from every other cicada species with their charcoal black body, deep red eyes, orange legs, and golden-laced wings. And speaking of its eyes, the cicada has three smaller less noticeable eyes between the two red ones.
This explosion of cicadas means lots of food for many species of birds, mammals, frogs, toads, and even fish. An additional benefit is once the adult cicadas finish their mating cycle – usually by the end of June – they die, fall to the ground, and become a rich nitrogen source for the soil. And then another 17 years passes before this experience happens again.
In part two, I’ll offer a few natural history tidbits and in part three, I’ll offer techniques I use to photograph this amazing natural phenomenon.
Periodical Cicada (c) Jim Clark
Periodical Cicada (c) Jim Clark
Periodical Cicada (c) Jim Clark
Periodical Cicada (c) Jim Clark