Swarms of 13-year cicada are covering swaths of the American south for the first time since 1998. Dwelling on the negative, some people are already griping over the bugs’ omnipresent “eerie” buzzing and discarded husks. They don’t know how lucky they are…
After 13 years of underground incubation, this unique cicada breed, called the Brood XIX, will soon attach itself to trees, cars and the occasional child from Arkansas to Virginia, playing their rhythmic percussion for the next five-weeks, at which point they’ll die.
Residents in Alabama and Georgia have already spotted them, and are registering complaints and concerns.
“We thought it was the nuclear power plant,” said one North Carolina woman, who also compared the cicada song to the noise of a UFO. Meanwhile, down in Tennessee, some people grimaced over the bugs’ “creepiness” and described them as a “nuisance.” But they shouldn’t be so quick to knock the cicada, because this bug is something special.
Cicadas, whose men compose varying pitched songs with the clicking of their exoskeletal tymbals, have long entranced the world’s cultures. The Chinese equate them with resurrection and rebirth, while the creature plays the “grasshopper” role in a French version of ‘The Grasshopper and the Ant.’ And mythological Greek mortal Tithonus, a lover of goddess Eros, becomes a cicada after Zeus grants him immortality, but not eternal youth.
These cultures aren’t alone in celebrating the cicada. North Carolina entomology professor Clyde Sorenson lauded this summer’s event as “really cool natural phenomenon” that only takes place “in eastern North America.” Nancy Hinkle, another etymology professor, also remarked, “This emergence is a great opportunity for an up-close view of this amazing phenomenon.”
And I have nothing but fond memories for the Ohio summers of 1987 and 1991, when the cicada Broods X and XIV made a boisterous appearance, delivering their soulful calls across the land. I approached the alien-esque insects with the wonder and curiosity found only in children.
Their call and response — one here, one there, video below — provided a fascinating relief from the rigmarole of my typical summers in the Ohio valley, and even today I can summon up faint wisps of that enchantment. It makes me wish I were in North Carolina or Georgia or elsewhere in the South, amongst the cicada call, which will no doubt become part of the backdrop for countless memories.
So those who are amidst the brood’s swarm, make a point of getting past some of the cicadas’ less alluring qualities — husks can be creepy — and appreciate the musical gifts this insect shares during its brief moment in the sun, because the cidadas are a six-legged reminder of that old life lesson: enjoy what you have now, because tomorrow it could be gone.
Here are some video of cicadas in aural action. First, the tone from the recent, 13-year outbreak in North Carolina.. Second, the one I remember, which I believe is more common among cicada in general.
After 13 years of underground incubation, this unique cicada breed, called the Brood XIX, will soon attach itself to trees, cars and the occasional child from Arkansas to Virginia, playing their rhythmic percussion for the next five-weeks, at which point they’ll die.
Residents in Alabama and Georgia have already spotted them, and are registering complaints and concerns.
“We thought it was the nuclear power plant,” said one North Carolina woman, who also compared the cicada song to the noise of a UFO. Meanwhile, down in Tennessee, some people grimaced over the bugs’ “creepiness” and described them as a “nuisance.” But they shouldn’t be so quick to knock the cicada, because this bug is something special.
Cicadas, whose men compose varying pitched songs with the clicking of their exoskeletal tymbals, have long entranced the world’s cultures. The Chinese equate them with resurrection and rebirth, while the creature plays the “grasshopper” role in a French version of ‘The Grasshopper and the Ant.’ And mythological Greek mortal Tithonus, a lover of goddess Eros, becomes a cicada after Zeus grants him immortality, but not eternal youth.
These cultures aren’t alone in celebrating the cicada. North Carolina entomology professor Clyde Sorenson lauded this summer’s event as “really cool natural phenomenon” that only takes place “in eastern North America.” Nancy Hinkle, another etymology professor, also remarked, “This emergence is a great opportunity for an up-close view of this amazing phenomenon.”
And I have nothing but fond memories for the Ohio summers of 1987 and 1991, when the cicada Broods X and XIV made a boisterous appearance, delivering their soulful calls across the land. I approached the alien-esque insects with the wonder and curiosity found only in children.
Their call and response — one here, one there, video below — provided a fascinating relief from the rigmarole of my typical summers in the Ohio valley, and even today I can summon up faint wisps of that enchantment. It makes me wish I were in North Carolina or Georgia or elsewhere in the South, amongst the cicada call, which will no doubt become part of the backdrop for countless memories.
Here are some video of cicadas in aural action. First, the tone from the recent, 13-year outbreak in North Carolina.. Second, the one I remember, which I believe is more common among cicada in general.
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