by Melissa kay Bishop

The soothing song of the cicada; it creeps into your senses and can go on for quite a while before you realize you are hearing it. Their buzz is a kind of white noise that, like a fan, is so soothing as it fades in and out, you don't even hear it. Every year when I realize I am hearing the cicada, I always wonder how long they have been singing before I took notice.

It is odd for such a loud noise to have such stealth. The clicking buzz and whine of a single cicada is the loudest noise produced in the bug world and can be heard up to a mile away. All together, the males aggregate to create a chorus. They love the heat and their most spirited singing is done during the hottest part of the day, but can go on to produce the soundtrack to a lazy spring or summer evening.

This May will actually be noisier than recent years as the thirteen-year cicadas are due for their cyclical mass emergence. Middle Tennessee is predicted to be the epicenter of the cicada single's scene, which will be an incredible sight, and a cause for concern. Unlike the locust, cicadas do not dine on foliage, but the females cut into the bark of trees to lay their eggs. This does little damage to mature trees, but the young are vulnerable. They especially like apple, dogwood, and hickory trees.  Pesticide will not provide protection because the female will cut the bark and lay her eggs before she dies from the poison. It is recommended to cover young trees with cheesecloth.

They are a large and formidable looking bug, but are simply the gentle musician type. They do not bite or sting. They are also a beneficial bug as they provide nutrients to the soil and help aerate it.

A single cicada of the periodical species lives 13 or 17 years, most of which is underground. When they hatch as tiny specks from their eggs in the trees, they fall to the ground and begin to dig.  Once underground, they begin to suck the juices from plant roots and prepare to remain there for the next 13 or 17 years, depending on the species. Then, after a warm sunset, when the ground temperature reaches 64 degrees, they all emerge at once. There is safety in numbers and their group is called a cloud or plague. Their next move is to climb upon some vegetation, usually the bark of a tree, and molt.

As a child (and as an adult) I delighted in the summer pastime of picking their exoskeletons off of tree trunks.  A full hollow beetle-looking body, legs and all, is left behind as a shell of their former selves. What emerges, in their final state of adulthood, is a white winged creature, larger and more beautiful than what they were before.
It then takes a few days for their new bodies to harden and darken. They then begin to seek, sing, and mate, thus concluding the life of the male and leaving the female to fulfill her purpose of laying up to 600 eggs. They exist in this above ground adult stage for a brief four to six weeks.

The seventeen year cicada is mostly found in the Northeastern U.S. and the thirteen year cicada is found in the Southeast and Midwest. Because of Tennessee's location, we commonly see both. There are also annual cicadas and are called the Dog Day Cicada in tribute to their emerging time of year, midsummer.

Cicadas of various sorts are spread throughout the globe. In the Congo, they are a delicacy. In China, they are used medicinally.  In many cultures, they are seen as a powerful symbol of rebirth. To most of us, they are simply the auditory cue that lets us know the warm days are here and this year, they will be hard to ignore.


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