If you Google “cicada” you’ll learn that the 17-year cicada lives in the
northeastern states, while its 13-year cousin resides in the southeast. The difference is in the cycle of their nap. Both emit a loud and earsplitting screech that is only voiced by the males. They are attempting to mate with the females, so it is actually a mating call.
The effect when you are living close to a forest is a constant symphony of sound from about an hour after dawn until an hour before dark. That is in itself kind of weird, since the call ceases long after sunrise and before sunset.
It comes on and shuts off like someone threw a switch.
The mating of the 13-year cicada will go on for about two months, and it truly is enough to drive you to distraction.
When they finish the two-month mating process, the female lays eggs at the ends of tree branches, which usually causes the leaves to brown and the tip to break off and fall to the ground. When the eggs hatch, the young burrow into the soil for their long sleep.
The parents don’t survive the mating, but die off in time to fertilize the soil under the trees where they were screwing around. The whole mating cycle takes place from mid-May to mid-July and then we have another 13 years of peace and quiet before they return in 2024.
Oh, just in case you’re curious as to what the 13-year cicada looks like, here is a picture of one. It is pretty in its own way, I suppose, but it sure looks pretty ugly to me. (At least they don’t bite)
1 comment:
Hi, Harry. John B. sent me your way, so I thought I'd say howdy.
We don't hear the cicadas here in the Atlanta area, but I wish we did. We're originally from Baltimore, and I thought it was magical when the 17-year fellas cranked up their symphony. (Loved the crispy little carcasses they left behind, too.)
Take care. (Oh yeah, I agree with you about the state of today's education, too.)
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