Cicadas everywhere

They really are everywhere, or so it seems. In the Asheville area, the constant trill is almost mind numbing, especially around noon.
We are experiencing a phenomenon that has had people in awe for hundreds (and probably thousands) of years. The old folks, and here I mean the people who were my grandparents' age when I was growing up, called them Locusts, and said that they were the locusts of the Bible that plagued Pharaoh, when Moses was asking him to release the Jews (Children of Israel). They did not know, due to the insularity of the Mountains, that a locust is a different creature altogether; a grasshopper.
These creatures have an extraordinary life, one that extends for 17 (or 13 in some cases) years underground, and emerge all at once in a horde that totally swamps any predators, allowing most of them to feed (some say they do feed), mate, and deposit eggs in relative peace.
What makes them so terribly special to me, and almost magical (indeed, their Genus is Magicicada), is this hidden life, and I have always celebrated the emergence as a special event. I know that some folks do not (including my wife Suzanne), but I rejoice in them.
They are in all the trees here, and can be seen flitting around from tree to tree. I have heard two different songs, the "Pharaoh" trill of the species M. septendecim, and the odd ratcheting sound of what was likely a M. cassini.

My first experience of these insects was when I was 6 years old, in 1957, as I wrote in a previous post. I was unable to handle them then, as the old folks said they were "poisonous". In 1974, I handled them, and photographed them, and again in 1991. I am playing with them this year too, and even brought one in the house, and photographed it emerging, a pretty little male. You can see him in his white coloration before he turned to the orange color of full adulthood.

I am glad to have seen this emergence, and this is likely to be my last or next to last of this brood number 14 (XIV), as I am 57 years old, and have a dissected aorta. (Uh oh! ) However, I might see another in 17 years, if I am a good boy!

Enjoy, and come see them before they are gone, and the babies take another 17 years!

Blackberry Winter and "Locusts"

Blackberry Winter has been here, and thankfully, there was no frost. What is Blackberry Winter, you ask? It is that cold spell in the early part of May when the Blackberries are blooming in this part of the country. The Jet Stream is still writhing like a big old snake on hot ground due to the change over to Spring, and cold fronts march across our country like invading armies, only to be repulsed by the Summer to come. These cold fronts don't do much in most of the country, but here, in the Southern Appalachians, we feel it. The old folks said that if there were no cold and rain when the Blackberries were blooming, Blackberries would not bear. I have to agree, from observation. Curious.

On quite another note, a rather rare occurrence is taking place here, and it has me terribly excited. It has had me excited since I was a small child, and i have only seen it three times in my life, and this year makes four. A low trill fills the air, not really loud, but certainly noticeable, a trill that oddly resembles the trill of an American Toad, but only heard every seventeen years instead of every Spring. It will become a background to life for about two months, and then fade away. It is the song of the Seventeen Year Cicada, called Locusts by the old people. It is one of the largest broods, brood # XIV, and has quite a widespread occurrence. The old Mountaineers like my grandparents would tell me they are the Locust of the Bible, and even call "Phaaaraoh" (their trill is uncannily like the word Pharaoh, curiously) and since they have a synergistic emergence, they truly seem to be here in plague proportions. Since they only come out every seventeen years, and the nymphs live underground for seventeen years, they would seem something mythical, or perhaps, Biblical. There are so many of them, and the egg laying activities of the females make such an evident mark on trees, leaving dead twigs hanging everywhere, that it is understandable why folks think it is a "plague". Actually, the tree damage does no harm, and few if any die from the "damage". You can see a picture of a representative of one of the species (there are three actually) at the top of this blog; I do not have the technical expertise or the patience to move it to the middle of the page.
Older people, when I try to tell them these are NOT Locusts, will disagree, and will go into that response common to many Southerners "are you callin' me a LIAR?!". No, I am saying you are ignorant. Sorry, but that response brings out the worst in me.
It has been said that inside every tall tale is a hard kernel of fact. I have found that in some cases, it is a hard kernel of ignorance. The old people had never seen a Locust, a type of grasshopper (see Locust Photos and Wiki Locust), so obviously called them a Locust. The fact that the call, a trill that rises slightly and then falls quickly, sounding very like a trilled "Pharaoh" is the final nail. This call can be heard on the site www.magicicada.org, where they have calls of all three species liable to be out.
Another thing I was told when I was seven years old was that they are poisonous, and if they sting you, you will die, probably because the females "sting" trees, and the twigs die. Not. They are harmless, and even edible, if you are so inclined (Man vs. Wild, anyone?). I prefer to observe them, and listen to the chorus. Matter of fact, I think I will go listen to the chorus of "Phaaaroah", and see if I can handle a few.
Bye now!