Sunday, August 05, 2007


They emerge from the soil, crawl out of their skins and make a droning buzz that eats away at human sanity. For many people it is hard to appreciate the charm and beauty of the cicada.

Across North America various species of cicadas in a range of sizes and colors, fill the summer with a variety of buzzing frequencies. These alien-looking creatures spend most of their lives underground feeding on sap from plant roots. But, after a preordained time and usually urged on by a soaking rain, they dig up out of the ground. With oversized front claws they pull their plump nymph bodies up onto bush branches, tree trunks, even lawn furniture and front porches. They find an elevated location to shed their ground-dwelling persona and emerge as creatures of the air–complete with large, glassine-looking wings.

This spring and summer a special group of cicadas has been completing their cycle of life. These cicadas have been underground for 17 years. That’s right insects, old enough to drive in most states.

When you are crawling up out of the ground and plan to spend an hour or two in the vulnerable position of cracking open your skin and resting while your new exoskeleton hardens up and your wings unfurl, it is always wise to embark on such a venture with as many friends as possible.

Seventeen-year cicadas emerge by the thousands, even tens of thousands. Some groups cover multiple square miles. The husks of their old bodies cling everywhere like aged and discard rice-paper lanterns. The vibrating hum of their mating song overwhelms all other sounds. It is a mass invasion. For the insect-phobic, it can seem like a B-movie nightmare.

But the cicada’s time is short and their numbers over the centuries have been declining as more and more of their native habitat disappears. It is hard to move out of human development’s way, when you are a small creature living quietly underground.

The 17-year cicada is a marvel. Rather than disparage, we humans would do better to appreciate and embrace what we have in common.





Up through the morning crust

of yesterday’s mud

Clasp tight
rugged bark

Drag alien body into unknown worlds

Through silken air

Toward whispering leaves

Brilliant greens intoxicate

Beguiling sun caresses

Enticing you to shed

Suit of earthen armor

Decades of terrestrial brown


for velvety black

for luminous silver

for ruby eyes

The comfort of dirt

tossed aside

For precious days of blue skies

Blushing breezes

And a chance to sing

songs of summer love.

- by Keri Dearborn

First published in Cicada magazine in September/October 1998 and republished in July/August 2007

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