Brood X - the 17 year cicada

 I tend to be fascinated by the things and sometimes my family laughs at me. Well I am giving them all kinds of opportunities right now.     - Because cicadas -

A few months ago our local news started talkin about Brood X and it's impending emergence. The anticipation began building, I began looking for holes in the yard and for signs that it was time. Originally they said we should see them around May 10th, but we got a week of cold weather and it delayed their arrival.  In the mornings I would go out, still in my pjs, and take a peak at the base of our big maple. And then I saw them. Of course I had to report this to the whole family, sadly they aren't as excited as I am but thankfully they enjoy my excitement.

The brood started slowly with handfuls of nymphs climbing the nearest thing they could find. Most of the nymphs come out early in the morning. I would usually see them as they emerged and I was always thrilled to see them when they got out of their exoskeleton and they were still white. If I timed it well I would get to see some as they unfolded their white wings. These bugs survive purely because of a numbers game. They are easy pickings for the squirrels and birds. They are prone to falling, and failing to emerge all of the way, a lot of them don't have well developed wings when they do get out, and these are the ones that are littered across our side walk and driveway. But there are also a ton of successful cicadas who shed the exoskeleton and leave a crunchy layer in our grass and at the base of the tree.

It is not that often that easy to see bugs go through their life cycle on full display in great numbers. Their evolutionary development is fascinating, somehow they landed on a prime number for the likelihood of survival. They wait for 17 years to keep their species going, and it has been working. The last time they were up I had 3 young children. Megan was an infant. I remember pointing out the cicadas to the girls in the back yard. Before that is was 1987 and I was an eighth grader at OLV. From that year I remember Mary telling of the difficulty of mowing Uncle Henry's grass as they flew into her hair. Before that it was 1970, the year my parents got married. My Dad tells of the cicadas being a topic of intrigue and disgust for the visiting Wisconsin relatives in Grandad and Grandmom Debaugh's back yard at my parent's rehearsal dinner picnic. In 17 years we will all be at new unknown stages in our lives and I am hopeful that this Brood will be as strong as ever. 

I root for these awkward fascinating bugs. I tip them upright when I come across one on it's back. I sweep them off of Jim's tires. I move them out of the walkways and onto the trees. To me they are a sign of resilience and patience and purpose.  The cicadas song began in earnest last week and honestly it was a bit deafening. They are only just now beginning to haphazardly fly around. I don't love being startled by them but I do love them. They get quiet when it rains and volume increases as their wings dry out in the heat. They'll only be around for a few more weeks, so I will enjoy them while I can, as the family laughs a bit in the process.