Cicadas. Or as we say in my neck of the woods, "chick-ayduh bugs.
It’s been 17 years since the last seasonal brood of cicada bugs emerged from their long subterranian slumber and paid a visit to the East Coast of the USA.
This generation of cicadas in named Brood X.
(I find myself wondering if the 1987 swarm was called The Baby Boomer Brood & whether the 2021 brood will be called Brood Y).
According to National Geograhic Online, Brood X is a couple of degrees / days / inches away from paying us a visit.
If you live east of the Mississippi, you can look forward to:[ul]
[li]A very noisy May. [/li](I kinda like the sound - especially in the morning. It kinda says love is in the air.)
[li]The tops of tress being ravaged. [/li](Think of all the $ you’ll save on that arborist you were gonna hire to trim back all the new growth).
[li]Getting pelted in the face if you ride a bicycle or motorcycle. [/li](Even if your from the ‘Fuck Helmet Laws’ crowd - I strongly suggest you go out and get one with a face shield).
[li]Outdoor cats having a ball. [/li](After cicadas finish mating, they like to lay half dead on your back patio. Cats like nothing better than toying and sparring with them).
[li]Dogs flipping out. [/li](Chowhounds; like my 2 dogs, sometimes try to eat them. Imagine their shock when their assumed lifeless treats begin protesting by buzzing around in their mouths).
[li]Little boys tormenting the little girls in the neighborhood. [/li](There’s nothing like the shrieks of little girls on a warm spring weekend as the boys next door pick cicadas off the ground and hold them in your daughters faces. It kinda says, Summer’s almost here)[/ul]
If you’re too young to recall the last swarm - or if you’ve moved to the east coast after the Spring of 1987 - You’re in for either a rare treat - or a big nuisance - depending on your perspective.
I remember a brood that popped up in the summer of '92, when I lived outside of Athens, GA. Those suckers were LOUD. I’d be on the porch drinking beer with my roommate (I did that a lot that summer), and one of them would start up and we’d literally have to shout to be heard over him.
I lived in Baltimore the last time those nasty things ‘visited’. Freaked me out. I am just not a big nasty bug kind of a gal, especially in Baltimore where they are really more like ‘yet another but these are special’ kind of nasty brown flying/crawling/possibly get in your hair kind of bug. I’ve got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.
I remember a brood in Nashville in the summer of 1998, but I didn’t have the cats them.
I’m quite sure that the kitties will LOVE watching these through the screen door (I’m not letting the clawless wonders outside, even onto a second floor balcony.) Jake in particular will barely be able to hold himself back from the door.
Me? Well…my windows will stay open at night, unless they get too loud. I really don’t want to turn on the AC this early in the year though - I finally got a bill with no heat for a month, and I’d like to get a second one that low before we get deep into AC season.
I’d love to hear more about these damn things, since all anyone at work has been able to tell me is that they’re going to be everywhere and hella noisy.
Especially from you, herownself, as I’m now living in your old haunt, Charm City.
I remember the last time. They were so thick on the sidewalks in the downtown area, the shop owners would have to sweep them into the gutters so that you could walk without the constant crunch, crunch, crunch.
What made it really bad was that it was also incredibly hot at the same time. Imagine the smell of decomposing cicadas in the gutters. It wasn’t pleasant.
*Periodical cicadas are best eaten when they are still white (teneral), and they taste like cold canned asparagus.*I, for one, am horrified by the coming infestation. But, in the great words of FDR “There’s nothing to fear, but fear itself.” So, I’ve decided (at least for now) that I’m am going to conquer my fear by eating some of those damn buggers. Besides, I like asparagus…even from a can.
Tentacle Monster, I’ll give you my informed opinion once I’ve actually caught and eaten a couple of the dudes. Although I’m racking my brain trying to think where in the heck I might be able to find some. I’ll have to see what kind of trees they like and roam the parks around here at night looking for 'em.
The X is not, in fact, a generational marker - it is a brood designator. Brood X has always been Brood X:
From JohnBckWLD’s first link in the OP. Brood X was the brood that appeared in 1902. So, in 2005, Brood XI will make its appearance, and so on until Brood I starts the cycle again in 2012.
So now I’m all interested in the thirteen-year cicadas as well. Sheesh.
An interesting BBC article, which notes that there were originally 30 broods of periodical cicadas, but that some of the broods have apparently become extinct.
Another nifty cicada FAQ, which has maps of where the still extant broods emerge.
And, for our grandchildren, should all go well, the year 2089 ought to be real interesting. That year, Brood X (the biggest brood of the 17-year cicadas) and Brood XIX (the biggest brood of the 13-year cicadas) will both emerge. Basically, the whole Southeast US will be Cicadaville. And again in 2310.
Well, you’re hearing other broods of the 17-year species every year, as well as the annual species. So it’s no surprise you’re hearing cicadas every year.
Boil the cicadas and anises in salted rice wine for five minutes, then remove the cicadas.
Saute the mashed garlic, adding water and rice wine to make a paste.
Deep-fry the cicadas, then skewer them with bamboo picks. Arrange them on a plate with the turnip greens, celery, and garlic paste to look like the cicadas are climbing out of a mud pie onto green foliage. Bon appetit!
(Courtesy of West Virginia University Alumni Magazine)
BTW: there is at least one restaurant around here, don’t remember which, that has added fried cidadas to its appetizer menu.
Thanks for the links, Olentzero. Now I know I’m not going nuts when I remember the hoard of cicadas in 1998.
My friend and I would sit on my back deck drinking beer and watching the cat catch cicadas. I don’t think she liked the way they tasted though. Unlike everything else she would catch she wouldn’t eat the darned things; she would just sit there with one in her mouth, not wanting to let go, but not wanting to eat it either.
