Summer of the Cicadas

It’s cicada summer in Asheville, and I think we can be forgiven for feeling like this is the latest stage of a never-ending apocalypse. First, a devastating hurricane delivered high winds and deadly floods, followed by wildfires that devoured our unswept forests, and now—locusts. (Okay, “experts” say that cicadas are not locusts, and the adults don’t devour anything, but nothing suggests impending doom like clouds of giant bugs that make a sound like the Luftwaffe, incoming.)

Many people call these “17-year-locusts,” but “experts” say they are “Brood XIV periodical cicadas” which emerge every seventeen years.

Pro tip: If you see something unusual in your neighborhood, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT go to NextDoor for an explanation. Even if that’s where you get all your news. Many people seem to believe that it’s neighborly to provide an answer to posted questions, whether from a place of knowledge or not.

Q: What are all these little holes in the ground?

A: Little tiny snakes. Deadly poisonous. Put your house up for sale.

Q: What are all these big bugs everywhere? Are they harmful?

A: Locusts. They can strip a full-sized tree in a matter of hours. Run for your lives.

Q: Does anyone else hear a loud buzzing sound in Beaverdam?

A: High voltage power lines. They cause cancer. Or,

A: It’s the government. Black helicopters. Run for your lives.

Q: My dog is eating those big bugs. Are they poisonous?

A: They are high in protein, but, watch out. If the dog is female, she might have a litter of locusts. That’s how they reproduce.

In fact, “experts” say that cicadas are harmless. That noise you hear is the males, singing to attract females. They emerge from the ground after seventeen years, horny as can be, on a mission to mate, lay eggs, and die, leaving us to sweep up their spent carcasses. But only after we’ve run over them with the car.

When the eggs hatch, a new generation of nymphs tunnel into the ground, living on tree root sap and the promise of a good time in seventeen years.

I did my own research, and discovered that there are legends and tales about locusts cicadas. The ancient Greeks said that there were men who were so obsessed with singing that they forgot to eat or drink. The Muses turned them into cicadas.

It’s also said that when cicadas emerge, the first frost of autumn will happen six weeks later. If that’s true, global warming is a myth, and we’re in more trouble than I thought.

Some say that markings on cicada wings can foretell the future. For example, a ‘W’ means war, and a ‘P’ means peace (or, possibly, ‘plague,’ which commonly comes after fires, floods, and locusts.) Here’s a handy website that explains the markings you might find on your local cicadas. https://www.cicadamania.com/downloads/cicadaletters.pdf

I examined some locusts in my yard for clues. No locusts were harmed in the process.

This one has a clear ‘W,’ meaning WAR.

The next one had a ‘Z’ which could mean the zombie apocalypse is on its way.

After that, I quit looking. I don’t want to know.

“Experts” go out of their way to explain how beneficial these bugs are, claiming their tunnels aerate the soil and allow more moisture to get to tree roots. Cicadas don’t eat your garden or suck your blood or sew your eyes shut while you sleep (which is more than can be said for rabbits and mosquitoes and dragonflies.)

Still, you can tell me all day long how harmless they are, but wait until one of those huge ugly harmless bugs lands in YOUR hair.

In case you think that Asheville has lost its sense of humor, you should know that a local bakery, Beeswax and Butter,

https://www.beeswaxandbutter.com

is making “cicada cookies” available for sale at farmer’s markets and such. (Note: these cookies do not contain actual cicadas, which to my mind is a point in their favor.)

A Missouri family claims that actual cicada cookies are “not bad at all.” https://asheville.macaronikid.com/articles/664cbdbd919b4732af5d2225/buzzing-about-cicada-cookies-one-familys-culinary-adventure

My advice? If somebody offers you some, run for the hills.