"The Cicadas are here!" - This was the scene at a recent open house I hosted: Some were incensed that the cicadas had found their way indoors, as though the cicadas understood that doors and windows mark clear boundaries for insect-free, exclusively human habitation: "Get those creepy things outta here!" "Kill 'em!" Others were more understanding: "No, don't hurt them! They won't bite you!" It was a house divided. By and large, the younger humanoids were pro-cicada, and the elders weren't overly fond. There were also some young ones who were also not in favor. "We can't get this house! We like to play outside, and there'll be cicadas in our ears!" And some elders who were more curious, less violent in their approach: "Do you know if their red eyes make them able to see better?" "Does the rain affect their ability to fly?"
I have found the whole experience of Cicada Brood XIX to be a fascinating socio-eco-cultural case study in human understanding and behavior in respect to eco-justice and the wider "We." I went in search of basic information as to the "whats, whys, and wherefores" of the millions of cicadas who are providing an utterly astounding - if quite temporary - swelling chorus for us in these late-May early-June days around St. Louis.
The Whats: According to Missouri Department of Conservation Forest Entomologist Robbie Doerhoff, Cicada Brood XIX is emerging now after 13-17 years feeding on subterranean tree roots. They molt as adults, shedding their exoskeletons. "The females lay eggs in tree branches, and when those eggs hatch, teeny-tiny nymphs will drop from the branches to the ground and then they will start burrowing into the ground," Doerhoff said. "Then they find roots to feed on for the next 13 to 17 years." They're only around for a few weeks before they die.
The Whys: So, if they are so short-lived, why are they here at all? Doerhoff maintains that NO species needs to justify its existence. "No species needs to justify itself to humans, and every form of life is worthy of respect regardless of whether humans know what place it has in its environment's ecology. Ticks and mosquitos, for instance, are nuisances to humans, but play an important role in population control and as a food source for various animal species. But having a 'point' isn't necessary for a species to justify its existence. That being said, periodical cicadas have numerous research-proven benefits both during and after emergence." https://www.ksdk.com/article/tech/science/environment/missouri-cicadas-2024-emergence-st-louis-life-cycle-brood-xix-eat-live-bit-sound/63-868fc0e2-f618-46a7-82ab-d17ae14861b4
The Wherefores: So many of our questions about cicadas are really about us humans - how the cicadas affect us, intractably anthropocentric as we are. What can we learn about cicadas as they relate with us humans?
For example, do they bite (us)? No, they don't bite humans or other animals. Their mouths have evolved specifically to feed on tree sap. "They can't bite, they don't have that type of mouth," Doerhoff said. "And they can't 'sting' you with that type of mouth. As far as the rear side goes, females have a needle-like ovipositor that looks like a stinger, but they have no ability to sting."
There's nothing venomous or poisonous about the bugs, either, which is why they make an excellent protein substitute for numerous recipes. [Researchers] call it a 'piercing-sucking mouth part,'" Doerhoff said. "They feed in the tree's xylem ... that transports water in the trees. They suck the water, the sap, out basically, but it's not very nutrient rich. So they're sucking a lot of xylem contents from  a tree or plant." Cicada feeding isn't even damaging to mature trees, but young or small trees may be overwhelmed by periodical cicada feeding, so planting new trees during a periodical brood emergence may not be advisable.
So, if periodical cicadas don't bite humans, why are we so afraid/revolted/hostile/anxious/panicky whenever they emerge?
Their numbers may feel overwhelming and their flight pattern may feel erratic or unpredictable to generally stationary creatures like humans. Humans, like other animals, have a "fight or flight" stress hormone - cortisol - that is released when we feel threatened. Even though cicadas can't bite, they may alarm or "surprise" unsuspecting human bystanders by alighting on them or "thrumming" around their ears. "Surprise" or "startling" then morphs into fear, but the fear is not ultimately because the cicadas can bite/sting/poison us, but because we weren't ready for them to engage us.
Why aren't we ready to be engaged by cicadas? It's not like a "surprise attack," as if they're sneaking up on us. They're surrounding us with sound!
We are hyper-aware of that distinctive cicada singing/thrumming/whining. Take a listen: https://songsofinsects.com/cicadas/periodical-cicada How do cicadas sustain their gorgeous chorus? Actually, it is the male cicadas who thrum continually, calling for their mate. Don't we do something similar by preening, strutting, and like we're sirens or neon signs, putting the word out that we are available? The cicada sound can also be raised for alarm/warning, and encounter (celebration), as well as mating. The females, upon finding a suitable mate, will approach and click their wings, signifying to the male they are ready for mating. "It's like if you have a water bottle and if you squeeze it back and forth really fast, that cracking sound emits," Doerhoff said. "They have these body parts called tymbals around their legs ... they're rattling those tymbals, moving that organ back and forth, and that's how they make the sound." Isn't that extraordinary? Such a swelling chorus from these astounding creatures!
If the cicadas sound loud to humans for a relatively short period of time - around six weeks every decade or two - it's because we are not used to the natural world of other-than-human kin making all the noise in the biosphere! Mostly, that is our job - excessive noise from industrial machinery, engines revving, synthesized sound and bone-rattling explosives, oh my! The whole planet - all our creature-kin included - suffers from a deafening cacophony that is human-produced noise.
Periodical cicadas can produce thrumming sounds that range from 80 to 120 decibals (dBA), louder than a hair dryer and comparable to a low-flying jet aircraft, motorcycle, or a lawnmower. Their cadence is unmistakable to humans who are affronted at how loud their whining is - and at 94+dBA, prolonged exposure of 30+ minutes at that level can lead to permanent hearing loss. Still, we can always pop in a pair of earplugs for extended time outside if the noise bothers us while the periodical cicadas are singing. Other-than-human wildlife have no such protection from our perennial human noise pollution. https://www.aru.ac.uk/news/noise-pollution-is-hurting-animals#:~:text=Wild%20animals%20suffer%20chronic%20stress,pain%2C%20fear%20and%20cognitive%20problems.
For the wider, wilder "We" of our biosphere, cicadas are a mysterious, fleeting, truly potent, extremely precious contributor to the health and vibrancy of the planetary eco-system. "[Cicadas] provide really great soil aeration, especially in very compacted soils," Doerhoff said. "That benefits tree and plant roots because that provides areas for air and water to get into those very hard soils. They provide soil nutrients when they die. ...We actually see tree and shrub growth increase very rapidly in the three years after the cicada population has come out. Cicadas also provide a ton of food to animal populations, including, but not limited to raccoons, bears and countless migrating bird species. Wildlife populations will be more successful this year because of the emergence's role as a food source."
So, in the Great Cicada Debate of 2024, where do you find yourself on the spectrum of eco-social awareness and inclusion? Is it possible to learn more about these extraordinary creatures and welcome them once every 13-17 years with awe and wonder like we would the dance of the fireflies, the onset of spring bulbs, the display of the aurora borealis, or the experience of a total eclipse? Natural phenomena like sunsets and butterfly emergence, spring bulbs and autumn veggies, scintillating waterfalls, loon calls and whale song enthrall and delight us. Why not celebrate and marvel at the periodic cicada emergence?
What have we humans done for the planet to help the whole, the wider "We" in such a substantive way? Recycling or reducing plastic? Occasionally walking or taking public transit to cut our carbon footprint? Getting rid of pesticides in favor of maintaining healthy gardens, homes, and creature-kin? Being mindful that we are not the exclusive inhabitants of the biosphere? Remembering that we, too, are part of a swelling chorus, and that we need each other for resilience and vibrancy?
Where does that leave us with the cicadas? The entomologist says it well:
"They're just really cool," Doerhoff said. "They're some of the longest-lived insects, they only occur in eastern North America, and, in general, they're just really super-duper neat [creatures] that we really don't know that much about."
What can we learn from our choral masters, the periodic cicadas?
We're not alone! We're part of a much wider "We." We might learn to:
Emerge in all our glory after a mostly silent, hidden, grounding childhood, connecting with all life beneath the surface before we find our way as adults and sing our magnum opus
Soak up water and sweetness from our elders for sustenance
Wait until we are fully mature to emerge, to connect with others, and sing fully for all the world to hear just because we exist, because we matter to the whole and quality of life is key
Sing our hearts out and join in the chorus with all our kin - relentlessly - for mutual protection, celebration, and uniting with the life force that sustains us and gives us meaning
Give of ourselves fully while we live, and provide nourishment for other living beings and the whole planet as we die and return to Earth
Not bad lessons, eh? Cicadas for the Wider "We!"
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