The Summer 2021 'Brood X' Cicada Roar Only Makes Things Weirder
In DC, Virginia, Maryland and as many as 12 other states you can probably hear them right now if you’re near any wooded area: the cicadas are roaring. Of “Brood X,” these are the weird ones that go into suspended animation underground for 17 years, then pop out for up to 6 weeks of loud mating calls (what you’re hearing) and climbing around everything clumsily, before they meet their maker.
There is something, in my mind at least, magical about any mere bug that has a life cycle longer than our dearest pets, cats and dogs. And — indeed — “magic” is even in the periodical cicada’s scientific name: Magicicada.
I looked into why the periodical cicada has such biological patience, hibernating or “suspending” for 17 years, only to enjoy a very brief above ground, conscious, mating-filled life — then to wither and die. It’s like some weird bug Shakespeare plot or something, so poignant, yet ultimately tragically pointless or futile to an extent. And that’s what I like about them.
The cicadas took over my car this morning. Here’s one resting comfortably and taking in some Sun on my front tire.
One theory is that these bugs evolved such a long lifespan (another type of periodical cicada come out every 13 years, as opposed to every 17) in order to “outlive” the life cycle of their main predators in nature, who I’ve read have only a 2 to 5 year life cycle, on average.
By hitting pause for so many years, quietly biding their time, the 17 year periodical cicada is so far removed from several generations of small predators in its environment that predator species never think to depend on the cicada for much of their food supply, and therefore the cicada has never really been targeted by any competent apex predators.
Kind of an ingenious solution. Hunker down. Set it and forget it, to the extreme. Disappear for several of your enemies’ life cycles, so they can’t become dependent on you. And then emerge in such overwhelming numbers one day that no matter how many try to feast on you, plenty survive to mate and carry on the great cicada race.
Some other cicada facts that blew my mind:
98% of cicadas die within the first 2 years of their existence, further adding to the existential poignancy of their species — those that survive deserve to be loud, I suppose.
Do cicadas ever bite? The answer is a little surprising: “Cicadas don’t eat by chewing up leaves; instead, they drink their meals. Cicadas use their mouthparts to tap into trees and drink tree fluids called xylem. Occasionally you’ll see cicadas piercing a branch with their mouthparts to take a drink. They aren’t particularly smart, and occasionally mistake people for trees. Luckily cicadas are not venomous.”
Some periodical cicadas can produce mating sounds up to 120 dB, making them one of the loudest insects on the planet.
If you live on the east coast, maybe you share my mild fascination with the cicada. They’re like weird nostalgia engines, due to the constant noise they make during their part of the summer, and their freakishly long life cycle.
The last time I heard this cicada hum all day on the east coast, I was in high school, my life hadn’t yet really begun. Now I’m in my mid-thirties, life has unfolded somewhat, less of the mystery is there. Survived a pandemic, now maybe aliens are real. Whatever — life’s like a box of chocolates, man.
The next time I hear these cicadas — the new generation of cicada, as it were — I’ll be in my fifties, an “old” man, with even less mystery ahead of me, and even more certainty behind me.
Strange bugs, these cicadas. I wish them a happy summer season here in the DMV!