Last week, I was invited to appear on WHMP’s “Talk The Talk” radio show with Brian Adams. This was my fourth appearance on the show, and I had an absolutely wonderful time. Though we’ve only met a few times, I consider the entire gang a group of great friends and I hope that comes through to the listeners. I think that it would be really easy to hang around for an hour or more just chatting away about all things nature.
During the program, Brian made a personal request for me to write a column on cicadas. During the interview (a link is available on my website), he asked if I had ever seen one of these mysterious creatures, and as luck would have it, I was able to say yes.
It was back in the 20th century when I was working as a ranger for the Massachusetts State Parks. One of these huge flying insects happened to launch itself into the air, slowly losing altitude while heading straight in my direction. Fortunately, I had my camera with me, and I was able to take three photos of the beast. They remain the only cicada photos that I have managed to acquire in my 28-year photography career.
There is a mountain of information that I need to cover, so I shall dispense with the narrative and get straight to the natural history information on cicadas. You might want to top off your favorite morning beverage before I get started because this is going to be a wild ride. I’ll wait.
Ready? Okay, here we go.
Cicadas are extremely large flying insects placed in the taxonomic order “Hemiptera,” which is casually referred to as the “true bugs.” They are further narrowed into the family “Cicadidae” for the simple reason that there are so many of them. Around the world, there are more than 3,000 species. In North America, there are more than 170 species, many of which are only found in highly specific regions.
The life cycles of cicadas are generally similar. During the warmest months of the summer — and for the purposes of this column, I will focus on the month of August — male cicadas start to sing their long, droning songs during the daytime hours. The song is generated using special structures called “tymbals,” which is a thin window-like membranes on the sides of the abdomen. The abdomens of male cicadas are generally hollow and act as resonating chambers, similar to the function of an acoustic guitar. These hollow abdomens don’t allow for the digestion of too much food, so male cicadas only live for about two months after they start their breeding cycle.
Female cicadas are drawn to the songs of the males and once they select their favorite minstrels they will mate. Once this is accomplished, the females then search for branches in the tops of trees that have relatively thin bark. Females are equipped with a variety of tools, one of which is a small cutting device that they use to carve a slit into the tree bark. Then, using another tool called an “ovipositor,” the female will inject her eggs into the opening that she just made. Once this is complete, the females generally die off; their final acts ensuring the survival of their species.
The eggs hatch and then the young “nymphs” allow themselves to fall to the ground where they burrow into the soil. They spend the majority of their lives (2 to 17 years) living as parasites on the roots of trees, using a needle-like “mouthpart” to pierce the surface and slurp up the sap. The specific amount of time living underground varies widely among the many different species, but some of the most famous are those that live in the southern US and feature prominently in television broadcasts of the Masters Golf Tournament. The nymphs all synchronize their emergence so that astounding numbers of adults all appear at once. This overwhelms predators and ensures their general survival, while creating quite the ruckus for golfers and spectators alike.
The species that I managed to see way back in 1999 was the dog-day harvest fly (Neotibicen canicularis). Also known as the dog-day cicada and the heatbug, this is a species of annual cicada that emerges in smaller numbers every year. The “dog-day” portion of the name is a reference to the fact that these insects generally emerge in the month of August, which coincides with some of the warmest and most humid days of the year. But why “dog-day?” Good question.
It is in the month of August that the star “Sirius” is visible in the morning sky. Calling it a “star” is a bit of a stretch because this point of light (the brightest in the sky) is actually a binary system. Nonetheless, Sirius is a prominent member of the constellation Canis Major. Those of you who are familiar with Latin terms will recognize the word “Canis” as meaning “dog.” Thus, Sirius is known as the “dog star,” which is the most prominent point in Canis Major — the great dog. This is why we refer to this time of year as the “dog days of August.”
The first cicada songs of the year are bittersweet for me. They are an indication that the natural world is humming along like a well-oiled machine, but they also signal the beginning of the end of my summer vacation. Brian Adams has informed me that he heard the first cicadas in his yard last week, but I haven’t heard any in my yard yet. The birds in our area have started to quiet down for the year, but the cicadas (and their nighttime counterparts the katydids) are about to fill the landscape with their magical songs. If you get the chance, spend a little time outside and enjoy this music that has filled the summertime air since the days of the dinosaurs.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 29 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more information visit www.speakingofnature.com, Speaking of Nature on Facebook, or the Speaking of Nature Podcast.