Cicada Year: The Cicada Cycle

My home state, Kentucky, is the only state with the dubious distinction of being completely infested with cicadas this year. No other state will have the noisy critters in every corner.

The problem with this, besides the noise, is that one of the most beautiful plants native to the state is the dogwood; both red and white versions cover the state, their blooms in April bright against the green grass and hills the state is known for. And cicadas love dogwood, as well as new fruit trees.

The Lifecycle of the Cicada

Cicadas, unique among insects, have life cycles that last for two, five, thirteen, or seventeen years; this year's cicada is the seventeen-year bug. The years seem odd, but they have one thing in common: each is a prime number. Except for the two-year cicada, it makes it difficult for predators to sync with the cicada, allowing them to breed relatively unmolested by cicada wasps and preying mantises.

Cicadas come out in full form for this one month to mate, and only to mate. They don't eat solid foods, and they die after mating and laying eggs. Only the male cicada makes the characteristic loud chirp, a single one of which is as loud as an average kitchen blender. It's his obnoxious mating cry for the female.

After mating, the two bugs go their separate ways. The female cicada finds an appropriate tree, preferably dogwood or apple, peach, cherry, and pear trees; they are also fond of hickory and oak trees. She finds a fresh twig, cuts a slit in it, and lays some eggs; this process is repeated until she's out of eggs.

When the eggs hatch, the babies, called nymphs, do not harm the twig any further (though just being filled with cicada babies is more than enough to kill many young trees). Instead, they drop off the branch to the ground, where they burrow into the roots. Here they attach themselves, feed a little (not enough to damage the root system), and live as nymphs until the next emergence.

The mature cicada only emerges when the ground reaches a high enough temperature, in early May for most areas, and die off by mid-June. In 2007, therefore, the crop is a little late, probably due to the unseasonably cold and wet weather suffered by so many of the areas the cicadas live in.

There is not just one brood of cicada, but rather many separate broods, enough for some to come out each year. Brood XIII, the one coming up in 2007, is the largest brood, and therefore they're getting a lot of extra attention. Normal broods are much smaller and more localized, but still loud and obnoxious.

Cicadas Aren't All Bad

Sure, when the cicadas are out you have a problem with every outdoor event because of the noise and because cicadas have a habit of completely covering everything they like. For instance, there's an ice sculpture company in Chicago that won't do any outdoor business for a month or so because cicadas are very fond of ice on hot days. You will have to tent in all food, or risk cicadas covering your cake or masquerading themselves in your raisin-carrot salad.

But there is one group of creatures that love it when cicadas come out: your pets and livestock. Cicadas are a grand boom for free-range chickens, and you can look forward to fatter chickens with better eggs. Your dogs love to snap them up, and your cats will have a frenzy of stalking.

There are also a class of gourmands who love to use Native American or Mediterranean recipes for frying, baking, or stewing cicadas.

If you grew up in the South, too, there's something oddly comforting about the cicada song, something reminiscent of the woods and ponds and swamps. For us, cicada month is a time to sit out back on the screened-in porch and just reminisce.