June 2, 2011
“We hope that, when the insects take over the world, they will remember with gratitude how we took them along on all our picnics."
--the late Bill Vaughan, Kansas City Star columnist
Had enough of bugs yet? Any cicada sightings?
I am already sick of bugs, however bug season in the Midwest is only just beginning, I am sorry to report.
Recently, I saw enough cicadas to last me for years.
Swarms of cicadas in the Missouri Ozarks, so many that they sometimes crunched under one's feet. That is right, they crunch when you step on them.
This lovely outdoor spectacle is not quite as unsettling as when these prehistoric-looking creatures land on the back of your neck or settle into your hair.
Doesn't this sound like a bad B-horror movie, "Return of the Giant Cicada"?
It was. I lived it, but part of what happened was my own fault.
It seemed like a great idea one evening to make smores over an open campfire. We do that a lot in the summer, but I must admit, this is the first time I roasted marshmallows in the midst of a cloud of arthropods. Most of the evening we spent picking scary giant bugs out of each other's hair or out of our smores.
Cicadas landed on the marshmallows, got stuck in the melted Hershey bars, and were not at all afraid of the bonfire. A tall pole-light that stands nearby drew even more of these unpleasant invertebrates.
Shall we say it was a bad idea?
Despite consuming an occasional crunchy cicado that was stuck between graham crackers, some smores were consumed and enjoyed sans cicadas.
One online blogger, Good Medicine, suggested a way to eat them if you are so inclined: "Take and gut them, remove the wings and cover with honey, a good source for enriched protein (you have to eat the head, too) anyway, they are cheaper than $7.99 per pound center cut steak."
And this is supposed to make me feel better?
As you might guess by now, cicadas are currently chief on my list of most-disliked insect invaders.
Granted, we were told for some time that the horde was coming during the month of May and to expect them. Broods by the millions were to emerge from the ground where they spent years waiting for their grand entrance.
So dramatic these nasty-looking creatures.
Entomology experts at the University of Missouri explain that it doesn't take long for the nymphs to grow into giant brownish-black insects with six legs, large protruding red eyes, and transparent membranous wings.
A University of Missouri Extension report advises that the cicada nymphs attach themselves to trees, poles, and sides of houses with their claws. Then, according to Robert Barrett of the University of Missouri Department of Entomology, "The exoskeleton will split down the middle of the back and the adult will gradually pull itself free, leaving the cast skin attached to the substrate. The adults can live from five to six weeks."
Incidentally, I haven't mentioned their endless "singing" yet. Have you heard of the cicada love song, known to be the loudest song known in the insect world with some cicadas registering more than 100 decibels?
For me, this bothersome invasion of cicadas brings to mind what Ogden Nash once wrote about flies: "God in His wisdom made the fly. And then forgot to tell us why."
I guess it could be worse though, such as an invasion of giant mosquitoes. Wasn't it Andy Warhol who once said the mosquito was the state bird of New Jersey.
It is indeed positively buggy out there.
