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6/25/2021

Cicada Redux

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PictureCicada crash. That’s an empty flask of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky you see. Some of these characters had a little too much fun. Photos by David Hoefer.
David Hoefer of Louisville, Ky., the co-editor of The Last Resort, bids a fond farewell to the Brood X cicadas. If you would like to submit a post to ​Clearing the Fog, please contact us here.

The cicada bloom is finally starting to wind down in my neck of the woods (which is the Louisville Highlands). It is increasingly possible to hold an intelligible conversation with another human outside the house and to travel the sidewalks without the regular crunch of dead or dying bugs underfoot. 

That said, I had a final cicada experience that might be worth relating. I’m currently taking an online birding course through the Cornell Lab of Ornithology (an organization whose praises I’ve sung previously on this blog). One of the exercises, called “sit-spotting,” involves sitting outdoors for 15 minutes, observing the immediate surroundings, and making note in a field journal of all that which most impinges on the five senses. In a Kentucky suburban environment, that ought to mean birds, squirrels, chipmunks, bees, cats, breezes, floral scents, etc. I did this a couple of weeks back, when the cicadas were still hot and heavy. Not wise. My entries read something like: 

  • Heavy drone in the air. Cicadas sawing away.
  • The driveway is a carpet of wings and shells. 
  • One of the adults just flew past me. And another. 
  • Hey, finally—a bird. It’s a House Sparrow eating one of the cicadas. 
  • What’s that on my neck? Yup, a cicada. (Editorial aside: I’ve gotten good at grabbing them by the wings and launching them into space.)
  • Another cicada flyby. And another. 
  • The sparrow has corralled a second bug. Absolutely brutal vivisection. 
  • Wait—was that a chipmunk? No, just wishful thinking. 
  • Small branches with dead leaves in the yard—branch flagging. The females are laying their eggs. 
  • Sparrow on bug number three. 
  • Now they’re landing on my shoulder.
  • Sheesh—cicada number four for our sparrow. Is gluttony a sin in the animal kingdom?
  • My fifteen minutes are up. I’m going inside.
​I’ll give the cicadas this: every 17 years they put on what is truly a command performance. I guess part of the diversity of nature that we always go on about, is that sometimes there is very little diversity at all.
​
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From the cicada Kama Sutra?

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4 Comments
Myra Goodlett
6/25/2021 05:09:26 pm

David, I'm in Lexington and did not see any, but I heard that were terrible in Louisville, glad they are gone for 17 years. Thanks for writing a eulogy that finally made me laugh.

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David Hoefer
6/25/2021 10:41:34 pm

I'm glad that you enjoyed the farewell, Myra - and that you didn't have to put up with the little buggers in Lexington!

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HANNAH J HELM
6/26/2021 10:12:35 am

What a fun post. I had quite a few here in northern Franklin Co, but am surrounded by such a jungle I mostly saw them flying from tree to tree from my covered porch. Loved reading about the sparrow. I may need to brave the ticks and find a sit spot with more of a view. I never see many changes from the porch.

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Joan Cullen
6/26/2021 11:37:48 am

The word "sublime" kept coming to mind during my shared time with the cicadas this year. Appreciation and the accompanying pleasure at observing an awesome force of nature.

An exaggeration, I know. Hardly compares to the terrifying beauty of the antarctic or an erupting volcano. However, it felt like the nearest thing I could experience in my garden in the Highlands. It did not disappoint and I actually feel lucky that they hung out here for a few weeks.

A lesson for Gardener's: don't put off planting trees and shrubs until the last year, before the next emergence.

Thank you, David, for all the great information.

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    Between the debilitating effects of age and the 24-hour crush of mind-bending news, my brain is frequently in a fog. Nonetheless. I'll occasionally try to sweep aside the ashy gray matter and shed some light on what's going on at Murky Press. Perhaps together we can also gain a little insight into how we can better use words to organize and clarify the world around us.

    Cheers! 
    Sallie Showalter, Murky Press 

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