Listening To Cicadas

Unless you’ve been to the Upper Cape and parts of the Mid Cape over the last week or so, it may be hard to imagine the emergence of the cicadas as being anything more than a bunch of bugs flying around singing. If you’ve driven down Route 28 from Centerville to Falmouth, however, you may have wondered if you’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

Cicadas are totally harmless to humans and most plants, but they are not small or inconspicuous. They are quite large for an insect, about two or three inches long, and they are klutzy and slow, so they sort of bounce onto and off your car like little bullets made of spongy cotton or cardboard.

On a foray to Crane Wildlife Management Area in Falmouth the other day, I got to experience the plethora of cicadas firsthand. They were everywhere, flying, landing, and singing as they sat high in the trees all around. The sound was a loud hum, as if loud machines were whining instead of insects.

The birds were feasting, and cicada wings were dropping all over. Everywhere I looked there was a cicada looking back at me with those bright red eyes. One landed on my head while another landed on my arm. A quick shake and they were gone, but a few tried to meet with me face to face. I declined the offer.

I had gone to look for some birds that others had been spotting, and after walking all over dodging cicadas and trying to spot a singing scarlet tanager, I found both birds I was hoping to see within 50 or so yards of each other on the same tree. Two blue grosbeaks were at the very top of the tree, soon to be joined by a third before all three flew off and one chatty yellow-breasted chat was singing from a branch farther down in the same tree. Now that’s what I call efficient birding.

I showed a couple of other birders the chat and told them where the grosbeaks had flown off to and went on my way. I watched several kingbirds hawking for insects and tussling a bit. There were the resident eastern meadowlarks, towhees, swallows and killdeer as well as a red-tailed hawk that caused quite a ruckus. Every jay and crow arrived to escort it away.

The fields at Crane are always full of flowers, and the summer show has just begun. There were field daisies and yellow loosestrife, vetches and clovers, both red and white. Sheep laurel was passing but had been blooming in profusion along the side of the path. Milkweed was thinking about blooming, and by the time you read this probably will be in full bloom. There are several kinds of milkweed at this location, and when all are in bloom it is simply gorgeous.

Grasshopper sparrows aren’t common in most areas of the Cape, but they nest at Crane and are easy to see and hear when you know what to look for. Check them out at the Cornell All About Birds Website to learn more about them and to hear their trademark call.

The morning had started gray and foggy and there were lots of spiderwebs in the grass. Bees were busy in the flowers, and all through it all, the cicadas whined and bumped into everything around them, including me.

As I left the parking lot I rolled up my windows because the cicadas were crashing into my car from all directions. About a mile or so down the road I realized I had a little friend riding along with me, on my arm. I shook it off but had no idea where it had landed. Once I reached my destination farther into Falmouth I parked and saw my little friend looking out the passenger side window, so I lowered the window and bade it farewell. Later, on my way home I would find multiple cicadas in my car, which as a driver was a bit disconcerting, so I pulled over to let them out. I didn’t get them all, though, for later, at a stop light, I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw several crawling up the inside of my back window. Again, I stopped, opened the rear hatch, and out they went. It is several hours later as I write this, and I swear I can feel them crawling on me. Ha! Phantom cicadas.

The large number of cicadas can feel a bit overwhelming, especially to those living with them on their decks, in their gardens, on their homes and garages, and well, everywhere. They don’t stay long so it’s a temporary disruption. Although they may be a bit much for young trees, most trees will be just fine. The trees and cicadas have been doing this dance for a long time.

We see something like this and respond in different ways. Some are excited, some are grossed out, some are in hiding until they leave once again. For me, this is a spectacle that reminds us that nature continues to do its thing. For all our plans and ideas and supposed control, the 17-year cicadas still emerge from their long slumber in the ground to find mates, copulate, lay eggs, and die. They provide lots of high-protein food for many birds and animals, and they help winnow out failing or dying trees as well. Their depleted bodies fall to the ground where they will become part of the earth once again. The number of cicadas decreases each cycle and eventually they may die off as their habitat is paved over. 

What an amazing thing it is to witness this in spite of traffic, building, landscaping and all the other human things we do to try and control our environment. Nature goes on all around us all the time, in spite of us, in some instances. For the moment, I find this reassuring.