Cicada Invasion

Nashville has these bugs called cicadas (pronounced si-cay-duh). They are a locust-like creature. They are everywhere, flying all over the city, mainly around the tops of trees. They make a very loud buzzing noise which is their mating call. As it turns out, they only appear every 13 years for the summer months and then disappear again. They come up out of the ground by the millions. This years’ cicadas are called Brood XIX and the last time they were here was in 1998, the year Ross and I were married. Sounds a bit like a plague, doesn’t it? And, lucky us, we just happen to be here the summer they made their big showing.

I actually like the noise they make as a collective group. It’s a sort of backdrop of white noise against everything else, a chorus of buzzing that makes the air feel alive.

I do not like, however, some of their other qualities. For instance, when one breaks loose from the pack, it buzzes around aimlessly for a while, looking like a drunk guy stumbling his way down the street. In this state, it will often nose-dive right into your face, hair, or in my case, neck. About twice a day, one of these lovely bugs will crash into my neck or forehead at which point I will jump around flapping my hands all over my head and face, trying to free myself of the bug. It’s such a pretty sight. Especially when standing in line at the movie theater surrounded lots of other movie-goers. Embarrassing, yes, but as silly as I know I looked, I didn’t receive laughter or snickers, only sympathetic glances and nods from everyone else who has also had a cicada crash into their face.

The cicada has a short life span, so around the base of trees, you will find hundreds of dead ones. I’ve heard from dog owners that their dogs get so full eating cicadas, they don’t even eat their dog food for the summer months.

Gross.

I’ve also heard some people say that they’ve eaten them, but since I’m not Bear Grylls or stranded in the middle of a forest, I’ll pass. Although they’re said to have about as much protein per pound as red meat, the thought of grilling one up on a shish kabob makes me want to dry-heave.

Take this quote for instance from an article featuring the best way to cook cicadas…

"The best time to eat cicadas is just after the nymphs break open their skin and before the exoskeleton turns hard. They are best harvested in the cool of the morning when the insects are more sluggish."

Yummy.

The kids have a love-hate relationship with the cicadas. They are fascinated by them, but also think they're gross. When we first got here, they called them all kinds of versions of the word cicada. Naomi, especially, dislikes them. She is always screaming out, "ooh. I hate those those yucky potatoes" or "ooh, I don't like those picadoes."

Who knew I could add “Surviving the cicada invasion” to our list of summer goals? But after dealing with them all summer, you can bet I will proudly wear that t-shirt (if there were such a shirt and it was cute).