It won’t affect anyone who lives outside the 16 states where a vast swarm of cicadas will emerge—and blanket pretty much everything in sight. It is a once in 221-year event—that won’t repeat itself until 2245. That alone is a good reason to be curious—whether you live in cicada country or not.
First, what exactly is a cicada?
There are more than 3,000 species of this insect—that range from 2 to 5 cm. They are best known for their, um, singing. Some of them can be very loud:
The shrill thorntree cicada (Brevisana brevis), found in Africa, is thought to be the loudest insect in the world. Exceeding 106 decibels, the males’ songs are nearly as loud as a chainsaw (110 decibels).
Say hello to the Magicicada: These pretty-named creatures are a special kind of cicada—not the annual kind you hear all the time. Most of these periodical cicadas— seven species—are found in North America. The other two are in India and Fiji. They emerge from the ground either once in 13 years or once in 17 years.
The life cycle: Female cicadas lay eggs—around 400 to 600 in a lifetime. These hatch and fall to the ground. The baby cicadas immediately start burrowing underground—where they feed on plant roots and grow. When the time comes, the cicadas emerge en masse. The males frantically sing to attract a female. Over the course of four to six weeks, they first molt, then mate, lay eggs and die.
Cool fact to know: So how do cicadas know it’s time to come out—since they do not have clocks or calendars? The answer is impressive:
During their long stint underground, the insects sip at xylem sap, the nutrient-poor but water-rich liquid that moves from a tree’s root tips up to its canopy. Each year as a tree buds and blossoms, its xylem is briefly richer in amino acids, leading one team of researchers to call it “spring elixir.” Cicadas appear to count each flush of spring elixir.
But scientists don’t know how they keep track of each flush: “We know that’s what they count. Where they’re putting their little chalk marks on the wall, we don’t know… We don’t really understand how they’re keeping track of it.”
About those broods: Cicadas are often confused with locusts because they live in broods:
Different groups of cicadas come out in different years in different places. This year’s group is called Brood X, as in the Roman numeral 10. There are 15 broods that still come out regularly. Others have gone extinct. Some come out every 13 years. Some, including Brood X, come out every 17 years.
This year is special because two broods—XIX and XIII—will emerge together for the first time since 1803. This event will not occur again until 2245.
Where you can see them: Across 16 states in the US. The first waves will emerge in the South:
The number to note: There will be a trillion cicadas emerging in the US this summer. They would cover 15,782,828 miles if they were placed end to end, according to experts: “That cicada train would reach to the moon and back 33 times.”
But it must be nuts. So many insects…
Yes it is quite an astonishing event to witness—though not if you’re icked out by insects. The first amazing thing is the sound—i.e the mating calls of the males. Here’s how they sing:
Cicadas sing by flexing small drum-like organs in their abdomens, and what you hear in the trees is called a chorus. It’s nothing but males trying to attract females by singing to them. Think of them as the insect version of a boy band. Each species has their own song. When the females are interested, they twitch their wings.
As with many living species, the females reward stamina—males who can sing the longest, loudest or in hot weather.
What it sounds like: You can hear/watch a single male cicada in action here:
And here’s how loud they are together:
This is the Indian cicada—which sounds even more annoying lol!
OK, is there anything good about this?
Yes, there are many good things about the cicada. They are lovely creatures that do not bite or sting or cause disease. Instead, they provide nourishment to a wide range of species—from chickens to birds and squirrels. They are a gift that keep on giving:
When they emerge, they feed entire forest ecosystems. Animals will have larger offspring as a result of the additional energy. And when the cicadas die, they contribute nutrients back to the ground, feeding soil microorganisms and the trees and plants around them.
As for human khana: The pale, unmolted kind apparently taste like “cold canned asparagus.” But don’t be put off by the description. There’s an entire cookbook called ‘Cicada-licious: Cooking and Enjoying Periodical Cicadas’—available online for free (yay!). The possibilites include:
You can start with cicada dumplings appetizers, move to “El Chirper Tacos” and finish off with “Chocolate-Chip Trillers,” which are cicada cookies, Raupp’s favorite. “They have a buttery texture, a delicious, nutty flavor, probably from the tannins, from the roots of the trees on which they fed,” Raupp says. “And they’re going to be really good with a Merlot.”
Chef Joseph Yoon is famous for cooking with insects—and this is his cicada avocado toast:
The bottomline: We leave the last word to biology professor John Cooley:
The forest is where they live. They are a part of the forest. Don’t try to kill them. Don’t try to spray insecticide, all that kind of thing. That’s just going to end badly because there are more than you could possibly kill with insecticide. You’d end up killing everything.
That probably applies just as well to many insects that so terrify us.
Reading list
Associated Press has the best explainer on cicadas. New York Times offers a good overview of the coming swarm—so does New Yorker but it's more essay-ish. NPR has more on cicadas as a culinary delight. BBC News looks at the emergence—how and when it happens. Discover magazine has more on the weird shit cicadas do when they’re out and about—like shooting streams of pee. Wired and Vox have lots more on how they contribute to the food cycle.
