Periodical Cicadas

(Cover image is from Katja Schulz via Xerces)

Our first crowd-sourced creature rec comes from @Caitlin Kotula, haver of a beautiful cicada tattoo. I decided to focus on periodical cicadas, because that’s usually what we’re thinking about, and they’re just really cool. There are also annual cicadas and protoperiodical cicadas, according to my new favorite website, cicadamania.com. Let’s all get cicada mania together! 

So periodical cicadas are very unusual in that they have these special periodical life cycles. They live 13 or 17 years underground (depending on the species), and then, at the very end of their lives, they come up above ground to, as Deborah Landau (writing for The Nature Conservancy) puts it, “transform, reproduce and ultimately die over the space of just a few days.” They come up out of the ground as nymphs, and then they molt, shedding their shells and growing wings. Landau says they are “most vulnerable right after shedding their shells,” but after 30 minutes they harden up. (Reminds me of this amazing Mitski song). 

Here’s a video from the Nature Conservancy and Deborah Landau, my new favorite ecologist.

Landau is very clear that the cicadas are NOT hibernating during their time underground. They are living full little (actually quite long) cicada lives. While underground, they’re drinking from the roots of deciduous trees, the same trees they will later lay their eggs on and fertilize with their bodies. They’re also harmless and good for the planet: they aerate the soil with their exit holes, and their bodies decompose and fertilize the soil around their trees, ultimately feeding the next generation. The National Wildlife Federation also points out that they “prune mature trees.” Lots of creatures eat them (including dogs and cats and sometimes people). But as Landau points out, they emerge in such large numbers (“the great emergence”) that predators can’t really make a dent. They have “no natural inclination” to escape predators, which also explains why they aren’t afraid of humans. 

A 2024 blog entry from Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation by Sebastian Echeverri (partially titled “Loud Bug Summer,” bc obviously) points out that 2024 was a big summer for cicadas because two different broods (one 13-year, one 17-year) emerged at the same time. Echeverri writes, “This incredible spectacle only happens every 221 years!”, which makes it sound like some kind of eclipse. The blog entry includes a picture breaking down various cicada broods, which are labeled using Roman numerals, as well as a fascinating image of them molting. 

(From USDA Forest Service)

(From G. Edward Johnson)

Echeverri also explains that the organ male cicadas use to make sound is called a tymbal. It produces a click, but “cicadas make this sound over and over so rapidly that we hear it as a constant hum.” Female cicadas don’t have this organ, but they do click their wings. The Xerces blog ends with cicada haikus by Xerces staff, in case you thought we weren’t doing poetry anymore. 

Cicadamania.com also mentions that you can use iNaturalist (recently recommended on Rec League by @Gabriela Wilson) to report stragglers from past broods in 2026. There are no full cicada broods this year, but Landau/the Nature Conservancy say the next ones are due in 2027 in Louisiana and Mississipi. 

Yet another source from Purdue (which focuses on Indiana cicadas, naturally), suggests “making a cicada friend.” Basically, if you snap your fingers, you can mimic female cicada wing clicks and seduce a male cicada into following you around. They link to this video from Rec League favorite David Attenborough, which is typically wonderful and also includes Attenborough snapping at a cicada until it lands on his face, during which he remains dignified.

Finally (whoops these are getting successively longer), I remembered reading a 2024 NPR story about a zombie cicada sex fungus (that also makes them high?) and had to refresh my memory. Fair warning, it’s gross/sad. 

Metaphor corner:
There isn’t a famous poem for every creature, but I figure we can always find some symbolism. There are so many life lessons we can get from these little guys! There’s the fact that they spend the vast majority of their lives underground, active but invisible those of us up above. Nice to remember that maybe hyper-visible productivity isn’t the only way to live a meaningful life. And then, at the very end of their lives, they go through this remarkable emergence and transition — they literally grow wings! I think that’s a useful lesson for a culture that treats aging like the absolute end of the world. They also protect themselves by syncing up and emerging in large numbers — very community-oriented, very “we keep us safe.” Smart guys!

Thank you Caitlin!