Davidson Local's Guest Column: Cicada Songs by Kelly Carrick

Columnist Kelly Carrick marvels at the beauty of a Cicada and a 100 year old tree {Photo: Kelly Carrick}

As I pulled into my long gravel drive, I lowered my car windows and let some of what felt like summer inside. 

I took in the sights of the fields to my left and right, still being planted and plowed by my cousins and I listened to the gratifying crunch and crush of the gravel as it ran under my tires. Something about that day was unusual. There was a different tune for me to be lulled by. It was the call of the cicadas, raring and ready to go for what would be their grand emergence. 

Can you imagine waiting 17 years for your mate? Digging your way through soil and roots only to enjoy their company for a couple of weeks and then die. Who knows, that may not sound like a terrible fate for my husband or anyone who has had to live with me.

I understand that two different broods have made their way through the layers of earth this year. The XIII group and the XIX year troops.

 I’ve lost count of how often my radio dial, WFDD for those who wish to know, has given me interesting, academic and downright quirky knowledge about these broods. Being an NPR nerd pays off. For instance, in one interview a biologist mentioned cicadas as a “land cousin” to shrimp and he also stated that they are equally meaty. A few experts even shared what an adequate protein source the winged ones provide, following up with recipes that only an etymologist could love. I’ve always considered myself to have an adventurous palate and I do like crunch, but those eyes throw me off.

{Image: Stock} How adventurous are you when it comes to trying cicadas?

The hum of the cicadas was quite low at first, with just a few smacking the sides of trees and clumsily crawling across the tops of boxwoods, then slowly over a few days, the hum became louder. Meanwhile, as we endured the noise, our golden retriever Arlo was feasting on their crunchy carcasses, always looking like he regretted his life choices right after chomping down. Maybe they flutter in his mouth but he was committed as he dutifully swallowed.

One evening, a cicada made it into our den and we all tried to guess how long he would last until our four-legged friend turned it into a snack. It was my gut instinct to save the little bug, after all they aren’t here for a long time, they’re here for a good time. 

We can all be cumbersome and awkward, just like these bugs. We leave behind versions of ourselves, similar to the shell they cast off and we hopefully evolve. When our voices come together, we are a collective tour de force. 

It bears mentioning that the time cicada spend shuffling to the surface aerates the soil with the deceased bugs decay adding nutrients and richness to the soil. I wouldn’t want to be a young sapling because these guys tie a dinner napkin around their chunky thoraxes and the feast commences.

Biology should always be a circle, a cycle of seemingly endless give and take, with all the elements contributing something. Beyond what cicada do for the earth, these little creatures have also given me entertainment, a giggle or two and have fed my voracious curiosity. 

Today, as I was cupping a cicada in my hand with my hazel eyes staring down it’s beady red eyes, I thought about cicadas as a gift and remembered how cicadas mark time. 

Then I think we are both just thankful to be here, after all.

{Image: Stock}