If you live in a one of the half dozen or so states that will be experiencing the emergence of 17 year Cicadas I have one thing to say to you: Don’t freak out. They don’t bite, they won’t take money out of your wallet, and they’re only around for a few weeks. That already makes them more tolerable than a teenager.
There is no reason to fear the Cicada. That’s not to say that they don’t have some less pleasant traits to be aware of. For starters, they pee, and they will pee on you. Walking under a brood-filled branch is like being on the front row for a Gallager show: You will get wet, and it will suck. Next, don’t woo them if you don’t want to wear them. Power tools and lawn mowers sound like Barry White’s crooning to Cicadas and should be used in the morning or evening when they are less active. They also may harm young trees and ornamental plants. The internet has no shortage of solutions for you if you have those concerns.
Instead of sprinting from your car to the door and wearing a beekeeper suit, I suggest you embrace the outbreak. Get a new pet for a few days, name him Carl, let him hang out on your finger and sing you sweet sweet Cicada love songs. Ok, maybe not. But one has to admire the life of a Cicada. They lay low underground and emerge every 13 or 17 years to “Sing, Fly, Mate, and Die” as the popular Nashville bumper stickers say. And for this, I love them. And I miss Carl (pictured above). ^RachelK