Billions of cicadas will ascend upon the northeastern United States as another 17-year cycle concludesA cicada crawls from its shell at Hawk Mountain Sanctuary near Kempton, Pa., on June 5, 1996, after emerging from a 17-year, underground existence. (Bill Uhrich/Reading (Pa.) Eagle)The eighth biblical plague that tortured Egypt was a plague of locusts.
As described in Exodus 10:5, “And they shall cover the face of the earth, that one cannot be able to see the earth: and they shall eat the residue of that which is escaped, which remaineth unto you from the hail, and shall eat every tree which groweth for you out of the field.”
Flip the aforementioned “they” from locusts to cicadas, and that’s actually a pretty apt description of what residents in some parts of Ohio, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia will experience next month when the soil warms to 64 degrees and billions of cicadas rise from the ground to mate. Fortunately, cicadas can’t chew so they don’t devour our plants and trees. If they manage to avoid predators long enough they suck up plant sap but not enough to any real damage.
This particular group of insects has a 17-year-life cycle that begins underground and culminates in the air as they swell and swarm and scream and sing, issuing deafening cries as the males desperately seek mates. This current 17-year-cycle, which began in 1999, begins to end next month, reports Cicada Mania.
As billions of insects emerge, they can reach a density of 1.5 million cicadas an acre in some areas.
The insects have hard, sleek shells topped with two bulb-like, red eyes. On average, they’re a little over 1.5 inches in length and, don’t worry, they don’t bite or sting, according to the United States Department of Agriculture.
The adults live above ground for four to six weeks, and the only thing that interests them is mating and laying eggs (much like salmon during the famed salmon run).
But there’s the noise.
Oh, the noise.
Anyone who has experienced a swarm likely remembers the noise.
As David Snyder wrote in The Washington Post in 2004, “Words seem inadequate to describe that vaguely menacing hum-whistle that seems to be everywhere but emanates from no single place in particular.”
“It feels like an alien spaceship coming in,” Arlington resident Gene Miller told Snyder.
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