Just when COVID news had become tiresome, along came the cicadas. And just like that, cicada news became tiresome. I was satiated quickly. Enough!!
And then I met a Brood X cicada who spoke English. She agreed to an interview with The Devil’s Gift.
How are you?
Not bad, considering my days are numbered and every bird, mouse, squirrel, snake, dog, and cat in your yard wants to eat me—that, plus a horde of horny teenage males are itching to copulate.
YIKES. Guess you’re on edge constantly.
Well, that’s pretty much the nature of nature—the “hungries” and the “hornies.” You take care of one, and then you take care of the other. Humans are lucky. You have a little time in between for a book or baseball. But for me, I’m pretty much screwed—dead in either case.
Life seems so meaningless.
Not so. Life, no matter how brief, is a miracle. It’s a privilege to be included in such an awesome world, even for just a few moments. It’s not that we deserve it. But we take it. Gratefully. Yes, life is short, we say. So live it to the hilt. Sing loud. It’s a big world.
I like your philosophy.
When you have 17 years to brood in a deep, dank, dark hole and then realize that your days of freedom are two score and ten at the most, it concentrates the mind. You learn what’s important fast. So yes: Be here now. Be somewhere else later. Is that so hard? Haven’t you figured that out for yourself?
Still working on it.
Well, blow up your TV, throw anyway the papers, and kill those damn lawnmowers that sound like mating calls on steroids. We horny ladies swarm to them like moths to a candle—and for what?
Good point.
Any more questions? I’m running out of time.
Yes, one more. How did you learn to speak English?
Brood X breeds only in American soil. We don’t breed in France, for instance. So it would be a lot harder to learn French.
That makes sense. But the fact that you speak any language at all is surprising.
Ever heard of Charles Darwin? Given enough time and mutations, anything’s possible. Apes can turn into humans, and humans can turn into jerks.
What do you mean by that?!
She didn’t answer. She’d flown off.
Her heart a-flutter.
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See Paula’s photo “Redbud Sunset” on the home page. Posted May 9.
Thanks to your evolved communication skills, I will be listening to nature’s current symphony with open ears. Your articulate, wise cicada reminds me of the talking monkey in Haruki Murakami’s book of short stories, “First Person Singular.” In the first story, however, it’s a mysterious old man who tells the young narrator how to calm down and enjoy the best of life. All you have to do, the sage says, is imagine a circle–a circle with many centers and no circumference. I’m trying, and getting nowhere. Which may be the point.
I have enjoyed the cicadas so far. I was kind of excited when I saw my first one. They are amazing to look at – the colors, the patterns – the eyes. They don’t bite – they are far less annoying than gnats – they don’t eat my tomato plants. And they do sing – interesting to note how they prefer certain trees – and how weather affects their singing. So far, so good. I can hardly wait for 2038.
YES!! That says it all!! Blessed Be!! Sing on🎶🌈
People says that I have more cicadas than anyone. Popular! At last, I am popular!
Hah! Swarming into lawnmower blades for the sake of love. An epic theme at both the insect and human levels.
Your interview with the cicada makes me enjoy them even more. Thank you
Good one! I wrote this little poem:
In the Year of the Cicada
They mark our short spans on Earth with their songs:
I am 17, I am 34, I am 51——
I cherish each song like the passing of a comet
or a total eclipse of the sun.
Who turns the pages of their cosmic calendar?
Do the trees count the moons and pass the message down
to the subterranean rooms where no light penetrates,
where their roots wet-nurse these alien babes
for so long that perhaps they delight in their company?
Who gives the signal, “It’s time!”
to claw upward and return
to the years-ago abandoned sun
to burst from crusty brown shell
now winged, to sing !
-Claire Stuart
I love that you can interview a cicada and do it so fairly and squarely. And I love Claire Stuart’s poem; I have copied it to print it out, it’s so inspiring and beautiful. Thank you both.
Re Steve…the things we do for love! I didn’t realize that lawnmowers were an issue.
Years ago – late 80s I remember cicada craziness in DC. Bus drivers valiantly steering with the critters coming in a window. And it was gloriously noisy! Not so many up here in upstate NY but we do have some. Enjoying nature watching the grackles fish for shiners – little bait fish. Waiting for the monarchs later in summer.
Isn’t the cicada a quintessential creature to help us marvel at Mystery? No rhyme or reason for this massive chorus’ strange life cycle and existence. I love that!