Backseat - From Where I Sit

June 2004

By: Michelle

Cicadas On The Brain

“Boots?” – check. “Long pants?” – check. “Do-Rag?” - check. You would think such preparations meant that a ride was in my future. Unfortunately, that’s far from the case. In fact, I am on a cicada-induced motorcycle riding ban. Before you label me as a wimp, let me share a bit of my daily life as it relates to these red-eyed, red-veiny-winged, dig-your-spiney-velcro-like-claws-into-anything-that-passes (especially the backs of unsuspecting victims), fly-till-you-hit-something-and-hope-you-land-upright, die-abruptly-and-drop-like-a-stone-on-the-nearest-heavily-traveled-footpath, if-you-come-near-me-I-will-buzz-at-you-till-you-leave (works great if the enemy is a squeamish woman – not so well if you are trying to scare a squirrel who wants to eat you), annoying little bugs that have invaded northern Virginia.

Initially, I envisioned a menacing bug of plague-like proportions. The red eyes gave them a somewhat demonic appearance. However, after a few weeks of living with these buggers, I realize that the red eyes literally mean that “the light is on but nobody is home”. These guys are truly the Forrest Gumps of the bug world. After all, their sole method of survival is to hide underground for 17 years only to emerge in numbers so great that their predators would eventually get too full to eat them all. I am no military expert, but I don’t think that is a very good line of defense.

I suppose I am not being very fair but they aren’t very endearing creatures. Their first problem is that they are bugs. Some bugs can overcome this by being cute like an inch worm or having charm like a lightening bug but hanging out in the dirt most of your life, doesn’t leave a lot of room to develop a personality nor does it leave a lot of opportunity for an education. Actually, they seem to have a hard time deciding whether they are alive or not. Just the other day, Kent saw the front half of a cicada (I suppose the bird ate the “good” half) that was still trying to crawl. I saw one covered in raindrops sitting on my car. I thought it was dead but to my surprise it moved. Yep, it was too stupid to come in out of the rain. I have watched them fly one second and drop dead the next - right in mid-flight. Apparently, they aren’t even smart enough to feel death coming on.

I attempted to find something good about the current phenomenon. If I can’t enjoy my first hobby of motorcycle riding, maybe I can find a way to enjoy them with my second hobby – fishing. Something that juicy had to be good bait. Kent caught about 20 or 30 of them, threw them in a bait box and we were off to the river. They basically died before I reeled in the first cast. Needless to say they didn’t have enough umph to attract a single fish. We gave up after the 4th or 5th try and Kent dumped the remaining cicadas out in the river. Most of them landed on their backs. We thought they would flap their wings – something they were pretty good at and get out of there. Apparently being upside down really confused them. They flapped for about 2 seconds and just gave up and let the river carry them away. I wasn’t sure if I should feel sorry for them or not.

You would think that I would have nothing to fear from a creature this stupid. That’s where they have most people fooled. You see in life they are really dumb but they get their revenge in their kamikaze deaths. You never know which ones of the little suckers are going to bounce and which ones are going to squish. I have watched them do both numerous times on my car windshield and until I can figure out a way to differentiate between the two I am not setting one foot on the motorcycle. In fact for the next few weeks, I am basing every outside activity on a “cicada-factor rating” that I am currently developing.

Scientist tell us we should marvel at the “wonder” of nature. Well, I do. I “wonder” when I will be able to wear open-toed shoes again without worrying about stepping on bug carcasses. I “wonder” when I can wear skirts again without worrying about a cicada flying up to the most embarrassing place it can reach and latching its spindly legs on for dear life. I “wonder” when I will be able to let my hair down again and not worry about a cicada trying to lay eggs on my scalp. Not that I am obsessing. I just have cicadas on my mind - and everywhere else for that matter …

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