Cicada Follies
I had planned to call this entry “Cicada Watch” since I have yet to find a cicada in our neighborhood (and believe me, I am not complaining), but since going on my walking break this morning, things have changed a bit.
I met up with Anne and Maggie as I do every morning at 9:30 and we headed out into the fresh, warm air. We stumbled upon some cicadas on the sidewalk and I decided to take their picture.
They appear to be stuck together, like you see dogs sometimes in the heat of summer and you can’t separate them, even with a hose. Maybe I should be blurring part of this photograph… or putting a black censor bar across it…
We walked to the corner to wait for our other walking partners, Amy and Barb, and while we waited we watched the cicadas that were surrounding us everywhere. I was laughing because the wind is so severe today that the cicadas could barely fly. I mean, they aren’t the best at flying anyway, almost as if they’re drunk, but today it was even worse. They were almost suspended in midair because the wind was holding them back.
Keep laughing, Kath.
As Amy and Barb joined us, I noticed that Barb flicked something off of my leg. It was a cicada. I was frozen in place, but didn’t make a sound. I’ve decided to vote Barb as our group leader. I don’t think anyone will revolt against this decision.
We start our walk and there are cicadas everywhere. Carcasses all over the sidewalks, all over the street – you can’t avoid them. I know I’ve said that I wanted to try and live in peace with the cicadas this year, and I really want to, as long as they stay off of me. They seem to sit on the sidewalk all quiet and still, and as soon as you walk by they fly up at you and the freak out dance begins – limbs flailing and sounds coming from your mouth that you’ve never heard before. Is that me?
On with the walk. Barb, our fearless leader, walked ahead of the group. We all made a pact to watch each other’s back in case a cicada landed on us. Next thing we knew, there was a cicada on the back of Anne’s neck, and it was on its way down her shirt. With her bare hand, Barb brushed the cicada away and all was good. We continued to walk through what we now call Cicada Row.
It was a rough walk. Dodging drunkenly flying cicadas takes a lot out of you. Amy decided she’d had enough and searched for a weapon. She found a broken tree branch on the parkway and we each broke off a piece. Well, four out of the five of us carried a weapon. Barb, our fearless leader, was fine without one. We must have looked like a circus sideshow – Barb, walking so calmly in front of us leading the way, and the rest of us jumping and darting and flailing and yelping… and we were the ones with the sticks! At one point, Amy thought there was a cicada on her leg and she began beating herself with her own stick. It was quite a site to see.
We made it to the beach just fine, but we didn’t stay long because the fierce wind blew sand in our faces and we turned around immediately to walk back to work. Now we weren’t only going to battle the cicadas on the way back, but we had to do it with sand in our eyes (and our hair, and caked on our skin because of the sweat). But we are warriors, so we were ready for battle. We had our weapons, now referred to as our cicada sticks, and, after all, the first half of the walk wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. We decided to stroll down a dead end side street to look at the beautiful houses we can’t afford to pay attention in.
Then… it happened. I felt something hit my upper right arm and I turned to look. All I could see was a gigantic black blur and enormous red beady eyes. I heard a blood curdling scream come from somewhere (was it me?) and I froze. I stood there frozen on the street with my arms stuck out behind me, my head leaning back and my mouth… yes, it was me screaming. It seemed to be forever before Amy saved me with her cicada stick and knocked the beast from my body. It all seemed to go in slow motion, but I was so thankful she was there. We were laughing and crying all the way to the end of the road.
We came upon a random yellow polka-dotted cow in someone’s yard.
We walked to the corner to wait for our other walking partners, Amy and Barb, and while we waited we watched the cicadas that were surrounding us everywhere. I was laughing because the wind is so severe today that the cicadas could barely fly. I mean, they aren’t the best at flying anyway, almost as if they’re drunk, but today it was even worse. They were almost suspended in midair because the wind was holding them back.
Keep laughing, Kath.
As Amy and Barb joined us, I noticed that Barb flicked something off of my leg. It was a cicada. I was frozen in place, but didn’t make a sound. I’ve decided to vote Barb as our group leader. I don’t think anyone will revolt against this decision.
We start our walk and there are cicadas everywhere. Carcasses all over the sidewalks, all over the street – you can’t avoid them. I know I’ve said that I wanted to try and live in peace with the cicadas this year, and I really want to, as long as they stay off of me. They seem to sit on the sidewalk all quiet and still, and as soon as you walk by they fly up at you and the freak out dance begins – limbs flailing and sounds coming from your mouth that you’ve never heard before. Is that me?
On with the walk. Barb, our fearless leader, walked ahead of the group. We all made a pact to watch each other’s back in case a cicada landed on us. Next thing we knew, there was a cicada on the back of Anne’s neck, and it was on its way down her shirt. With her bare hand, Barb brushed the cicada away and all was good. We continued to walk through what we now call Cicada Row.
It was a rough walk. Dodging drunkenly flying cicadas takes a lot out of you. Amy decided she’d had enough and searched for a weapon. She found a broken tree branch on the parkway and we each broke off a piece. Well, four out of the five of us carried a weapon. Barb, our fearless leader, was fine without one. We must have looked like a circus sideshow – Barb, walking so calmly in front of us leading the way, and the rest of us jumping and darting and flailing and yelping… and we were the ones with the sticks! At one point, Amy thought there was a cicada on her leg and she began beating herself with her own stick. It was quite a site to see.
We made it to the beach just fine, but we didn’t stay long because the fierce wind blew sand in our faces and we turned around immediately to walk back to work. Now we weren’t only going to battle the cicadas on the way back, but we had to do it with sand in our eyes (and our hair, and caked on our skin because of the sweat). But we are warriors, so we were ready for battle. We had our weapons, now referred to as our cicada sticks, and, after all, the first half of the walk wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. We decided to stroll down a dead end side street to look at the beautiful houses we can’t afford to pay attention in.
Then… it happened. I felt something hit my upper right arm and I turned to look. All I could see was a gigantic black blur and enormous red beady eyes. I heard a blood curdling scream come from somewhere (was it me?) and I froze. I stood there frozen on the street with my arms stuck out behind me, my head leaning back and my mouth… yes, it was me screaming. It seemed to be forever before Amy saved me with her cicada stick and knocked the beast from my body. It all seemed to go in slow motion, but I was so thankful she was there. We were laughing and crying all the way to the end of the road.
We came upon a random yellow polka-dotted cow in someone’s yard.
We headed out from the beautiful dead end area to go back to work, still laughing and crying from my comic relief performance. Almost to the end of the street, I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted a cicada on my pants. Somehow I managed to save myself, using my own cicada stick to flick it off, and only making mild, panicked sounds that went something like, “ee ee aah aah.” What am I, a monkey?
We managed to make it most of the way back without any further incidents, until a cicada flew into Maggie’s chest. She began to do the freak out dance I know so well, but she added her own little twist. “Is it in my hair?” she yelped, panic-stricken. At this point, no one could stop laughing at our event-filled walk, even as we tried to convince her that we witnessed the cicada fall to the ground after it hit her. It is at this point that Maggie begins batting practice with her cicada stick, pretending to knock them out of the park in several violent motions.
Barb thought it would be funny if she ran her finger down my back as we got closer to school. I must be getting better because I didn’t scream, but I did freeze in my spot with my arms straight out. I realized then that I had been clenching my cicada stick so hard that I could no longer open my fingers to release it. Amy didn’t know what Barb had done so Anne decided to demonstrate, running her finger down Amy’s back. Amy then screamed bloody murder and we burst into fits of laughter again.
Back at school I decided to take one last picture. Who would have thought that insects so harmless could cause such emotional stress?
We managed to make it most of the way back without any further incidents, until a cicada flew into Maggie’s chest. She began to do the freak out dance I know so well, but she added her own little twist. “Is it in my hair?” she yelped, panic-stricken. At this point, no one could stop laughing at our event-filled walk, even as we tried to convince her that we witnessed the cicada fall to the ground after it hit her. It is at this point that Maggie begins batting practice with her cicada stick, pretending to knock them out of the park in several violent motions.
Barb thought it would be funny if she ran her finger down my back as we got closer to school. I must be getting better because I didn’t scream, but I did freeze in my spot with my arms straight out. I realized then that I had been clenching my cicada stick so hard that I could no longer open my fingers to release it. Amy didn’t know what Barb had done so Anne decided to demonstrate, running her finger down Amy’s back. Amy then screamed bloody murder and we burst into fits of laughter again.
Back at school I decided to take one last picture. Who would have thought that insects so harmless could cause such emotional stress?
"Aren't we cute?"
Here is my cicada stick, which I have saved for tomorrow’s walk. (Don’t worry – we only used them to flick the cicadas off of us – we did not play cicada baseball or anything like that.)While cooling off in my office (between the heat, the regular sweating, and the panic sweating, I felt pretty gross), I sent the cicada pictures to my walking group. Amy emailed us all back, saying I forgot the most important picture. And here it is:
At first glance, I thought it was a random cartoon she found on the Internet. Then details started to pop out at me… the stick in my hand, red shirt, blue pants, sandals… the hair! The bug with the big beady red eyes on my arm… When I realized what it really was, I burst out laughing and accidentally spit my cereal all over the computer screen. (Amy created this in Paint, if anyone is interested.) You’ll notice it’s an exact reenactment of my cicada meltdown.
Don’t I look like a South Park character?
Disclaimer: No cicadas were hurt, injured or killed on this fun-filled nature walk.
© Kathleen Strelow 2007
posted by The Whiplash Files @ 12:34 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Too, too funny, Kathy! Glad we don't have them down here, or do we? I don't know. I try very hard NOT to go outside. I hear they have sunscreen and insect repellent to protect us from the ravages of sun and bugs, but I'm not taking any chances.
Down here, all we have are love bugs. Yeah, and just as the name implies they are hopelessly, shamelessly in love. They are referred to as the Airline Bugs, they fly United.They take the paint off your cars, they muck up your windshield,and if they can do that to a car, just imagine what the little beggars could do to your hair and your face! Yuck-o!
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