After thirteen long years of underground slumber, the Great Southern Brood has arisen, wreaking havoc in Tennessee and almost a dozen other southeastern states.  The only sounds louder than their unearthly calls are the shrieks of their victims.

Sounds like a zombie invasion, right?  Or maybe a scene from Deliverance?

We should be so lucky.  Right now, we are in the midst of a periodical cicada hatching.  (Although there always some cicadas around every summer, providing that quintessential summer night sound, periodical cicadas are a different species than their annual cousins.  And these cicadas are actually more active during the day.)  The last time we saw this group - also known as Brood XIX, the largest of the 13-year broods - was in 1998, a few weeks after the tornado that struck metropolitan Nashville.  A tornado followed by a plague of "locusts".  Honestly, I thought we were living out a book of the Old Testament that year.

All told, there are 15 broods of periodical cicadas (genus Magicicada) in the United States, three 13-year broods and twelve 17-year broods.  An entomologist named C.L. Marlatt established the brood system, and that, along with introducing the ladybug to the U.S., is what he is best known for.  I'm sure he was quite a fun person to be around and very popular at dinner parties.

If you are interested in seeing whether or not there are any cicada broods in your area, here is a handy map that shows where each brood is biding its time, waiting to make your life miserable.  (You folks any further west than Missouri or Iowa will just have to take my word for it.)

But seriously, even though cicadas are a bit of an annoyance, I am more fascinated than frightened or bothered.  I find their life cycle mysterious and, actually, a little tragic.

When this brood of nymphs first hatched and then burrowed underground, Bill Clinton was not having sex with that woman, the FDA approved Viagra (which Bill Clinton didn't appear to need), the Unabomber was sentenced to life in prison, Indonesia's President Suharto resigned, Titanic won the Oscar for best picture, the price of a gallon of gasoline was about $.99, and we lived rather innocently in a "pre-9/11" world.

I wonder how they knew that 13 years had passed, and it was time to emerge from their dark and damp underground home, where they had been sucking on tree roots.  Are they a part of some mass consciousness, responding to an ancient call that only they can hear?

When the nymphs dig their way out, leaving telltale holes in the ground, they immediately begin to climb the closest vertical surface, where they quickly shed their larval skins and unfurl their wings.  You'll see these molted skins all over the place, with small slits on the backs, stuck and frozen in time right where the adults emerged.

(For some reason, this one appears to have died in mid-molt.) 

(Saying goodbye to his former self.) 

This is when the mating frenzy begins, with the males singing their little cicada hearts out to attract the hottest females.  With a population density of 1.5 million per acre in some places (but actually closer to the tens or hundreds of thousands in most spots), you can imagine that the resulting sound is nearly deafening.  The cicada song has been measured at a level as high as 120 decibels, which is equivalent to the sound of a jet engine at 200 feet.  

Tree trunks and limbs are covered with these sexually crazed winged beasts, and they fly around as if in a daze, bumping willy-nilly into doors, windows, cars and people.  With their lethargic manner, it's kind of amazing that they can even find each other to get the deed done.  But when there are thousands upon thousands of eligible partners in such close proximity, it shouldn't take too long to bump into the cicada of one's dreams.  They are surely among the ugliest of all insects, but are basically harmless to people and animals.

(Kiss me!) 

After the males have passed along their genetic material and are satiated, they...die.  Carcasses start to pile up in random corners, littering streets, lawns, decks and carports.  Walking outdoors, especially under trees, isn't for the squeamish, as the "crunch-crunch" sound underfoot can be a little disconcerting.  I guess, when you're a cicada, love really is a battlefield.

The females have something called an "ovipositor", which is like a little cicada switchblade, that they use to make slits in the tender new growth of trees and shrubs.  This is where they lay their eggs, and it's generally the only damage that cicadas cause, as that new growth does tend to die off.  And then the females die as well.

This entire drama plays out in about six weeks, meaning that every cicada day above ground is roughly the equivalent of two human years!

After about 6-10 weeks, the eggs hatch and the new nymphs drop to the ground.  They burrow under the surface, where they'll spend the next thirteen years, at which time they will emerge and start the whole perplexing cycle all over again.  I wonder what kind of world will greet them?

I admit that contemplating it all makes me a little philosophical.  Aside from their years underground (which I don't think really count) these hapless creatures live out their entire lives in a mere month and a half.  Is there a point to their quite literal sound and fury?  Or is it a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing?

And as I approach my own half-century mark, I am asking the same question about my life.  Is there a point to this?  Or am I merely flying around clumsily, trying vainly (in all senses of that word) to make a lasting contribution?

In a few weeks, all will be silent again, and after that the nymphs will hatch and drop to the ground to begin their long hibernation.  Hopefully, I'll be around when this group makes its raucous debut in 2024.  Until then, I consider it a privilege to have witnessed this glorious phenomenon once again, and I continue to ponder the many unknowable things in this world.

(Magicicada, in all of its short-lived glory.)

Below is a short video, filmed in our backyard, of the sights and sounds of the 2011 cicada invasion...