It's *possible* I'm a bit of a science geek

They're heeeeee-rrrrrrrrreeee!

What, you ask?

Why, the Great Southern Brood.

Also known as Brood XIX.

Also known as Brood XIX magicicada tredecim and magicicada neotredicim.


Also known as the 13-year periodic loudest summer you can imagine!

(If you're not a bug person.  You should look away.  Really.  Don't say I didn't warn you!)

It's time for 13-year CICADAS!

It's time for this:

Adult cicadas and left over husks after molting.

 And, this:

Cicadas covering a small pine tree.

'

And, this:

Adult cicada (on top) with empty husk of a nymph.

Throughout the Midwestern US, a 13-year brood of cicadas has been emerging from the ground over the past few weeks.  They just started coming out in my town last week.  For those who are in this area, or have experienced this in other areas, you know what I'm talking about.  Suddenly, no matter where you look, there are bugs EVERYWHERE.  At twilight, the brown nymphs start to emerge from the ground and climb until they find a nice leaf or tree branch or truck tire or brand new wood frame your husband has been building for hours or, if you stand still long enough, your leg.  They settle in for a bit and then slowly, over the course of half an hour or so, start to molt off their skin and emerge new and creamy white with bright red eyes and black spots.  They pump fluid into their wings until they are full and translucent and then hang out while their bodies harden and darken to black or orange-ish.  Give them several days and they start screaming (well, kinda) at each other as they mate.  We're talking millions around here or, reportedly, billions in the entire brood (which is spread across the Midwest and part of the South).  After the females lay eggs in tree branches, the eggs hatch, and the tiny white juveniles make their way back into the ground, dig around a bit and hang out for 13 years sucking on tree sap until they're ready to emerge again.

There are 13-year and 17-year species of these types of periodic cicadas but nothing in between.  Isn't that bizarre?  I just find that amazing.  The last time these guys were here was 1998.  I moved to the area in 2002, so this is the first time I've seen them.  They're truly fascinating.  (Now, they haven't started screaming en masse, yet, so we'll see how fascinating they are at that point.)  ETA: By the time I left my office today, they started "screaming" -- it's crazy loud but still fascinating!!

It's possible that my husband and I spent several hours watching them on Sunday.  And again on Monday.  It's possible that I took over 200 pictures.  It's possible that I sat in a really awkward position for over an hour watching one particular late emerging nymph slowly molt.  And, named him George.  And, took pictures.  (I think George was a "he."  I learned later how to identify male/female cicadas but I didn't get an "underside" view of George.  And, I now suspect he might be a she...)

George molting over about 45 minutes.

George's wings developing over about 15 minutes.

 

George's shell hardening over the course of an hour.

I was kind of sad when I realized George's wings weren't developing properly.  (I told my husband I'd love him anyway.)  There are quite a few hopping around with one or both wings that didn't quite develop.  They're more obvious because they can't fly to higher trees.  I don't know if they'll breed or not.  There's an IF connection in there somewhere, I'm sure.

Most of the cicadas come out of the ground at night and our fences and trees were covered in nymphs molting.  Here's what George's wings should have looked like.  Beautiful, isn't it?  (In a creepy bug kind of way, I realize...)

Newly emerged "teneral" cicada.

Anyway, it's been a fun distraction.

Anyone else out there being bombarded by bugs?