Cicadas!

Another 'first' for Calvin was just a 'second' for his mom and dad. Cicadas are back this summer after hibernating for seventeen years.

If you haven't heard the symphonic serenade of these grasshopper-like bugs, it's really something. To me, it sounds like a siren off in the distance. With 1.5 million cicadas per acre, one is thankful for a distant sound.

I don't find them particularly bothersome, unless their clumsy flight lands them in my hair, but I'm a little put off by their red eyes.

Calvin has been mostly unaware of the multitude around him (there aren't many at our house), but he did find one on the ground and picked it up with no fear, just his standard curiosity.

This hasn't been a milestone for him, by any means, but since we won't see them in their multitudes for another seventeen years, I thought his first encounter should be documented.

Want some more info? Read all about it ....

Cicadas do not bite or sting, are benign to humans, and are not considered a pest. Many people around the world regularly complement their standard diet with cicadas: the female is prized for eating as it is meatier. Cicadas are employed in the traditional medicines of China and Japan for hearing-related matters.

After mating, the female cuts slits into the bark of a twig and deposits her eggs there. She may do so repeatedly, until she has laid several hundred eggs. When the eggs hatch, the newborn nymphs drop to the ground, where they burrow.

The insects spend most of the time that they are underground as nymphs at depths ranging from about 1 ft up to about 8½ ft. The nymphs feed on root juice and have strong front legs for digging. In the final stage, they construct an exit tunnel to the surface and emerge. They then moult (shed their skins), on a nearby plant for the last time and emerge as an adult. The abandoned skins remain, still clinging to the bark of trees.