I listen amused as friends recite imaginations of terror that the impending cicada invasion will surely incite. They see windshield wipers widely smearing cicada juice, obstructing their view and causing a massive highway pileup. They are certain the end of the cicada season will find them baldheaded, the only way to ensure that an errant insect will never become entangled in their hair. Seems to me that wearing protective head covering or not using your windshield wipers for large bug removal would be too obvious a solution. But I try to understand - most of us are fearful of that with which we are not familiar.

Just happens that I am comfortably familiar with these little critters. The familiarity becomes uncomfortable only about every 17 years. But to a child growing up in the country, they provided welcome entertainment. Of course, we erroneously called them 'locusts' - something I learned not so long ago. Each spring we would eagerly watch for the first sign of off-peak emergence - the small hole at the base of a tree. We knew the brown-shelled crawling baby couldn't be far away. It became a contest who could find the most. An empty shell was not a bad find, but catching one that we could watch hatch was a true treasure and in no way a terror. With respect we took care not to touch the hatchling's developing wings, knowing that it would soon fly into the trees to join the symphonic chorus.

Sounds a bit idyllic I'm sure. And I anticipate that at this point in my life I'll find their abundant presence a little less endearing and their incessant song an annoying serenade. But maybe not, for even as a grandmother watching her grandchildren's excitement, I'm a bit giddy with anticipation myself. Hence the following limericks.

Bait and Tackle
For days now you've caused me to wait
You're more than just fashionably late
Crawl up out of that hole
Or I'll throw in a mole
Do you want to become live bait?

First Kiss
Up through the earth you did bore
With lovelorn wings you did soar
Let me ask you this
About your first kiss
Was it a kiss to die for?

Soup's On!
Today I'm not feeling too well
A hot bowl of soup would be swell
I looked in my chowder
Then moaned all the louder
For there on my spoon was a shell

Smoothie
The skyline is filled with your kind
I think I am losing my mind
Let go of my clothes
Get off of my nose
Or else in my blender you'll grind

17 Year Itch
I hear the boys sing in the trees
The noise brings me to my knees
I'd venture to wager
A cicada teenager
Knows all 'bout the birds and the bees

Swan Song
Your song really makes quite a din
You surely don't think you can win
For with all of that crooning
You soon will be swooning
Leaving nothing behind but some kin

Unrequited Love
To all the males of the brood
Your public display is quite crude
If you've called and you've clamored
And they're still not enamored
Just maybe they're not in the mood

Romeo Wannabe
Oh Cicada with beady red eyes
It should come as no great big surprise
You make me quite queasy
Your love song is sleazy
And you're much too loud for your size

The Hitchhiker
Oh winged hitchhiker aflight
You do give me quite a fright
But if you fly in my car
You won't get very far
I'll swat you with all of my might

Driven to Distraction
Cicada, I don't care your gender
My thoughts toward you are not tender
When my car window's down
On my way around town
Please don't cause me a fender bender

Not-So-Prime Property
Cicada, remember your shell
It really has served you quite well
You left your old home place
To enter the love race
So is your old home place for sale?

Cruise Time
I know they are God's creation
Placed in the east of this nation
But when they emerge
I have a great urge
To go take an ocean vacation

Yum Yum
I just can't believe all the hype
The nymphs are just about ripe
One newscaster quipped
They're eating them dipped
That sounds 'bout as good as some tripe

The Who
Cicadas are flying, plant-sucking insects of the Order Hemiptera; their closest relatives are leafhoppers, treehoppers, and fulgoroids. Adult cicadas tend to be large (most are 25-50mm), with prominent wide-set eyes, short antennae, and clear wings held roof-like over the abdomen. Cicadas are probably best known for their conspicuous acoustic signals or "songs", which the males make using specialized structures called tymbals, found on the abdomen.

All but a few cicada species have multiple-year life cycles, most commonly 2-8 years (de Boer and Duffels 1996). In most species, adults can be found every year because the population is not developmentally synchronized; these are often called "annual" cicada species. In contrast, the cicadas in a periodical cicada population are synchronized, so that almost all of them mature into adults in the same year. The fact that periodical cicadas remain locked together in time is made even more amazing by their extremely long life-cycles of 13 or 17 years.

Periodical cicadas will emerge this spring in many parts of the eastern U.S. The last time this brood of cicadas emerged was 1987.

Periodical cicadas are characterized by their black bodies, bright red eyes, and amber wings with orange veins. There are three species of periodical cicadas, Magicicada septendecim, M. cassini, and M. septendecula

Differences in coloration can be seen on the underside of the abdomen. M. septendecim has broad bands of orange, while M. cassini is almost totally black. M. septendecula has narrow bands of orange.

The When
When they appear in late May, the 17-year cicadas known as Brood X will transform the environment, filling the air with their winged bodies and the days with sound.

"This is likely to be the biggest insect outbreak on Earth, and Bloomington is right in the center of it," said Keith Clay, an Indiana University biology professor and director of the IU Research and Teaching Preserve. "They're going to come out around May 25, plus or minus a few days. You can almost set your watch by it."