Tag: insects

Sing, Mate, Die: The 2024 Cicadas Rally

Posted on by Mark Harvey

by Mark Harvey

“…they came out of little holes in the ground, and did eat up the green things, and made such a constant yelling noise as made the woods ring of them, and ready to deafen the hearers…” —William Bradford, Massachusetts, 1633

Cicada

If you missed the totality last month when the moon fully obscured the sun and can’t wait until August 23, 2044, for the next total solar eclipse, don’t despair. There are still some very good reasons to rent a strange Airbnb in a strange county you’ve never visited to witness another rare event in nature: the emergence of a trillion cicadas. If you’re inclined to get the best seats for this event, you might want to start looking at flights to Illinois and Iowa, where the bugs will really take over.

For those who don’t follow cicadas, this year we’re seeing what amounts to a Sturgis rally or Woodstock for insects: a hell of a lot of showing off, really loud music, lots of sex, and truly living for the moment. Periodical cicadas, as they’re called, live underground as nymphs for years, and then spend only a few weeks above ground as adults after they’ve emerged to mate. There are two types of periodical cicadas, one which emerges every thirteen years, and one which emerges every seventeen years. What’s exciting this year—if you’re an entomologist—is that two adjacent broods, one from the seventeen-year gang and one from the thirteeners, have synched up so they are both emerging the same year. The last time this happened was in 1803.

This being America, there’s even a clumsy portmanteau to describe making a special trip to hear the insects: cicada-cation. Read more »



Monday, April 11, 2022

Phenology and the Rites of Spring

Posted on by Mark Harvey

by Mark Harvey

Out of the blue, between the sea and the sky,
Landward blown on bright, untiring wings;
Out of the South I fly –Maurice Thompson

Red-Tailed Hawk

One of my sisters who is a wildlife biologist often leaves the cinema with an entirely different take on the virtues of any particular movie if it’s set on a natural landscape. Be it an epic love story on the plains of Montana or a character-driven film taking place in the Cascade mountains of the northwest, she and her biologist friends see things through a different lens than you or I. While we might be moved by a love story between a cabin dweller scrapping out an existence while courting a fetching lass from an adjoining homestead, they often leave the same film frustrated and grouchy about how badly and unscientifically the natural world is cast.

“Did you hear that bald eagle?” They’ll say. “That’s not the sound a bald eagle makes! They obviously dubbed the call of a red-tailed hawk over that bald eagle. Who’s going to miss that?”

Well, about 99% of the audience still dabbing their eyes from the happy ending when the homesteaders requite their epic love on the epic landscape.

One thing that seems to really drive my sister and her biologist friends mad is when the director gets the phenology wrong. Phenology, to remind you, is the natural cycle and timing of nature. For example, every spring there is a certain pattern and time frame of flowers blooming, birds returning to the north, insects hatching, and bears coming out of hibernation. So when a film director has the male hero shyly offering flowers to his love interest in one scene and bodice busting in the next, my sister and her crew will cast a clinical eye on the Indian ricegrass and its development between scenes. Read more »

Monday, January 24, 2022

Insectophilia

Posted on by Ashutosh Jogalekar

by Ashutosh Jogalekar

An emerald green scarab beetle of the kind I used to collect (Image: Arizona Public Media)

From the age of eleven to the age of fifteen or so, my consummate interest in life was collecting insects and studying their behavior. In the single-minded pursuit of this activity I chose to ignore every ignominy, ranging from being chased by stray dogs and irate neighbors to enduring taunts hurled by my peers and disciplinary action meted out by teachers. Suffice it to say that I would have been the last boy to be asked on a date. The best thing was that none of this mattered in the least.

I don’t remember how it began, but I do know how it progressed. I vaguely recall a book, one of those craft books that taught kids how to build terrariums and enclosures. What I do remember well is that once the hobby took hold of my mind, it changed the way I saw the world. A new universe opened up. What might look ordinary to others – a patch of dusty brush by the side of a busy highway, the outskirts of a field where everyone else except me was playing soccer, and most notably, the hill close to our house which was a venue for vigorous workouts and hikes by seniors trying to stay fit – now teemed with insect life for me. That is what science does to your mind; it hijacks it, making you see things which everyone sees but notice things that very few do. Read more »