Tag: Sturgis

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, October 20, 2014

7500 Miles, Part II: Dakota

Posted on by Akim Reinhardt

by Akim Reinhardt

Dusk at the BadlandsPart I of this essay appeared last month.

Thus continues my grand voyage, in which a rusty ‘98 Honda Accord shuttles me from one end of North America to the other and back again . . .

After stumbling half-way across the continent, I settled into the northern Great Plains for a spell. Determined to visit a variety of archives, I cris-crossed South Dakota to the tune of a thousand miles. It's a big state.

First I spent some time in the East River college towns of Vermillion and Brookings. A hop, skip, and a jump from the Minnesota border, this here is Prairie Home Companion country. It's a land of hot dishes (casseroles) and Lutheran churches. Of sprawling horizons and “Oh, ya know.”

There's lots of tall people. Lots of blond people. Lots of tall, blond people. I like it.

But after a week of researching and visiting old friends, I left behind the Scandinavian heritage and Minnesota-style niceties of eastern South Dakota. I made my way west across the Missouri River and then headed north. Actually, I crossed the line into North Dakota; Sitting Bull College on the Standing Rock Reservation is actually in the NoDak town of Fort Yates.

I'm happy to give the tribe some money, so I spent a night at the tribally owned Prairie Knights hotel and casino. I had a mind to play some poker, but when I went downstairs to investigate, I found the card room was already in the thick of a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament. So I bought a sandwich, returned to my room, and watch Derek Jeter's last game at Yankee Stadium.

After Standing Rock, the plan was to go straight down the gut of central South Dakota to Rosebud Reservation, which sits near the Nebraska border, and then westward to Pine Ridge Reservation in the state's southwestern corner.

If you were to plot my herky-jerky route across South Dakota, I suspect it would create an exciting new shape that mathematicians would get wide-eyed about. And then they'd come up with a cool name for this strange but essential new shape. Maybe something like an “akimus.” The akimus will shed new light on our understanding of trapezoids. And of course it will have some mysterious relationship to Pi.

I can imagine this because I haven't passed a math class since the 10th grade.

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