Bugging Out

Standing in the Target parking lot this week, I couldn't figure out what the noise was. It sounded like the flying saucers in those old B-movies from the 1950s.

Then I remembered Chris saying they sounded like the Star Trek phasers, and I realized what they were...

CICADAS!

After 17 years of hanging out below the surface of the earth, they've risen to make a nuisance of themselves.

Driving up the freeway after work, they pinged my car like little scuds, decorating my windscreen with bug guts. Washer fluid didn't cut it. Only a thunderstorm with massive amounts of rain removed the remains.

The last time the critters emerged en masse was 1999. I don't remember much about that time. Or about 1982. But I do remember 1965.

The street of my childhood was canopied in the summer by giant maple trees. The cicadas loved hanging out in them. I have vivid memories of riding my bike down the street and being terrorized by the flying menaces. And the added bonus of the sound effects made by their shells...crunch, crunch, crunch. I had nightmares for weeks.

This year, I haven't seen or heard any in my neighborhood. It seems to be an all-or-nothing proposition. Some folks report mass sightings in their yard, while others have seen none. I have witnessed a few -- and their shells -- in the parking lot at work.

MetroParks' social media has been positively giddy over them. I had signed up for their Instagram posts, but then decided to un-follow, after receiving photo after graphic photo of the mini-beasts. One was a gif that showed them in action. Nature is a wondrous thing, but I'm not all about bugs, and I don't need to see them up-close-and-personal -- unless they are butterflies. Butterflies are cool.

Before we know it, the cicadas will be history, and we'll all settle down and forget about them for another 17 years.

I'm ready.