Word of “Brood X” cicada started making the rounds in Pennsylvania in early 2021, but it wasn’t until late May that I heard about it on the local news. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me, after all, we hear cicadas around our house every year. I can hear some outside as I type right now, the occasional rise and fall of their odd chirping chorus a contrast to the bird calls and squirrel rants. What was the big deal?
Every 17 years, Brood X makes itself known in the eastern US. It is one of 15 kinds of cicada that hatches every 17 years (the other hatches every 13), but what makes Brood X stand out is that it is the largest and most concentrated of the various broods, and we can trace this brood back to the Pilgrims in the 1630’s.
An early account of Brood X in Pennsylvania can be found in the 1715 journal of Rev. Andreas Sandel where he calls the cicada “singular flies” and said, “the english call them locusts.” He goes on to say, “…their noise made the cow-bells inaudible in the woods.”
The last batch hatched in 2004, just before we moved to PA, and I couldn’t remember ever having a problem with cicadas in New Hampshire growing up, so I was intrigued by them and hoped to see and hear them in my area. I only saw two on a walk in town, so that meant taking a drive to where they were known to be.
Brood X have golden wings, black bodies, and red-orange eyes. At least the ones I have seen do. Their lives are short and simple: they dig their way from their underground beds, throw away their exoskeleton, find a mate, lay eggs, and then die all within the span of a few weeks.
During those few weeks, they make some noise. A lot of noise.
We took a trip to Quakertown to visit the Q-mart where we’d heard the cicada were out in full force. Q-mart is surrounded by trees, the perfect place for the cicada to hang out. When we arrived, the weather was cool and overcast, so the noise was bearable. By the time we left, my ears were ringing.
Audio On!
It was a constant, high pitch sound like I had never heard before. The cicadas in my area (that I am listening to now) sing a bit and go quiet. Sing and go quiet. Brood X got into the groove and didn’t stop. I asked one of the outdoor flea market vendors how she could stand it, being out there all day. She laughed and said that it hadn’t been too bad until it warmed up, “but yesterday was almost unbearable.” As we spoke, we were both waving away the flying cicada, and as I walked down the aisle towards the main building, I had to stop short and duck and weave to avoid being a target.
Brood X is mostly harmless. I say mostly simply because of how much of a nuisance they are. Not just the sound, but the sheer number of them can make simple things a little more difficult. For example, when President Biden made his trip to the UK last month, the plane chartered for the reporters was delayed due to the cicadas, and one even landed on the President during an interview.
We didn’t hear any this past Saturday when we made another visit to Quakertown, so I suppose Brood X has returned underground for another 17 year sleep. I was disappointed, but I think the flea market vendors were relieved.
The next hatching will be in 2038.
Did anyone else have Brood X cicadas in their area?
Sources:
“A Trill of a Lifetime” by Susan Post
The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, vol 30 (Google Books)
“Cicadas were flying; for hours Biden’s press plane was not” by Seth Borenstein, AP News
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