Perhaps I am strange to be excited by an insect... but I just can't help but stare in awe at how unusual and amazing a cicada is up close. It's been years, at least 6 years since I've seen one. It was on a camping trip at Sand banks beach, hanging out on the top of our tent. We noticed it when we took it down. The alien-like giant fly never seizes to captivate me in wonder. An insect that lives underground most of it's life ( between 7-17 years) living off the water from tree roots, surfaces for a few short weeks of freedom to mate, lay eggs, then die.It's rare to actually see them, but you can't mistake the sound of the male cicada singing high in the tree tops to attract the females. It's very high pitch, almost like the buzzing of an electrical appliance. Unmistakable.
So when Dave tapped on the window this evening for me to come outside, my first thought was that it must be that the toad has returned. The big fat jolly one that keeps activating the light sensor. I was mistaken. He lead me to the light, and when I looked up I saw it. A beautiful lovely cicada. My initial reaction was to pull up a chair to get a closer look, but I could not stop the urge to pick it up with my bare hands. As intimidating as they appear, they are the most harmless creatures. They do not bite or sting.
I let it crawl up and down my arm, fascinated by the picking feet on my skin.
It was like my inner fearless child coming out. Watching each of the bugs tiny steps, examining it's shape, it's body, and movement. It climbed right up to my neck, and we stared at each other eye to eye before it flew away into the dark night. How long will it be before I see the next one?
