Frequencies of a Cicada

Music To My Ears

I was going to do an article on the sounds of cicadas, but changed my mind.

Every morning, when I take Jolene out to brush her, I have an opportunity to sit on my porch and listen to the morning nature calls.  Usually bird-song is the most prevalent morning sound that comes into my awareness because of the nice number of birds in my neighborhood, and sometimes my neighbors are taking control of the airwaves with their leaf blowers and lawn mowers because, well, my neighbors are trying to irritate me.

It's August now, and the cicadas are buzzing in volumes that overtakes anything else that might try announce themselves before noon.  And I find it relaxing.

I figured there was a reason that cicadas exist, come out every summer, and relax the human population within earshot, so I investigated the frequency at which they vibrate - 123 hertz. 

Apparently cicada song is most important to other cicadas; the males are calling to the females.

But I did find out that 123Hz affects us too.  I found a chart that says it affects Pyoderma and Influenza.  This information wasn't helpful to me.  I looked up Pyoderma: skin disease.  Maybe singing cicadas cure acne.

When you play B2 with a bassoon the frequency is 123Hz.

When your subwoofer vibrates with 123 Hz it irritates you.

Certain tree frogs sing higher at around 123 Hz to compensate for traffic noise.  After all, they want those female frogs to hear them.

I also found out that if you held a singing cicada next to your ear, you could damage your hearing.  So, don't do that.

So far none of this was what I was looking for, so I changed my search to information about the cicada  and it's symbolism.  This was a bit more interesting.

Because of it's ability to reemerge from the ground and shed it's shell to fly, it's a symbol for resurrection and reincarnation in Japan and China.   The Greek lover of the goddess of Dawn, Tithonus, was granted immortality but not eternal youth, so he got older and weaker with time until all that was left of him was his voice.  He is now a cicada.  In the case of the 7 year cicada, it's numerology symbolism signifies a great imagination and ability to manifest with conscious thought.

Cicadas come out during the hottest days of the summer.  Since this corresponds with the sun being at the center of our lives, they are part of the sun-sign and bring to light our ability to connect and harmonize with our family and neighbors.  Since some of them take their time coming up from the earth,  (some lay dormant for 17 years!) they can bring to mind timing, patience, longevity, and the rhythm of nature.

There are about 2500 species of cicadas around the world.  Cicadas have five eyes and can see very well, but their cellular memories are so old, whatever they see looks like a tree to them.  So don't take it personally when they try to land on you.  Like aphids, they live on tree sap and water, so they do no harm to us or our gardens unless the females lay too many eggs and damage young plants.  It seems their main role on this planet is to breed, multiply, and be food to any who dares to eat them.  While underground they aerate the soil and promote tree growth.  They offer themselves to us as a gift and we reward them by running away screaming - we seem to judge ugly, noisy things as harmful.  Shame on us.

There is a genus of cicadas that include 7 species called Magicicada, a name I love.  They include the 13 year and 17 year brood.  They come out in such great numbers, in the millions sometimes,  to survive the feeding frenzy that ensues.  Their predator's tummies fill up way before their numbers dwindle, giving them a chance to mate and go back to ground and wait for the next cycle of rebirth.

For years researchers have sought to explain how the Magicicada life cycles developed and what the significance of the prime numbers (13 year and 17 year) might mean. 

The long underground life span seems to have started 20,000 years ago, during the last glacial period.  The Magicicada may have developed an ability to wait until the warm weather signaled safety for an emergence, leading to a change in their genetic makeup.  A theory about the prime numbers has something to do with Nature's way to keep cross breeding with other cicadas to a minimum.  There is a great article here, on ScientificAmerican.com that could tell you more.

I tried and tried and found no esoteric information on how cicadas affect us and why they keep coming back every year.  All I could do is theorize that there's a message that we're not getting, so they'll keep singing to us until we get it.  They've been trying for thousands of years and are very patient with us, and I hope they never give up.  

So forget about the article.  I think I'll just go outside and listen to my magic cicadas.  Someday I'll figure it out.

Really?

Oy, Oy, Oy, Oy, Oy!

My morning started normally enough.

After I fed the dog, fed the outdoor birds and fed the indoor bird, I loaded the indoor bird onto her perch and took my breakfast to the couch where I happily ate my scrambled eggs and drank my coffee as I watched my morning talk shows.

I pulled out my laptop and started checking my mail.  Jolene camped out next to me on the couch to wait for lunch time.  So far it was a nice relaxed morning.

2 hours later I had to pee.  This meant I had to get up off the couch and go upstairs.  It was the perfect opportunity to turn everything off and get ready to go grocery shopping.

I closed my laptop, gathered my dishes and got up.  Jolene knew it was time to go and jumped off the couch to wait for me.  First I had to get the bird so she could go back into her cage, which can be a challenge, but we had a routine that made it easy. 

I grabbed a sunflower seed and asked her to come to momma.  Thankfully, she came without me having to coerce her with more seeds.  Sometimes she decides she needs a little more time and I have to be patient with her.  There's no hurrying a bird, especially a temperamental bird like mine.  Once she was on my arm I grabbed my dishes and turned off the lights and three of us went upstairs to the kitchen.

Boy, I really had to pee - but first I had to put the dishes in the sink.  Then I took the bird to the front door - this was part of our routine.  As she waited patiently on my shoulder I attached the suction cup perch on the glass of the door and tried to lure her onto it with a couple of sunflower seeds, but she wanted to show her appreciation first and cuddle with my cheek.  I tried not to dance the "full bladder" dance, pretended to appreciate her appreciation because I wanted to encourage her attempts at being nice to me, and after a couple of trying minutes (trying my patience, trying my bladder) I was able to get her off my shoulder and safely on the perch.  Then I opened the door a couple of inches to get the mail out of the mailbox that was right outside on the wall. Once I retrieved the mail I closed and locked the door against any accidental openings and letting the bird out of the house.  Even with clipped wings my bird can fly.

We did this so that I could have some time to take her dish of prepared fruit and veggies out of the fridge and put it in her cage.  If I did it before she went back to her cage she wouldn't get territorial and try to bite me.  So after I sorted the mail I went into the kitchen to get her dish.

Now, I was fighting the clock.  If I went to the bathroom first it would take too long; the bird would get antsy and fly to the top of her cage before I was ready, and it would be tricky getting her in it.  I could wait until she went in to eat, then close the door, but in my mind that was another battle I didn't have time to deal with and couldn't wait for her.  So I concentrated on holding my water and went straight to the fridge and got the dish out.

While I was there, I took out the food for the dog.  The plan was I'd put the bird food in the cage, get the bird safely inside, go to the bathroom and then feed the dog.

Well.

I put the bird's dish in her cage and went to the front door.  Good, she was being patient with me today.  I lured her back to my arm with another sunflower seed, then noticed there was an almond shell on the floor.  As I decided it was there because Jolene left it there, I bent down to pick it up.  I couldn't risk Jolene trying to swallow it.  I reached for it just as Jolene showed up - we raced to see who'd get it first.  I did.

Suddenly my hand was covered with ants.  Crap!

I instinctively dropped the almond.  Jolene instinctively grabbed it.  The bird instinctively hung on for dear life as I grappled with the dog to get the stupid almond shell out of her mouth.

OMG, my bladder will explode any second now.

I'm yelling at the dog and secretly hoping the bird will stay calm and not bite my ear. She did this last week and my ear is still healing.  Luckily Jolene was tickled by the ants and dropped the stupid almond.  I grabbed it, raced to the back door for some weird reason, and threw it out the door.  While the door was open I shook off some of the ants.  Miraculously the bird stayed on my shoulder.

I tried to stay calm for my bladder's sake.  I grabbed yet another sunflower seed and lured the bird onto her perch on the inside of the cage door, then slowly shut the door on her.  There were still a few ants crawling up my arm.  I squashed them as fast as I could.  Whew!  The bird was tucked away, the ants on my arm were dead.

But before I could head upstairs to the bathroom I had to contend with the rest of the ants,  so I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a can of bug spray, ran to the front door, picked up the rug in front of the door and threw it outside, ants and all; I could see little ant bodies flying everywhere.  Then I sprayed the heck out of the floor and the door jam.

Once I could tell that the ants were all dead, I considered going outside to see how they got in in the first place.

But I REALLY HAD TO PEE!

So I decided it could wait and finally headed for the bathroom.

But now I found that every move I made increased the risk of my peeing my pants.  So I slowly headed for the stairs.  Very slowly.  I took a step, paused to relax my bladder, took a step, paused to relax my bladder, took a step and hoped no one was standing outside my front door watching me, then paused again to calm my bladder.

Miraculously I made it upstairs to the bathroom with dry pants, but:  now I have a knot in the sash that's holding my shorts up. 

I struggled and struggled, and long story shortened:  I did not wet myself.

I'm too old for this stuff.

(P.S.  I never did find the ant trail into my house, Jolene got fed, and I did get to the grocery store, where I forgot to buy half of the groceries I went to the store for in the first place but I did bring home stuff I found that looked good.)