The 17-year Itch

Katydid on Teasel

It seems I’m always nursing some pesky itch.
A patch of poison ivy gained from the pursuit of a blue butterfly or the rudely appearing red welts of chiggers, invisible irritants within the tall grass.
For most of the summer, I’m itchy.
I look forward to the cool days of fall for relief.

I spent a warm morning clearing brush from our trails—the winds from Ike’s passing, tearing branches from the oak woods and casting them carelessly along the path where they entangle walkers’ feet. A good chunk of time I invested, for, soon, icy days will shorten my visits and chilled fingers send me back home for warming.

A few hours’ trimming and tossing restored order. And, aside from a few scratches from some misplaced brambles, the morning was perfect—

The next day, however, a large red welt appeared, with an itch that commanded attention.
Could this be an Oak Leaf Gall Itch Mite’s bite?
The tiny mites, Pyemotes herfsi, that feed on the midge larvae of oak leaf galls?
Pin Oak leaves?
And fall in mite showers in autumn?

Very likely.
Because, in addition to midge larvae, the eggs of 17-year Cicadas are also suspected of hosting these mites. In years of Cicada emergences, mite populations also increase. And with them, complaints of bites.

So, this summer of the cicada has become the fall of the itch mite.

And the itch goes on...

Oak Leaf Gall Itch Mite bite

Itch Mite
photo from Associated Press as published in Cincinnati Enquirer

For more information on Itch Mites, read this.
For details of the Cincinnati outbreak, read this.

Another world

This is a summer unlike most.
And certainly unlike any I can remember.


With each day, I think they must be gone—but, again the rhythmical chanting begins.
From high in the trees, or the grasses at my feet—they are everywhere.
Still.
Invaders from another world.

Fallen bodies litter the paths I walk.
They stumble, as in a drunken flight, bumping from one spot to the next. Orange wings clattering noisily along.
To leave a generation behind.

I wonder how this place will have changed in the 13 or 17 years before their young emerge from feeding below the earth.
And how large these small branches will have become.


And what the sky must feel like to something that has only known darkness.

Female depositing eggs into branch
(ovipositor behind last pair of legs)

Scarring left on branches

“Mated females excavate a series of Y-shaped egg nests in living twigs and lay up to twenty eggs in each nest . A female may lay as many as 600 eggs. Six to ten weeks or so after oviposition, in midsummer, the eggs hatch and the new first-instar nymphs drop from the trees, burrow underground, locate a suitable rootlet for feeding, and begin their long 13- or 17-year development.”

from University of Michigan Museum of Zoology

Emergence

They're back!
Actually, they've been here all along. For the last seventeen years, that is, living beneath the ground, and feeding off the sap from tree roots.
Periodical cicadas emerge in "broods," groups sharing the same 13 or 17-year cycle, when the ground reaches about 64 degrees, usually in mid-May. But with this year's cooler spring, we found them appearing Monday. Smaller than the Dog-day cicadas of late summer, periodical cicadas are black, with bright red eyes.

And, although they may look pretty scary, they're harmless.
Some even say they're delicious!





If you live near one of these little red dots, you're probably seeing them too!

We're fortunate to have one of the foremost cicada experts living in the Cincinnati area.
Dr. Gene Kritsky has more detailed information on his website.

Map copied from The Ohio State Cicada Project website.