Climate change being a thing, we here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia got an unexpected cold spell over the weekend. How cold you ask? It was in the 50s Saturday and Sunday, and I turned the heat back on.
This threw a chill over Brood X, who must have found it quite the
bummer: imagine being literally holed up under ground for 17 years; you emerge
with love on your mind and all of a sudden it’s too cold for an arthropod to
get it up. This meant that the cicadas just parked on trees for two days;
silently.
However, I knew yesterday that it was going to be warmer because
when I got up, they were already singing the song of their people.
So, here’s another system dump on the Brood in the ‘Hood, because they are back looking for love.
I noticed these cocoons some weeks ago. I don’t know if they were
intended to keep cicadas off the leaves, but they didn’t stop them from hanging
out on the cocoon and leaving their trash behind:
And several piling on Saint Francis, which seems appropriate:
This one is showing off his wings; because he can:
(It looks almost as though he’s blind and feeling his way.)
Some more hangers:
No comments:
Post a Comment