Are the zombie bugs gone yet?
The holes in the lawn were the first sign of trouble. Next came the emergence of slimy, crunchy, sticky creatures from the depths. The zombie bug apocalypse had begun, and our house was apparently Ground Zero.
The epicenter appeared to be the old splintered telephone pole on the corner (yes, the one I previously wrote about that is still tied to the new pole). Neighbors would walk past on their evening stroll and ask if we saw the cicadas. I would laugh and shake my head thinking, “Gee, I hadn’t noticed the thousands of disgusting insects swarming our entire property.”
These cicadas are not smart and apparently don’t have much will to live (even if it is only for about a month). Not only do they not even try to run when you approach them, they just sit there waiting to be slaughtered. At least ants, spiders and flies have the brains and survival instinct to scurry away and hide. These cicadas just kept trudging along in their slow, zombie-bug death march back toward our garage and trees no matter how many times I swept them away and eventually smashed them with a broom. I’m not proud of that, but I simply could not take the onslaught anymore. Live and let live, except in the case of cicadas or, really, any insect that gives me the creeps.
I read that cicadas can harm plants and young trees, so I fought in vain against their will to climb up our young tree’s trunk. Finally, I took a page from the New Orleans Police Department. They smear grease on the signposts and light poles during Mardi Gras so that drunken revelers can’t climb them. I wrapped the tree trunk in aluminum foil to keep out the bugs, then sprayed the foil with vegetable oil. It worked like a charm. I stood there laughing as the cicadas launched futile attempts to scale the slippery foil and fell back to the ground. That’ll fix their little wagons.
As if the “rise up from the ground in creepy piles of pupae” stage wasn’t bad enough, next came the “fly around and land on your head” phase. This became particularly annoying while trying to mow the lawn and feeling creepy crawlies land on my neck and legs. I know they’re harmless, but their spikey little legs make you think they’re biting when they latch onto your skin. The final straw came when I read that once these devil bugs set up shop to scream their mating calls in the treetops, we have to beware of them urinating on us. You read that right: Bug experts say cicadas take in excess water and will rain it down on those beneath the trees.
The next zombie-bug apocalypse won’t happen here for 17 years. That sounds like a good excuse to take a four- to six-week “cicada-cation” the next time they invade.
Kristin Emery can be reached at kristinemery1@yahoo.com.