A special brood of cicadas—an ancient lineage of the periodical insects—is set to burst from the soil this May and June, covering more of the United States than any other 17-year brood.
These bugs—collectively known as Brood XIV—have been biding their time underground since the last Bush administration, biding their time and counting the years go by. Now they’re back with two goals: Get loud and get laid.
This isn’t just any swarm. Brood XIV is considered the original brood, from which all other 17-year cicada broods split off, according to YaleEnvironment360. This is the motherlode of massive, crunchy, droning insects.
For a few wild weeks to come, the skies will fill with their raspy mating calls, as the insects rise up simultaneously. The synchronized emergence isn’t just for flair. It’s a numbers game: By surfacing in the billions, cicadas overwhelm their predators—birds, squirrels, snakes, you name it—who are so sated by the plenty that the cicadas’ arrival sends waves through the food chain.
When cicadas emerge, populations of cuckoos, blue jays, and some woodpecker species swell. But not all the effects are good: Because the birds are busy eating cicadas, caterpillar populations can go unchecked, allowing those bugs to damage oak trees to a greater degree.
Most of the insects will get eaten, but enough will survive to keep the brood going. Once the survivors lay their eggs—their purpose fulfilled—they die. The brood’s tiny offspring disappear underground for another 17 years, from which they will rise again in 2041.
The cicadas are expected to appear as far west as Kansas, as far north as Wisconsin and Michigan, down through the Mississippi Delta to New Orleans, and along much of the East Coast from Georgia and South Carolina up to Connecticut. You can review a detailed map of broods, including where they historically have emerged and are expected to emerge again, at this University of Connecticut site.
And as with everything else these days, climate change could be messing with the cicada clock. A Japanese study found that warming temperatures are pushing some cicadas to emerge earlier in the year. Over time, hotter conditions might even shrink their 17-year underground snooze.
But those are longer term forecasts, and Brood XIV’s timing is imminent. In the next weeks, if you hear droning and you’re not near a construction site, there’s no need to panic: It’s just billions of bugs on a once-in-a-generation bender.
