I saw this cicada on my patio Tuesday morning. Judging from the empty shell nearby (see below), I would surmise that he had just molted and was drying himself out. After 41 years of hearing cicada noises during the heat of the summer, I had never seen one up close and in person until this week. Kinda cool, isn't it?
Cicadas make a loud, insistent sound that is unique in the insect world. For me, those cicada songs define summer in the south. They are a constant soundtrack on sultry summer days; almost deafening at times. I even heard them on hot days in New England, where the sound never failed to transport me back home to Georgia in my mind.
This is the shell he crawled out of:
