Who's Got Giant Wasps?

I've got giant wasps!

Just when I thought all the summer excitement of the cicadas of Cincinnati was completely gone (except for the occasional husk), there is more fun!

Yesterday, I was outside and, like any good homeowner, weed-whacking, when I looked down to see a large mound of obviously-dug-out dirt. Next to another one. There were almost a dozen, actually, anywhere from four to nine inches in width.

What the hell? Moles again? Some kind of crazy ants?

So I did what every reasonable male without supervision would do: I poked one of them with a stick. And I poked again. And from a certain angle, I could see the entrance hole in one of these buggers. and it was about as thick as my pinky finger.

That's no ant.

Figuring that it was innocuous, I stood back up, picked up the weed-whacker, and just before I pulled the trigger - a deep, resounding "Bzzz-bzz-bbzzzzz" and I turned quickly to catch a quick shift of movement to match the noise and ...this:


Not My Picture

That image is about right: hovering from the dirt nest like an Apache Chopper, and slowly moving in my direction, was a wasp larger than I'd ever seen. There was black and there was yellow, but my senses were first overwhelmed by the tremendous noise it made and then by the fact that it was almost two inches long and as thick around as my pinky finger.

So I did what every reasonable male without supervision would do: I dropped the weed whacker, screamed like a schoolgirl, and retreated twenty feet, doing a twitchy, shivering dance of sorts. After calming down and seeing several of these behemoths come and go, I slowly reeled the weed-whacker in by the power cord and retreated to the internets to find out about this monstrosity.

The Cicada Killer (Sphecius speciosus)

The boring part of the story is that these guys are called Cicada Killers. Regionally, they have adapted to their habitat and emerge only after the cicadas - surprise! They tunnel into the dirt, one female per mound, and bind up their eggs with cicadas so their babies can feed...when the cicadas wake up.

The males, most often seen, cannot actually sting. And the females, who can, will only do so if stepped on barefoot or grabbed.

Aren't you lucky! This means at least one more post. I've got some pictures of the mounds, but by the time I got my blood pressure down and opened a beer, it was nearing dusk, and I couldn't catch any pics of the wasps. Better luck tomorrow.

Cincinnati Cicadas - The Noise

No pics, as promised, although they're moving a lot between trees and bushes right now. No swarming yet.

But the noise is something I didn't expect. In "Independence Day," there's that one scene where the President gets overwhelmed with psychic noise of an insect nature. It's like that, but constant. And oscillating.

Right now, when it's at its peak, you can't hear people right next to you speak. And it rings in your ears. It's got an oscillating wave of about 5.5 seconds between peaks and at the peak it's enough to drive you crazy if you're not ready to just experience it and feel in awe of it. Much like the theory of taking acid: if you're not ready for anything, stay inside.

Unfortunately, I have no recording equipment to bring the pain to you. Or acid. Actually, that's probably fortunate on both counts.

Cincinnati Cicadas, Round 5 - Brood XIV

For those of you who are avoiding my blog because you are sicked out by the Cicada pictures, I apologize. I really do. Mrs. Shambles is - at the very least - irritated by my fascination for these 17-year insects. It's not looking likely, but if they mate and take to swarming, she'll be in the basement for the next three weeks.

So if you don't want to see pictures of bugs, please bear with me one last time. Yes, this is the last one. I promise. Unless they swarm. One guy I talked to yesterday said when they hit Cincinnati the last time (2004), you could drive down the street, not even very fast, and 50 could hit your windshield at once. Let's just say I filled my washer fluid reservoir today. Not really, but I should've.

So today's Cicada excitement comes in a couple forms. All of them photographic.

NOTE: All images used in my Cicada posts - good or bad - are all original photography and I did not watermark it because that's a pain in the ass. If you want to copy and post it yourself, I ask for two things: 1) Make a mention of my blog. A link would be nice. 2) Don't leech; that means: copy the image and save it yourself and upload it to your image hosting (I use Photobucket) or blog site itself.


Cicada husks in the shrubbery. Bastards!

So let's go through some life-cycle action:


What it looks like after emerging from the ground


At first I thought "Albino Cicada!" but that's the emergence.


Emergence with an early riser in the background.


Believe it or not, same cicada as in the previous 2 pictures about an hour and a half later.

So how do you feel about this series? Gross? Vile? Enlightening? You hated bugs already and now hate me? Let me know. My comment box is always opened and never monitored.

Still working on the noise...

Cincinnati Cicadas, Round 4 - Brood XIV

More pics and scientific information this time.


Got a picture of one of them emerging, before the molt.


The ground appears as swiss cheese, or at least like the brain of a mad cow.


...and the husks continue to pile...

And teh science on Cincinnati Cicadas (or at least the news)!

"Individual songs can be heard right now," Kritsky said. "They will start chorusing over the weekend and be at their peak by June 7. By July 4, they'll be gone."
...
"I once measured the sound of a cicada singing in a tree at 96 decibels," Kritsky said. "That's louder than the planes flying over my Delhi Township home."
...
For cicadas to emerge from their 17-year subterranean slumber, the soil needs to reach 65 degrees.
...
As with every cicada emergence, the fundamental things about these insects apply: They do not carry disease. They do not sting or bite humans. They do not taste good.

"I ate one from the last brood in 2004," Kritsky said.

He rated the cicada for mouth feel: "Like eating something squishy from a cold can of asparagus."

And taste: "The juice from that same can."

Mmmm...asparagus!

So it looks like 5 or so days to the peak. The noise is currently at an antagonistic annoyance level - cranking the Sirius much higher this past week. Hopefully I can figure out how to get you wonderful readers a sample of the noise. It's really quite lovely.

Cincinnati Cicadas, Round 3

They're here. More numbers today. Here's my white picket fence (I know; I have a white picket fence: WTF?)



Every one of those dark spots is a husk.



Remember I mentioned molting? They crawl from the ground, gain ground on trees or - in this case - a man-made object, and pop out of their exoskeleton, reborn with wings. I have yet to see one of them climbing, one of the wingless before they break out.

But since I've been watching all the live bugs crawling and flying around in the yard all day and see none now, I'm guessing the daily cycle is emerge in the morning, husk-out, fly and eat and - I guess - mate. I've got to do some more reading.

I did hear more horror stories today at my daughter's 6th grade graduation, about the streets being a bug muck, about people who say it looked like their front porch was moving, so covered it was. And the smell. If all these bugs do, while covering our reality, is eat to mate and die, that's a lot of organic material. One rotting bug is not a concern. A million is said to be pretty awful.

And the noise is already pretty bad - during the day, at least. I guess the misleading aspect of the first few days is that everything eats them - birds, bats, spiders, etc. But they're so big, that soon these animals get tired of the snack and/or fill up. And then the high point of the bell curve of population hits. And as the cicada shit hits the proverbial peak, I'll be there with my camera, making you squirm.

But back to the husks. You know you want a close-up.

Cincinnati Cicadas, Round 2

Today, walking by a couple in the parking lot, I heard one of them say "I'm just worried about the cicadas."

As I mentioned, I'm excited. People are netting their trees. More photos tomorrow.

Bugs, bugs, bugs, yay!