It was 2004 the last time I saw those devilish red eyes. Seventeen years younger, a few inches shorter, and a couple dozen pounds lighter, I developed a curiosity developed for these strange creatures. Flying seemingly blind (they're not), squirming upside-down like a helpless turtle, one is left wondering what purpose they serve in the grand scheme of things.
If you've never experienced the Great Eastern Brood, you're in for an interesting sight (or nightmare if you are easily bugged out). They can dominate a landscape by volume, in two senses of the word. Both by their sheer numbers and the noise they make. Some compare it to the decibel level produced by a running lawn mower.
Curiosity also seems to strike the individual insects. This one in particular hitched a ride on my shoe and joined me for a ride in the car. I let him off at a nice grass knoll.
One area chef is even serving them up in tacos as a limited-time offering. I'm not that curious.
The periodic insects certainly bring out the entomophobia (yep, fear of bugs) in many of us. As my neighbors have said they can't wait for the "flying cockroaches" to go away. One thing's for certain: if you're in the area of a swarm, you won't be able to ignore them. Take some time to observe and appreciate this mysterious natural wonder. In four to six weeks, all that will be left is billions of exoskeletons. Until 2038 when Brood X makes their return to Earth.
