THE CICADA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20520, 22 March 1930, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE CICADA.

HIS SONG OF SUMMER. By H. COLLETT. 60, Taranaki Street, Wellington. I am going to tell you about the cigalo or cicada, a wonderful little insect which most of you probably, and incorrectly, call a locust. Now, locusts are like grasshoppers—which, all of us know quite well —and are really first cousins, but do not, in any way, resemble the cicada, which is an entirely different species of insect. The cicada is found in most parts of our world, but is more common to warmer countries. There are a great many varieties, ranging in size from half-an-inch to three inches in length. An Italian species exists that takes eleven years to change from an esg to a fully developed cicada. In New Zealand there are two v;yieties, one much larger than the other, but both very beautiful, indeed, and plentiful around Nelson and other such sunny localities. On bright, summer days they may be heard, in thousands, singing away merrily in the gardens and bush, for they are such happy and noisy little things; they simply love sunshine and heat; the brighter and hotter the day the louder they sing.

—By Elsie Evans. Nature has been very kind too, and given them three most wonderful gifts. The first, to the males only, is a musical box, shaped like a small and shallow ice-cream cone, the sides of which are a polished yellow, and act as the sounding board of a piano for a tiny bunch of nerves at the base that vibrate and produce the sound. Above this cone are two plates that can be raised or lowered at will, so as to regulate the volume of song. The second, to females only, is a " drill and egg-layer combined " that enables the drilling' of holes in dry twigs and the laying of eggs in them. The third, to both male and female, is a " borer and pump in one." When the cicada is thirsty it does not have to go looking for water but settles upon a young, juicy shoot to get what it requires.

One gloriously warm and sunny day, at Nelson, a female cicada flew across and settled on a hard, dry twig about as thick through as an ordinary lead pencil. How pretty she was looking, too! A bright, green blouse with black trimmings to it.; rich, brown skirt of velvet with jet black hoops upon it; and over all this was a magnificent transparent, golden gauze shining cape. She was going to be very busy that morning and had no time to waste. There were three hundred ezgs to be laid, nurseries to be made to receive and hide them in. Having carefully chosen the position, she settled down to work. Drilling a. hole in the twig, she laid about 14 eggs in it then on to another, working upward in spirals till her task was completed. Feeling tired and thirsty by now, she darted away in search of refreshYneilt, and settled upon a sweet, sappy, young shoot. In a moment she had drilled a hole through the soft bark and was pumping the sap into her mouth. It had been a very warm and sunny dav, and, in consequence, all the night s dew'was dried up, and water was bard to find. Other insects, too, were thirsty, among thom the ants. Now, these ants knew" what was happening and flocked to tlio cicada's fountain, where, as she pumped up the sap, tiny globes of moisture were formed on the bark from which the ants drank. But'ants are very greedy little creatures and thought they would like tho fountain for themselves; thov bit and drove the cicada off. Let us return to the nursery. While the cicada was laying her eggs, she was being watched by a tiny fly; no sooner was one nursery filled, and another begun, than this watching fly laid a single egg on lop of those already there. You will wonder -why, no doubt ? If every cicada egg were hatched the world would have too many cicadas; so, Nature has created this f!v to regulate things; the egg she lays hatches before the others, and the grub feeds upon them. Of course, millions of cicada eggs escape the fly, and in a few weeks hatch out into wee grubs. These, at. once, fall to the ground and burrow into tho earth, where they make their homes in deep, polished tunnels and live there for four years, feeding on the sap of underground roots. Then comes the time for these ugly little things to changn into beautiful insects; they come out of their burrows and crawl up the tree trunks, burst their cones and appear in the last stage, as cicadas, which we hear and see. The cicada has a very short life in its mature shape, about one month only; and. those that live out the month are indeed luckv for they have so many enerfiies. Hawks, sparrows, other birds and many insects find them very dainty eating. Tn Australia, and many other parts of the world also, there is a big green " grasshopper " —it is also known as cicada, though not one—that prevs_ upon them by day and night. He, too, is one I of Nature's creations to keep the cicadas in check.