The cicadas have started their summer chattering, and I was out on the deck Sunday trying to do a bit of cicada spotting. I love the way cicadas look, like little tanks with wings of transparent organza. I love the way they sound, like cheesy sound effects from a monster movie from the fifties. And I especially love the way they fly, like oversized, hesitant bullets.
I could hear the cicadas in the oaks in front of and to the side of the deck, so I was watching those in particular hoping to see a cicada fly by. Several times I caught a glimpse of cicada from the corner of my out at the lower branch of the oak about fifty feet from the side of the deck, but I never focused quickly enough to actually get a good look at the bugger.
I was just starting to get suspicious because the cicada kept appearing at the same point of the branch time after time when it appeared again. I watched it fly up to the branch, stop just short of landing on the branch, hover for a split second, and then land. It stayed about fifteen seconds and then shot off in a blur.
Cicadas don't hover. The only time cicadas fly fast enough to blur is when they're caught in a tornado. This was no cicada. The Prof brought out his binoculars for me, and I kept watch on the branch. In about fifteen minutes the not-a-cicada returned, landed on the branch, and hopped over to a tiny nest, where it lingered for only a few seconds before taking off again.
I refilled the hummingbird feeder and am cursing the heat that keeps me from spending my afternoons on the deck watching mother ruby-throat care for her chicks.