The sound of the Cicada serenade conjures up images of sitting on the porch with friends and family sipping a cold drink, enjoying the summertime evenings. (For most people) that is. Not me. The sound of Cicadas mean a totally different summer ritual.
I walk the dogs every morning at 4:30 while it’s still dark. Yes I know at 4:30 it’s dark, but there’s a reason I mention that it’s dark. And you’re wondering what walking the dogs at 4:30 has to do with Cicadas, well let me explain.
I discovered quite by accident and pure disgust by the way that my dogs love to eat Cicadas. One early morning I was walking Buddy, our yellow lab, when all of a sudden he jerked the leash toward something large on the ground and grabbed it in his mouth and chomped down. As he snatched it up in his mouth, I heard this sound that sounded like a thousand bees buzzing at once then crunch. As I realized what Buddy had just eaten, my stomach turned over and I thought for a second that I was going to vomit. I thought for sure that he would spit the bug out, because it had to taste absolutely nasty. Obviously not, he loved the taste.
After many Cicadas had been consumed by Buddy, I started to lose the queasy feeling every time he ate one and actually started to help him find them. We currently have three dogs, and all of them love the taste of Cicadas. So every morning on our walks, as we get close to street lights, I start walking around in circles looking for Cicadas resting on the street so the dogs can eat a bug. Charlie gets really excited and watches me for any telltale sign of a Cicada so he can rush over and snatch it up before AJ can get to it.
Thank god no one else walks at the same time in the morning, because anyone that watched us would think I was totally nuts.
One thought on “Summer and Cicadas”
We can all develop eccentric tastes. I happen to like oysters. My human was clearing a few off the sea wall, and I decided to sample the 1or 2 he’d opened while in the process. Now he does that for me from time to time. People tend to think he’s crazy as he sits on the dock, oyster knife in hand a shucks me a few.