For a few weeks now I have had numerous brief encounters with a cicada who moved into my backyard. I had seen it stuck to the side of my house and the dog took notice too. Coming home one evening at dusk, I stepped up to the backdoor fumbling with my keys. A sudden squealing protest came up around me. It was very like that coming from a cat after it’s tail is stepped on. I was confused because looking around I saw nothing. That protest however became more frantic as nanoseconds passed.
Finally I moved my foot to take a wider view when out from under it came the little cicada. Still protesting, it popped onto it’s back, then righted itself, then took off flying in a short loop that crashed back into me, bumped off and another short directed loop until it had made three aggressive passes at me and flown off for good. I had to giggle at it's indignation. And then I marveled that an insect made such a mammalian fuss. It clearly communicated it’s outrage and I paused to consider if insects really could have feelings. Heh.
I didn’t see him for a while after that. A few days later I came out my backdoor and there it was lying on it’s back, still. I figured my crushing it might have led to it’s demise so I took the flyswatter I keep by the door and flipped it off my deck. It must have been playing dead. It took flight, mid flip of the swatter, screamed at me and did it’s attacking loops again…three times. It must have perched on my back door and fallen off when I opened it. That or it feigned death when it saw me approach. I considered that it was his fault this time; lesson NOT learned.
I live in the country where there are aren’t any streetlights flooding yellow light into my backyard or droning that incessant hum that drowns out the night. I walk my dog in the dark with only a flashlight. I prefer it actually. I like being able to look up and see so many stars. I like listening to the still only broken by the occasional hoot of an owl prowling for dinner. Even the bats darting above me are silent.
Recently an enormous orbweaver (spider) set up for business on the corner of my house. I was simultaneously frightened and fascinated. She showed up on the evening before a tropical storm was to pass. It was rainless and windy that night and I thought “how clever building your web now when everyone else is zipping about in that pre-storm nervousness that is palpable; every living thing was preparing." And here is this spider not only taking advantage of the increased traffic but gusts of wind keep sending victims directly into her web.
This spider was fat. She clearly was a survivor and had a few tricks in her quiver of skills. Her abdomen alone was the diameter of a quarter. She was orange and rust colored with black bands running up her eight legs. Her web was gorgeous though the first night I saw her it was ragged and torn from the wind and the disproportionate number of victims that where blown into it.
While I awed at this magnificent creature, she still gave me the heebie jeebies and so I granted her wide berth. Unfortunately her web hung at the bottom of my stairs. I tried to pass her quickly. I did once catch one of her web anchors across the face. It was stretched from the corner of my house to the deck railing a full seven feet away. I knew I was good on distance and she wouldn't be dropping onto my head but her silk was stronger and stickier than most and was hard to get off. How she got it there gave me a thrill as I moved with more haste past her web.
My dog seems more puppyish at night. It is perhaps because the sun has moved to another part of earth and the night is cooler. This summer has been hotter than most and during the day, even my dog has given up on his walks and beelines back to the house. The night is our time to play. He runs in circles about the yard with the grace of a gazelle, then cuts a tight turn with a spin like a cheetah on prey. He stirs up a cloud of dust with every tight turn; his tongue whipping about. His face is pure puppy joy. There is a patch of dirt he has cultivated. It is a sandy, fine dirt that is now bare of any grass. It is soft and loose from his spins. If I were a dog that would be my favorite spot of earth too.
The other night we went out for outside to play. Within a few steps from the from the door he tracked on something in the grass. I assumed it was a toad only it was clearly moving too fast and chaotically to be one. My dog had come across a very hearty bug it seems, and he chased it about the yard nipping the air as it took flight, then fell. Under the beam of the flashlight I watched it dive bomb for the grass but the cheetah was on it. Finally in his mouth, he swallowed, then choked, then with a hack, coughed up his prey. I laughed at him. “Serves you right silly dawg.” The bug took off this time it hit the side of the house, bounced and repeated the maneuver. I recognized the pattern. It was the cicada!
I distracted the dog and we went to play in his dirt patch. On the track back inside i saw it; the cicada was caught in the orbweaver’s web. It’s wings were outstretched as it tried frantically to loose itself. It did not waste it’s energy on screeching noises. The cicada was wrecking the web and the spider equally his size had retreated to her corner and let the web tire her prey. I had thought briefly of cutting it loose. He was too tangled to ever be able to get the sticky silk off and would likely never fly again on any account.
The cicada, it seems had used all of it’s chances. In the cat and mouse game it had played with my dog, in the end it’s distraction would end it all. I wanted to watch as the orbweaver concluded her business but she was patient and waited for this hearty bug to give up. I went inside the house feeling kind of sick about it all. It was nature. It was raw and cruel and it was how life moves forward. Survival is not for the foolish or the distracted. The cicada showing it’s hand with the dog, had in the end lost it to the spider.
In the morning, both the web and the cicada were gone. They had vanished like a waking dream.
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