Small, Feisty, and LOUD!

Magicicada septendecim was the periodical cicada featured in my last post, but that’s not the only 17-year cicada species who’s been singing. There’s another species that looks like a slightly smaller version of septendecim, but sounds completely different. If you think you won’t be able to tell the difference, I can assure you right now: you will.

Meet Magicicada cassini. 

Now you classically-trained singers will assume this is pronounced, “Ca-SEE-nee.” So will any Italian speakers. But, no: it’s pronounced “CAS-sih-nye.” I still don’t understand how church Latin and scientific Latin can be so different, but I have adapted. 

Let’s get right to their calling songs. Here’s a recording with both Magicicada septendecim and Magicicada cassini. 

Septendecim is the chorus up in the trees with the relatively steady pitch.

Cassini has a series of metallic “tics” and then a very loud buzz that may remind you of an electric string trimmer or a weed whacker. Although they may fly or walk along branches and twigs when they make their “tic” sounds, they stay in place on a perch when singing the loud portion of their song.This cassini was moving between perches, and singing at each new location.

One of the very interesting things about the cassini chorus is that the sound swells and ebbs, then swells again – almost like an inhale and exhale. (This is visible on the sonogram below.) I tried coordinating my breathing with the cassini chorus swells, and it worked pretty nicely! There are septendecim in the background of this recording, but the sizzling cassini sound is more prominent. It's what you'll find noticeable in the sonogram below.

When the Brood V periodical cicada emergence began in NE Ohio, I heard septendecim songs before those of the cassini. Cassini emerged shortly thereafter, singing within a week after the septendecim had begun. I was immediately fascinated, as I'd only recently learned that there was more than one Magicicada species and the songs would be significantly different.

In my brief experience with periodical cicadas, the septendecim are generally higher in the trees and are likely to be in the woods and at the wood edges. I hear cassini in edge habitat and in individual landscape trees or large shrubs. Although they're occasionally in taller trees, I seem to be more likely to find them lower down...and closer to my ears. 

Cassini look very similar to septendecim, but they are a little smaller. The size difference is obvious when both species are seen together.

In addition to the septendecim/cassini song difference and size difference, cassini have black abdomens instead of the yellow-orange stripes of the septendecim. 

Their heads are completely black, while septendecim have an orange stripe between the eye and the top of the wing.

Both cassini and septendecim have red eyes and three additional tiny red eyes in between the two prominent ones.

 

Their behavior is different as well. Septendecim seem rather placid when compared with cassini. They are content to sit on my finger for extended periods of time, riding around on my hand until I make a serious effort to convince them to perch on a plant instead. 

Cassini, however, generally are not interested in hanging out with me. They might agree to sit on my finger for a minute or two, but are just as likely to tell me, “absolutely not!” They are pugnacious in a way that septendecim are not, and are quick to complain loudly and fly off.

(I’ve seen contrasts like this in katydids. When I spot a singing Sword-bearing Conehead, he is likely to gradually slip downward into the grasses or look at me as if to say, “Please don’t eat me.” A Round-tipped Conehead will say, “Oh, HELL no!” and promptly, assertively fly away. No endearing perching on my hand for those coneheads!)

Let’s compare the two Magicicada species' songs – and our perceptions of them – more closely.

First, septendecim songs are much lower in pitch and actually sound like they HAVE pitch, as I described in my last post, Pharaoh of the Cicadas. I can identify the prominent pitches, and each song has a bit of a drop off in pitch and in loudness at the end.  The song definitely sounds louder and a little more harsh and strident when a septendecim is close to me, but it doesn’t begin to approach the intensity of the cassini song. 

In the sonogram below, the septendecim song is clearly visible at the bottom of the sonogram. Its vertical position indicates how high or low the pitch is. Since it appears below the broad band of cassini sound, this tells us that it is lower in pitch than the cassini songs.

As you saw above, the cassini song is much higher: and is in a range that sounds less like pitch and more like scratchy, crackling noise to humans. The songs cover a wider frequency band, too, which results in a complex sound that tends to sound like noise to us. I want to add, however, that I love listening to their gloriously-abrasive “roar.” I just need to protect my hearing when there’s a large chorus!

Here’s the solo cassini from earlier in the post, this time with a sonogram.  

And are they actually louder? It certainly appears that way to me!  When a cassini lands on my microphone and sings, I immediately have to drop the recording level to -18 or even -20 because of the overload. It also overloads my ears as well. 

In fact, their choruses are so loud that I keep my headphones on even when I’m not recording just to have a bit of a barrier between their tymbals and my ears.  

Like Magicicada septendecim, cassini have specific courtship songs in addition to their calling songs. In this recording, a male cassini was singing the typical calling song. However, a female that may have been interested was nearby, so the male switched to a new song that was a little more complex than the first. He then promptly switched to a series of slower, more deliberate “tics.” I caught all of this on one recording in which is the same male made all three of these consecutive songs.  

The recording location, by the way,  was a grocery store parking lot. It was the Heinen’s in Hudson, which is southeast of Cleveland and a little east of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. There were huge numbers of cicadas in the ornamental shrubs and landscaping trees along the edge of the parking lot, and cicadas – mostly cassini – swarmed around them like bees. In addition, cicadas landed on my hair, my clothes, my  gear, people’s cars, and the customers themselves. I thought it was quite amusing – especially when people tried to yell over the sound and kids shrieked as cicadas landed on them.

But alas! Brood V is fading away, and I’m quite sad about it. I’d hoped to record the third species of periodical cicada – Magicicada septendecula – but it’s relatively rare and time has just about run out. Sadly, I’m finding more deceased cicadas every day. Although males are still singing, there is noticeably less song now. Most of the mating seems to have already occurred.

Many females have already oviposited (laid their eggs). I’ve watched many of them and have seen the scars on twigs and branches. 

 

I’m now seeing “flagging” – the dead leaves at the end of the branches and twigs where the eggs were deposited.

In several weeks, tiny nymphs will hatch out, drop to the ground, burrow under the soil, and find roots on which to feed for the next 17 years. I’m not sure if I can wait that long, though! I’ve already checked the periodical cicada brood maps and have noted that Brood VIII will emerge in far eastern Ohio along the Pennsylvania line in 2019, there will be some from Brood X in west/southwest Ohio in 2021, and Brood XIV in southwest Ohio in 2025. I’ve quickly come to love these beautiful cicadas and cannot wait until 2033 to see and hear them again.

The Pharaoh of the Cicadas!

If you live in the eastern half of Ohio, you’ve read or heard about the Brood V emergence year and have quite possibly experienced it yourself.  Not surprisingly, I’ve been out with the cicadas as much as possible. I want to learn and document as much as I can, as 17 years will be a very long time from now.

  

Some people love them and have absolutely embraced this emergence. Some people feel they are a major nuisance. Many people have commented on just how LOUD these choruses of thousands can be. 

But do you know that you may be listening to two (and sometimes possibly three) different species with different songs? The two most common species – Magicicada septendecim and Magicicada cassini – have very different songs, and I’d like to share them both with you so that you’ll know which one you’re hearing and which one is more likely to be the one you might think is too loud. I won’t be writing about this again for another 17 years, so here’s what I’ve learned as of now. 

If you’re hearing a cicada chorus up high in the trees and can't quite figure out how close or far they are, you are likely hearing Magicicada septendecim.

People describe the song as sounding like, “PHA………raoh! PHA…….raoh!” There’s a sustained pitch at around 1400 Hz, followed by a drop off in pitch and volume level at the end. 

Cicadas make their sound with a vibrating a membrane called a tymbal. If you’d like to read more about how this works, there’s an interesting article entitled “Secrets of the Cicada’s Sound” in the 5-30-13 issue of Science Daily (based on materials from the Acoustical Society of America).

While a female cicada’s abdomen is filled with eggs, the male’s abdomen is filled with air that resonates, amplifying the sound created by the membrane’s vibration. Were you to watch one singing, you’d see his abdomen lift up with the loud “PHA….” part of the song, then drop as the pitch and volume drop with the “…raoh.”

When there’s an entire chorus of these cicadas, however, you probably won’t hear the softer second “syllable” of “Pharaoh” – just the sustained first syllable. The result sounds like a single, sustained pitch with no space whatsoever.

When a few individuals are closer, you may hear both syllables during the sustained wall of sound emanating from all the other singers behind them.

As is true for the other Magicicada species, Magicicada septendecim has more than one song. There’s the calling song we typically hear, and there are also courtship songs. You may hear one that is like the standard “Pharaoh” song, but faster and with no gaps between songs. Another courtship song is a rapid “Pha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah.” The details of the courtship songs can be found at magicicada.org here. I haven’t been able to get recordings that adequately isolate the courtship songs yet, as there are always too many individuals singing the primary song all around them!

As a musician, I’ve noticed that the first pitch – the “Pha…”  - is often an E. I thought I would notice more fluctuation with temperature than I have so far, but E has been the most common starting pitch I’ve heard. The range I’ve noticed has been between D# and F#, with the higher pitches being at higher temperatures and more sun. Still, the overall range is not as great as I thought I’d find.

At first, I seemed to be hearing a lot of descending perfect 5ths (or very close to it), which sounds like this:

More recently, however, I’ve heard a great many descending major 6ths – an interval that’s a whole step larger. That's the one you heard in the first recording of the post. I’ve heard a few minor 6ths and a couple of diminished 5ths, but the P5th and M6th are the main intervals – and both sound consonant to our ears.

Occasionally, I’ll hear some individuals begin on slightly different starting pitches. Here’s one individual who called attention to himself..

...and cicadas singing at different pitches. The lower pitch at the end of the track seems to have been two males interacting; they quickly flew off. 

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While males do the singing, females are not silent as we might think. They cue the male with timed wing flicks to indicated their receptiveness or lack thereof. (See "female signals" at magicicada.org.)

I’ve been able to observe the entire above-ground process of their life cycle. As many – but not all – of you know, they live underground for 17 years, dining on sap from tree roots and growing larger. Shortly before they emerge, they create exit holes that are our first indication of where they are located.

When the soil temperature reaches 64 degrees, they can finally make their move. I was very fortunate to watch this miracle at the Geauga Park District’s Big Creek Park just north of Chardon and east of Cleveland. The ground seemed to move as hundreds of nymphs around me pulled themselves out of their holes and began to climb! 

 

Once they reached a location where they could split their nymphal skins and emerge into adulthood, I was able to watch their almost magical transformation.

Adults need to harden sufficiently to fly and sing; singing begins 4-6 days after emergence.   

Their time is limited to 4-6 weeks, however, as the only purpose of this phase of their 17-year lives is to mate and lay eggs.

This pair of septendecim was attached in the middle of a rather busy hike-and-bike path. Another pair had already been crushed nearby, so I decided to rescue them and move them to somewhere more appropriate.

The females oviposit (lay eggs) in branches…

…and the eggs will hatch several weeks later. The tiny nymphs will drop to the ground, burrow underneath, and will not be seen until 2033.

We may only have two or possibly three weeks left, so listen while you can and observe these gentle beauties while the opportunity remains. I’ll follow up shortly with the other species so you’ll know which is which. Time is short – I’ll hurry! In the meantime, you can see the reports of Brood V sightings and hearings at the magicicada.org map.