Since I was a child, my favourite sound in the world has always been the sound of cicadas. I have two siblings and when we were little, we would have ‘daysleeps’ on the weekends and mum would seperate us into different bedrooms so that we would sleep rather than play. We would rotate each weekend. On the days when it was my turn to sleep in mum and dad’s room, I would lie in their bed and smell the mown grass and listen to the cicadas and think about what games we could play when we were allowed to get back up. That sound brings back those memories of endless childhood summers. I love it.
Our cats are doing their best to rid me of that love.
They have a new game. Rather than catching birds or mice, they have started catching cicadas and bringing them into the house. It was pretty entertaining at first. We’d be sitting in the lounge and suddenly we’d hear that chirrupping sound getting louder and louder, then the catdoor would open and in would come Chico with a cicada in his mouth. Hilarious.
What isn’t so hilarious is that he then lets them go to fly around the house whilst in hot pursuit. He runs up curtains, leaps onto cupboards and claws his way up furniture and walls in an attempt to recatch the bloody things. All hell breaks loose.
This new game takes place 4 or 5 times a day. Every now and then, he brings in a cicada that is slightly more clever than the others. These smart guys find somewhere cunning to hide. Like up the extractor fan vent in the kitchen. Or behind the wall heater. Or on a chandalier. The cats team up and spend hours trying to lure it out. And then they give up.
The cicada remains in hiding for several hours before it gets the courage back up to start singing. But eventually they all do.
So now we have a house full of singing cicadas all in impossible to reach places.
It was pretty funny.
For a while.