You’ve probably heard a cicada before.
But you’ve probably never heard a dying cicada.
If you’ve never heard either, they are like Texas’ giant version of a cricket, and bigger is always better here. So just picture a cricket’s chirp, held up to a microphone, with more of a Louis Armstrong rasp.
Back to the dying part– I took Claire out for her last pee of the night, and out of nowhere, I see Mirabelle leap halfway up a wall and catch a giant cicada in her paws. The screeching was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard. I imagine all bugs squeal as they’re dying, but this cicada was taking the cake. I wonder if he was the King cicada, because all of a sudden, the trees around me were completely silent, as if in mourning.
Oh, cat. Just a few hours ago, you were purring tenderly in my lap. Now you are all growed up and killing things.
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Christine says
Kelly, I love this description of cicadas! The microphone and Louis Armstrong rasp is perfect.