“It’s quiet out there tonight.”

“Yeah; too quiet.”

Those of you familiar with westerns will know that this exchange between two cowboys guarding the wagon train immediately precedes every Injun  Native American west of the Missouri river overrunning the camp, killing all the men and carrying off the women. Those were the good old days but I digress.

Well, it’s not “too quiet” but it’s getting close. This morning, I really had to strain to hear any noise at all from the cicada population. Yes, if you listen very, very carefully – and there’s not any traffic on the street out front – you can hear a bit of the once overwhelming racket; much diminished and far away. It’s pretty safe to say now that the cicadas have had their day. There were some groups raising quite the din on our way out to Lake Monticello late Monday afternoon but the chorus was almost non-existent when I took the same route this morning.

For the past few days, I have found the remains of the recently departed on the hoods and roofs of the Parsonage motor pool; remains that were not there the previous afternoon or when I turned into the car-park 2 hours earlier. Those remains are rapidly disassembling themselves.

Back in the fabulous 50’s and swingin’ 60’s, there was a kids game called “Cootie”. What you had there was a box full of plastic bug parts; heads, thoraxes, legs, eyes, etc. and the players each rolled a die in turn trying to assemble a complete cootie bug before everyone else.

 


NB –  The game called Cootie is not to be confused with “cooties”; the dread affliction of elementary school hallways and play-grounds. There are many of us who still suffer the after-effects 50 years hence. There is no known cure for cooties but there is hope. To learn how you can help, write Washington, DC.


 

Well, the back patio looks like someone dumped the contents of a giant box of Cootie parts; wings, legs, heads, etc. litter the ground and are tracked into the back hall-way. I’ve swept the patio for the n-th time and have had to mop up the spew of cats who thought that a thorax with a side of wings would hit the spot. No doubt, I’ll have to repeat the process again tomorrow.

Resource:

 Cootie (game) — Wikipaedia

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