Invasives and invasions pit humans versus nature.
Peter Dykstra for the Environmental Health News
photo credit: MostlyDross/flickr
I'm
not terribly disappointed that, by moving from Washington D.C. to Georgia, I've
missed the last two Brood X cicada invasions.
Let's
get a few things straight: The "X" in "Brood X" is a Roman
number, so just say "Brood Ten." But that means calling the noisy
ones "X-Men" doesn't work (ATTN: TV Newsreaders). And they don't dig
out from their 17-year hiatus until the ground temperature reaches 64°F
(17.8°C). The best concise description of Brood X/Ten I found is at this page from the National Park
Service.
And
a final dirty human secret about the Brood Ten cicadas: Their range only covers
portions of a few mid-Atlantic states and D.C. But that means they're enabled
to disrupt every outdoors live shot from every TV reporter in Washington D.C.
The clinchers came on Wednesday, when
President Biden battled off a cicada on his departure to Europe, some of the
six-legged assailant's hench-insects delayed the White House press corps plane
by six hours when they lodged themselves in an auxiliary engine.
Which
affirms a dirty not-so-secret about what many consider an East Coast media
bias: What happens in Washington or New York speaks for the entire country.
In
this case, the speaking was done by the wings of countless male cicadas,
looking to get back in the breeding game after 17 years literally underground.
The cicadas should be quiet by the end of the month, to return in 2038. The
resident population of alleged East Coast media bias will probably be waiting
for them.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Like Peter, I also miss the cicada, sort of, after leaving DC to return to Rhode Island after 25 years away. In full disclosure, I worked a lot with Peter when he was communications director for Greenpeace and later when he was a director at CNN. I always loved his sense of humor. - Will Collette
Asian carp
So
enough about insects and journalists. Fish and journalists, anyone?
If
you think TV folks love cicada stories, try Asian carp. The fish were brought
to the U.S. in the mid-20th century to control algae blooms near sewage
treatment plants and fish farms. One species, the silver carp, made its way
from Mississippi Delta catfish farms upriver to Illinois, outcompeting native
fish all the way.
But
these fish have a quirky defensive behavior that's also fabulous slapstick comedy. When threatened
or alarmed, silver carp can breach up to 15 feet in the air. I've watched video
of fishermen rejoicing as fish fulfill an old myth by literally jumping into
the boat; a wildlife biologist hit full in the trousers by an airborne carp; or
a TV reporter striking theatrical paydirt when hit upside the head with a
frightened fish.
Noodling
for catfish
Noodling fishing tournament in Oklahoma. (Credit: Nate/flickr)
And
finally, I can't leave the topic of human-wildlife interaction without giving a
shout-out to the sport of noodling—also known as handgrabbing.
The
last time I checked, noodling was legal (sometimes with restrictions) in 11
states. It involves the catching of catfish by unconventional means: allowing
an enormous flathead or channel catfish to mistake your arm for a meal, then
running a rope through the channel cat's mouth and gills. Or, for expediency
and on smaller (maybe 20 lbs.) cats, ditch the rope and just run your hand
through the mouth and out the gills.
Either
way, hobbying hazards from having a giant fish try to swallow your arm can
include infections, broken bones, injured muscles and tendons and scar tissue
up to the elbow. Whooppeee!
This 13-minute video from father-daughter
YouTube noodling sensations Jeff and Hannah Barron will change your life.
Or
not.
Peter Dykstra is EHN's weekend editor and columnist and can be reached at pdykstra@ehn.org or @pdykstra.