There was an awful lot to read about the cicada life cycle, especially what happens after hatching. The little nymphs need to get to the soil and find roots. I hoped Flicky’s eggs might eventually get that far.

We’re now eight days into this unexpected adventure with Flicky the Floury Baker, and she’s still spending time on the branches I’ve provided. One of those branches has already been used for egg laying, and I was rather interested in how she seemed to remember exactly where she’d been working. It had been exceptionally hot, around 38 degrees Celsius, and I’d even taken Flicky along to work rather than leave her in the heat without being able to check on her.

During the night I’d moved her onto another part of the arrangement, only to find that she made her way back towards the same section of branch. Perhaps she was recognising something about the wood, or perhaps it was simply the most suitable place available. She seemed particularly interested in a small section of twig where she’d already laid eggs, which made me wonder whether cicadas have some way of keeping track of where they’ve been.

I took a closer look at the little cuts left in the branch by the ovipositor. They’re surprisingly noticeable once you know what you’re looking for, although my camera wasn’t particularly interested in focusing on them. It’s amazing how much damage a small insect can make when she’s depositing eggs into wood. I was also surprised at how small the nymphs appeared to be when I looked up photographs of newly hatched cicadas.

The branches Flicky had already laid eggs in were another matter. I’d removed those older branches from her enclosure and placed them in a small amount of plain water, hoping to prevent the wood from drying out and warping. If the wood changed shape too much, I was concerned it could end up crushing the eggs inside. Not exactly what I wanted after all this effort!

Flicky had separate branches in her enclosure for feeding. I’d been experimenting with a dilute honey-and-water mixture for those, although I couldn’t tell whether she was actually getting anything useful from it. They were still cut branches rather than part of a living tree, so I was doing my best with what I had available.

Looking at the wood under a microscope, I could see what appeared to be the little passages in the xylem. It was fascinating to think that these were the structures Flicky was trying to draw fluid from, even though I still had plenty to learn about what was happening inside the branch.

I was also concerned about her damaged wings and what might have happened if I’d left her outside where I found her. She may have struggled to fly or move between trees, and there are certainly plenty of ants and other predators or scavengers around. I’d only seen her attempt to fly once during the week, which made me think keeping her somewhere safe had been the better option.

I was reminded of that after seeing ants attacking a Christmas beetle. I managed to free the poor thing and put it into some dirt, hoping it would recover. It wasn’t exactly reassuring to think about what might have happened to Flicky if she’d ended up on the ground.

Another thing I’d started noticing was a change in the appearance of Flicky’s compound eyes. The upper section of one eye looked lighter than I remembered, and there seemed to be a rather distinct dividing line. Some of the descriptions I’d read referred to Floury Bakers having brown eyes, although Flicky’s looked more grey to me. I wondered whether age might have something to do with the change, but I really didn’t know.

She also seemed to have something bothering her on the right-hand side from time to time. I’d watch her move her front and back legs as though something was irritating her, while the middle leg remained attached to the branch. Whether it was a tiny insect, an injury or something else entirely, I couldn’t see anything obvious. Maybe it was just a little bug bugging the bug!

There was more experimenting with fresh branches throughout the day. Sometimes Flicky appeared interested in feeding, while at other times she would walk around and investigate the available twigs. At one point I’d started calling her Flappy McBuggo, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable name for a cicada with such unfortunate wings.

I even experimented with a fan and extra humidity to see whether the conditions could be improved. Unfortunately the humidifier had other ideas. A rubber seal had deteriorated and water ended up all over the floor, so that was another little problem to sort out!

The other challenge is what to do if the eggs develop and hatch successfully. Cicada nymphs need to reach soil and find suitable roots after hatching, which means I can’t simply leave the branches in an ordinary container indefinitely. I’ve been reading about their lifecycle and trying to work out a practical way to provide the right conditions.

There are still a lot of things I don’t know. I can’t confirm how many eggs are in any particular slit, and I don’t want to damage the branches just to find out. For now, I’d rather keep them as healthy as possible and see whether anything develops naturally.

By the end of the day Flicky was still moving about and showing interest in the branches. We’re not exactly running a professional entomology laboratory here, but I’m doing my best to look after her and whatever eggs might be tucked away in the wood.

Eight days already. Who would have thought one little cicada could keep me this busy?

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