You’re walking through the woods in late June, and the noise is basically deafening. It’s that high-pitched, electric buzz that defines summer in the Midwest or the South. Most people just see the shells stuck to tree trunks and move on, but if you stop and look closer at the underside of a pencil-sized branch, you might catch something rare. If you manage to snap a clear picture of a female cicada laying eggs, you aren't just looking at a bug. You're looking at a masterclass in biological engineering that’s been refined over millions of years. It looks painful. It looks mechanical. Honestly, it looks like something straight out of a sci-fi flick where the aliens are "seeding" a planet.
She isn't just dropping them on the ground. That would be too easy.
The Saw-Blade Strategy
Female cicadas are equipped with a specialized organ called an ovipositor. In your average picture of a female cicada laying eggs, you’ll see this dark, needle-like appendage extending from the abdomen and piercing deep into the wood of a living twig. It isn’t just a tube. It’s a jagged, serrated saw. She literally cuts a V-shaped slit into the bark.
Why? Because those eggs need protection.
The wood acts as an incubator. It keeps the moisture levels just right so the embryos don't desiccate in the summer heat. According to researchers like Dr. Gene Kritsky, a leading entomologist and author of Periodical Cicadas: The 1970 Emergence, a single female can lay up to 600 eggs across dozens of different sites. She’ll move a few inches, saw a new hole, deposit 20 or so eggs, and repeat. She does this until she’s completely spent. It’s her final act. Usually, shortly after the photo is taken, she falls to the ground and dies.
What the Camera Usually Misses
Most hobbyist photos show the cicada from the side. You see the wings—which are surprisingly clear and vein-heavy—and the red or black eyes depending on whether it’s a periodical or annual species. But the real action is happening underneath. If you get a macro lens and focus on the point of contact between the insect and the tree, you can see the wood fibers actually peeling back.
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It’s violent work.
The pressure required to drive that ovipositor into hardwood is immense. Sometimes, the branch is so small that the "flagging" effect occurs. You might have seen this in your backyard: the tips of oak or maple branches turn brown and die, hanging limply from the tree. That’s not a disease. It’s the result of the cicada’s egg-laying process. She weakens the structural integrity of the twig so much that the sap flow is interrupted. While it looks bad for the tree, it’s actually a natural pruning process that rarely causes long-term harm to a healthy, mature specimen.
The Underground Timer
Once those eggs are tucked away, they stay there for about six to ten weeks. Then, the real "horror movie" part starts. The nymphs hatch. They look like tiny, white, translucent ants. They don't stay in the tree. They crawl out of the slit their mother made and just... fall.
They plummet to the earth.
If they survive the fall, they immediately start digging. They’re looking for roots. They’ll spend the next 13 or 17 years (for periodical broods) or 2 to 5 years (for annual ones) in the dark, drinking xylem fluid from tree roots. When you look at a picture of a female cicada laying eggs, you’re seeing the precise moment the clock starts. It’s the beginning of a decade-plus journey in total darkness.
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Identifying the Players
If you’re trying to identify the insect in your photo, look at the eyes. If they’re bright red and the body is mostly black, you’ve likely caught a Magicicada. These are the famous periodical cicadas. If the insect is larger, greenish, and has dark eyes, it’s probably a "Dog-day" cicada (genus Neotibicen).
The annual ones are solitary. You won’t see millions of them. The periodical ones, however, turn the egg-laying process into a frenzy. During a major emergence, like Brood X, the sheer volume of females laying eggs can sound like a clicking or tapping noise if you stand still long enough in the woods.
Why This Image Matters for Your Garden
People freak out. They see the "sawing" and assume their prize Japanese Maple is toast.
Take a breath.
Unless you just planted a very young sapling with branches thinner than a pinky finger, the tree will be fine. In fact, the "flagging" mentioned earlier can actually encourage more vigorous growth the following year, much like how a gardener prunes a rose bush. However, if you do have young trees, many arborists recommend wrapping them in fine mesh (smaller than 1 cm) during emergence years.
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Don't use pesticides. They don't work well on cicadas because the insects don't actually eat the leaves. They’re just there to mate and for the female to find a spot for her eggs. Spraying your trees just kills the birds and beneficial insects that are currently having a "cicada buffet."
Observation Tips for Photographers
If you want to capture a high-quality picture of a female cicada laying eggs, you need to be patient. They aren't easily spooked once they start the process. The "sawing" takes a lot of concentration and physical effort.
- Wait for the Heat: They are most active when the sun is high.
- Look for "Flagging": Find branches where the tips are starting to droop.
- Check the Underside: They rarely lay eggs on the top of the branch where they’re exposed to predators like Blue Jays.
- Macro Mode: If you’re using a phone, use the macro setting (the little flower icon) to get within 3-4 inches of the ovipositor.
The complexity of this lifecycle is honestly staggering. To think that a tiny slit in a branch, captured in a split-second photo, leads to an organism that will outlive most pet dogs before it even sees the sun again is wild. It’s a slow-motion biological miracle happening in your own backyard.
Next Steps for Property Owners and Nature Lovers
If you've spotted these insects or have a picture of a female cicada laying eggs from your yard, your first priority should be protecting vulnerable young trees. Wrap any saplings with a trunk diameter of less than two inches in "cicada netting" or bird netting with a very fine mesh. Ensure the netting is gathered at the trunk so the insects can't crawl up from the bottom. For mature trees, simply leave them be. The dead "flags" will fall off naturally over the winter, and the nymphs currently heading into your soil will actually help aerate the ground around the root zone for the next several years. If you're a photographer, upload your sightings to apps like iNaturalist or Cicada Safari; these photos help scientists track brood health and the shifting ranges of species due to climate changes.