If you were standing in a wooded backyard in Northern Georgia or parts of Long Island back in 2008, you probably remember the noise. It wasn't just a hum. It was a physical weight—a 100-decibel screaming choir that sounded like a fleet of tiny, buzzing UFOs had landed in the oak trees. That was the last time we saw Brood XIV cicadas in Georgia and New York in their full, winged glory. Now, as we get closer to their next scheduled massive arrival in 2025, people are starting to get twitchy.
Is it a plague? Honestly, no. It’s more like a very loud, very weird family reunion that happens once every 17 years.
These aren't your average annual "dog-day" cicadas that pop up every August to signal the end of summer. These are the Magicicada. They are red-eyed, jet-black, and have spent nearly two decades underground sipping on tree root juice like they’re at a 17-year-long happy hour. When they finally decide to tunnel up, they do it by the billions.
The Strange Geography of Brood XIV
One of the most confusing things about Brood XIV cicadas in Georgia and New York is how they manage to bridge such a massive geographical gap. Most periodical broods stay somewhat clustered. Brood XIV is a bit of a rebel. It stretches from the Tennessee border down into the Appalachian foothills of Georgia, then skips and hops all the way up through the Atlantic states into the Hudson Valley and Long Island.
In Georgia, the action usually hits the northern counties—think Fannin, Gilmer, and Union. It’s the high-elevation woods where the soil stays just right. Then you look at New York. You’d think the concrete jungle would scare them off, but Brood XIV has deep roots in places like Suffolk County and parts of the Lower Hudson Valley.
Why the weird distribution?
Glaciers. Basically, thousands of years ago, the moving ice sheets dictated where these insects could survive. As the ice retreated, the cicadas followed the growth of deciduous forests. Because Brood XIV is one of the more expansive broods, it covers about 12 states in total, but Georgia and New York represent the dramatic ends of its primary corridor.
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Why the 17-Year Wait Matters
Nature loves a pattern. But 17 years? That’s a long time to stay in the dark.
Evolutionary biologists like Gene Kritsky, who has spent decades tracking these things, point out that the 17-year cycle is a brilliant survival strategy. It’s all about "predator satiation." If you come out every year, birds and squirrels learn to wait for you. But if you only show up once every 17 years, no predator can synchronize its life cycle to yours.
The cicadas basically overwhelm the system. A bird can only eat so many crunchy insects before it's full. Once the birds are stuffed, there are still nine hundred million cicadas left to lay eggs. It’s a math game. And the cicadas are winning.
What Actually Happens During an Emergence?
It starts with the soil temperature. Once the ground about eight inches down hits 64 degrees Fahrenheit, it’s go-time. Usually, this happens in late April for Georgia and late May or early June for New York.
First, you’ll see the "chimneys." These are little mud tubes the nymphs build as they wait for the perfect moment. Then, in a single night, they crawl out. They find a vertical surface—a tree trunk, a fence post, even your car tire—and split their skins. What emerges is a soft, white, vulnerable adult. Within hours, their wings harden, they turn black, and the screaming begins.
The "song" is actually a mating call produced by the males using membranes called tymbals. It’s loud. In heavy infestation areas of Brood XIV cicadas in Georgia and New York, the noise can actually cause hearing damage if you’re standing right under a swarm for too long.
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Common Misconceptions (They Aren't Locusts)
People always call them locusts. They aren't.
Locusts are basically grasshoppers on steroids that eat every green thing in sight. Cicadas don't have chewing mouthparts. They have a straw-like beak. They aren't here to eat your garden or destroy your crops. The only real "damage" they do is through a process called "flagging."
The females use a sharp organ called an ovipositor to slit tiny grooves in the tips of tree branches where they lay their eggs. This can cause the very ends of the branches to turn brown and snap. For an old, established oak tree in the Georgia mountains, this is just a natural pruning. For a brand-new sapling you just planted in your Long Island front yard, it can be a death sentence.
The Georgia Experience vs. The New York Experience
In Georgia, the emergence feels more rural. You’ll hear them in the Chattahoochee National Forest, a constant throb of sound that echoes through the valleys. It’s part of the mountain atmosphere.
New York is a different beast. Because Long Island is so densely populated, the emergence feels more intrusive. You’ll find them on your porch, in your pool filters, and crunching under your tires in the driveway. In 2008, some residents in New York reported that the smell of decaying cicadas after the four-week mating cycle was almost unbearable. It’s a lot of biomass to rot at once.
Preparing for the Next Wave
So, what should you do if you live in the path of Brood XIV cicadas in Georgia and New York?
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First, don't spray pesticides. It’s useless. There are too many of them, and the chemicals will hurt the birds and beneficial insects way more than the cicadas.
If you have young trees, buy some bird netting with holes smaller than 1 centimeter. Wrap the canopies tightly and tie them off at the trunk. This prevents the females from reaching the delicate branches to lay eggs. You want to do this before they emerge, usually by mid-April in the South and mid-May in the North.
Pet owners should also keep an eye out. Cicadas aren't toxic, but they are made of a tough material called chitin. If your dog decides to treat the backyard like an all-you-can-eat shrimp buffet, they’re probably going to end up with a very upset stomach or a blockage.
Immediate Action Steps for Homeowners
- Audit your trees: Identify any saplings planted within the last three years. These are the ones at risk.
- Check the calendar: If you are planning an outdoor wedding or graduation party in North Georgia or Long Island for the late spring/early summer of an emergence year, maybe move it indoors or get a very loud sound system.
- Clear the drains: Cicada carcasses can clog gutters and pool drains. Make sure you’re checking these weekly during the peak of the event.
- Embrace the weirdness: This is one of the rarest biological events on the planet. It only happens in this part of the world.
The most important thing to remember is that they are temporary. They show up, they make a massive racket, they provide a massive protein boost to the local ecosystem, and then they vanish for another 17 years. By the time they come back again, the toddlers of today will be graduating college. It’s a reminder that while our lives move fast, nature has a much slower, much louder clock.
Stay alert for soil temperature updates from local university extension offices. When that 64-degree mark hits, you’ll have about 24 hours before the first nymphs break the surface. If you’re in a high-density area, make sure your netting is secure and your lawnmower is ready—sometimes the vibration of the mower actually attracts them, as they think it's a giant, super-powered cicada calling for a mate.