Cicadas

Mitsuhiko Takada

President of Omi Keio Club, Professor at Ryukoku University, 1979 Faculty of Letters

Summer mornings at shrines begin with the sound of cicadas. "Semimaru"—this gentleman with the unusual name was a Heian-period poet and renowned biwa master. He is said to have been either a prince of Emperor Daigo or a zoshiki (attendant) to Prince Atsumi, the son of Emperor Uda. Semimaru Shrine, which enshrines Semimaru as the ancestral deity of the performing arts, is located near the Osaka Barrier (Osaka no Seki) along the old Tokaido road connecting Otsu and the capital of Kyoto. During the Edo period, it oversaw itinerant preachers and performers from various provinces and issued licenses to perform across the country, making it a bustling hub for many involved in the arts.

In recent years, the shrine buildings of Semimaru Shrine have suffered severe damage. In 2015, the "Seki Semimaru Performing Arts Festival" was launched in hopes of restoration. This year marks the 1,200th anniversary of the shrine's founding, and last year, volunteers launched a crowdfunding campaign to raise 30 million yen for repair costs. It is an initiative where local people have united for the shrine's restoration, sparked by the singular art mastered by the man named Semimaru. However, only about 7 million yen has been raised so far. The situation is extremely difficult.

Semimaru-san might be shouting from the shrine: "Can't we do something about the remaining 23 million yen?!"

Yoshiyuki Kobayashi

Executive Officer and CSO of Curio Inc., 1986 Faculty of Science and Technology, 1988 Master's in Science and Technology

The season has arrived where the cries of cicadas reach even me, someone who is not fond of insects. During the walks I started during the COVID-19 pandemic, there are days when I am startled to find their empty shells (sloughs).

Cicadas spend anywhere from three to nearly twenty years underground. Their sloughs are proof of a successful emergence, and in the world of feng shui, they are apparently treated as lucky items. Let us take a look at these cicada sloughs, which also appeared in a recent Taiga drama.

In the world of Kampo medicine, cicada sloughs are called "Sentai" and have long been used as a crude drug with effects such as relieving itching, reducing fever, and strengthening the immune system. Examining the components, it turns out they are made of a substance called chitin, which consists of many linked glucosamine molecules, similar to the shells of crustaceans like crabs and shrimp. This is the same glucosamine familiar from TV commercials. In fact, this glucosamine and chitin are the primary raw materials for the anti-influenza drugs currently used in the market. It is a mysterious relationship that a treatment for influenza—a synonym for winter—can be made from cicada sloughs, a staple of summer.

Takashi Torii

In summer, Hiyoshi is filled with a chorus of cicadas. The main performers are the Large Brown Cicada and the Robust Cicada; depending on the season, the Walker's Cicada takes over, and in the evening, the Evening Cicada takes center stage. It was four years ago that I collected the Kaempfer Cicada, which is in decline. As the head of the Biology Research Club, I often collected cicadas and other insects with students in Mamushi-dani.

For many readers, memories of cicadas likely involve their cries and catching them as children, but for me, it is different. This is because I hold a doctorate in insect systematic taxonomy. While my specialty is not cicadas, in the comparative morphology of all insects, I have explored the various body parts of various insects, including cicadas, in detail. I will write about their wings. Insect wings have many lines. These are called wing veins, and in principle, every single one has a name. Countless patterns exist in the branching, merging, and length ratios of each vein, serving as keys to identifying species and exploring relationships. When I teach this to students who chose wing veins for their graduation research while having them observe the wings of an Evening Cicada, they are all amazed.

Forty years have passed since I began focusing on insects, and before I knew it, I will reach retirement age next spring. However, my research into insect taxonomy will likely continue for a lifetime. I think this as I listen to the grand chorus of cicadas.

昆虫を見つめて40年の歳月が過ぎ、気が付けば来春は定年である。だが昆虫分類の研究は生涯続くのであろう。セミの大合唱を聞きつつ、そう思う。

Associate Professor at the Faculty of Business and Commerce, Keio University

"Jee-wa, jee-wa, jee-wa, jee-wa"

In the sloped green spaces of Tokyo Metropolitan University (Hachioji) where I spent my student days, the grand chorus of the Princess Cicada would suddenly begin at summer twilight. The males of this species have a habit of singing in synchronization, creating a strange illusion as if the entire oak forest is pulsating and singing.

As a graduation research student, I would collect various insects in this forest day and night and bring them back to the laboratory. This was because the assistant professor at the time, who was my practical supervisor, was looking at the sperm of every possible insect under a microscope.

Interestingly, the sperm of the cicada family are not passed to the female individually, but in a state like a "nawa-noren" (rope curtain), neatly arranged on a long rope of protein. Since the rope is digested by the female, it may serve as nutrition, but nothing more is known beyond that.

I learned the fun and importance of observing a wide variety of living things, as well as the difficulty of solving mysteries. About a quarter-century has passed since then, and that professor is nearing retirement, but I wonder if the chorus of the Princess Cicada can still be heard this year.

幅広く様々な生き物を眺めることの面白さと大切さ、そして、謎解きの難しさを知った。あれから約4半世紀、かの先生は定年を迎えようとしているが、ヒメハルゼミの合唱は今年も聞こえるのだろうか。