This, too, is a cicada question worthy of scholarship. A doctoral thesis, if based on thorough investigation, is surely defensible. I digress, however, so let me return to the topic at hand. Where cicadas tend to concentrate -- If concentrate is the wrong word then we can say congregate. But congregate sounds too hackneyed, so let's go with concentrate. -- Where cicadas tend to concentrate is on sumac trees. The scholarly name for these trees, by the way, is "gotō." At any rate, these sumac trees are excessive in foliage. Each leaf is the size of a flat hand fan. The lush verdure grows so thick as to obscure the branches, making cicada capture all the more challenging. "I hear your voice but see you not." So goes the popular song, and I can't but think it perhaps was written for me. Having no other recourse, I lean on sound as my guide. A short way up from the ground, a sumac tree invariably forks. This affords one a breather, and a chance to scout out, from the shelter of myriad leaves, the whereabouts of one's quarry. There's a certain impetuous lot who, before I've even advanced this far, rustle their wings and beat a hasty retreat. And it's never just one or two. When it comes to blindly following suit, cicadas are no less assinine than humans. One after another, they take to the air. There are times when I work my way up to the fork, only to end up alone in a silent tree. On one such occasion, I arrived at the fork, surveyed all around, perked my ears, yet caught no sign of cicadas. Lacking the energy to start out anew, I decided some rest was in order. Securing my position among the branches, I laid in wait for the next opportunity to present itself. I must have grown drowsy at some point and drifted off into catnap land. Next thing I knew, catnap land was gone, and I'd landed with a thump on the garden flagstones. For the most part, though, my climbing excursions bear fruit. The only downside is that up in the branches I've no choice but to grasp my prey in my teeth. In general, by the time I'm down and able to release my bite, my catch is already expired.