This is a true story that seemed apocryphal even as it unfolded in front me.
On a windy afternoon in Naperville, with gusts touching 20-plus miles an hour, a sparrow took off from a branch of a maple tree. It had spotted a cicada flying like a whimsical butterfly. Had it been a butterfly, the sparrow may not have bothered considering there is not much body to eat. But a cicada is different. It has a body that is grabbable and protein rich.
It was remarkable how well the cicada was managing to fly in the face of such strong wind. That was until, of course, the sparrow began pursuing it. The dogfight that ensued between the sparrow and the cicada was one of the most captivating scenes that I had witnessed. Their flight was so jerky and unpredictable in defiance of perhaps the whole of aerodynamics.
The two creatures, one ten times the size of the other, flew in a virtually unplottable flight. I stood there transfixed, yet again marveling at the number of parallel worlds that live by us. For about 40 seconds, I watched the two. I could have waited to see how the chase ended but in my perhaps misplaced respect for the dignity of the tiny prey I walked off.
I do not know whether the cicada is dead or alive. If I were to invoke Schrodinger’s cat meant to underscore the absurdity of quantum mechanics, the cicada could be both dead and alive. I will never know.
There is a broader theme to this story. It is about how utterly self-absorbed us humans are, oblivious to so many parallel worlds right here besides us. Even within its terribly short natural lifespan of cicadas, the one I saw was up against both ferocious wind and a fierce predator. So next time when you fixate over who might become prime minister or president, think about this cicada or any cicada for that matter.