



LIFE IN THE LOWER SUSQUEHANNA RIVER WATERSHED
A Natural History of Conewago Falls—The Waters of Three Mile Island





During the past week, we’ve been on a road trip seeking to score a hat trick—records of three particular species of flying creatures best found in our vicinity on the Atlantic Coastal Plain of the Delmarva Peninsula. Our excursion led us to the seaside environs of Cape Henlopen State Park at the mouth of Delaware Bay.
So just what were these three species we so eagerly sought?
Were they the three gulls we found scavenging the beaches and marshes for the remains of some expired mollusk, crustacean, or fish?



Always fun to watch, but no, they weren’t the reason for our visit.
How about the four heron and egret species observed in the tidal marsh and at the park’s Gordon’s Pond; that’s even better than a hat trick, right?




Not bad, but nope, it wasn’t the herons and egrets.
Well, then it must be the shorebirds; yeah, it has got to be the shorebirds?

Very nice, but it wasn’t the shorebirds either.
What about the three appearances of the Clapper Rail in the tidal marsh?

Now we’re reaching. No, it wasn’t the Clapper Rail’s numerous appearances.
The term “hat trick” has its origins in the game of cricket. A hurler upon retiring three batsmen with three consecutive balls was gifted a new hat. The three species we were seeking are, coincidentally, related to the insects called crickets. Our true goal was to track down the three species of annual cicadas known to emerge, sing, and breed during the late summer on the Atlantic Coastal Plain. None of these species are known to breed in the lower Susquehanna valley, but all are potential vagrants. We were quite fortunate to find all three singing in the vicinity of our temporary susquehannawildlife.net headquarters. During our numerous forays in the area, we were able to obtain sound and image records of two. To our disappointment though, the Northern Dusk-singing Cicada (Megatibicen grossus), a species nearing the end of its summer-season breeding flight, eluded our efforts to get a clear sound sample or photograph. But then again, two out of three ain’t bad.
The Coastal Scissor Grinder (Neotibicen latifasciatus), a species of subclimax maritime forests…

Davis’ Southeastern Dog-day Cicada (Neotibicen davisi), a species of long-needle pine forests…

To learn more about these and other regional cicadas, be certain to visit our cicadas page by clicking the “Cicadas” tab at the top of this page. Once there, you’ll now find sound recordings of thirteen species of periodical and annual cicadas regularly found in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed or adjacent portions of the Atlantic Coastal Plain including Delmarva. Take a listen.

It looks irresistible—doesn’t it? To members of the gasoline and gunpowder gang and for exuberant youthful wannabes, this puddle alongside a forest road has “let’s go muddin'” written all over it. It’s an opportunity to rev ‘er up and slash on through to lay waste to those placid waters while draping the car, truck, cycle, or ATV with gobs of soggy slop. It’s an act of spectacular courage that afterward deserves a lap among one’s peers to display the cakes of dried muck worn as decorations of honor.








Knowing what you now know, how could you ever go crashing through a rain pool again? You wouldn’t want to leave your mother worrying that she raised an eternally adolescent jackass, would you? Or worse yet, a sociopath? After all, you’d never drive up on a sidewalk full of puppies, would you?



Uncle Tyler Dyer wants to know, “What happened to all the butterflies. Man, I’m worried. I’m seeing just one or two of the common species, but not in anywhere near the numbers we usually see by this time of year.” His question is a rhetorical one. He understands the contributing factors that have conspired to diminish, fragment, and even eliminate populations of butterflies and other insects throughout much of the lower Susquehanna valley.
Here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, we’ve observed but four or five species this year, and only several individuals of each. Despite our efforts to devote every square inch of available space in our gardens and pools to plants that benefit butterflies and other insects, we can only do so much. Much like other areas of the region, our compact parcel is surrounded by more and more pavement, manicured lawn, and properties planted with commercially produced ornamentals cultivated to look good, grow fast, and not attract “insect pests”. To butterflies, the land beyond our little border is a desert.
Among human habitations where there may sometimes be an effort to provide nectar for pollinators including adult butterflies, the surrounding landscape still remains largely composed mostly of asphalt, cement, mowed turf, and tanbark-covered ground that offers few if any host plants for butterfly eggs and caterpillars, and no winter cover for our resident species. In the farmlands, herbicide-tolerant crops treated with systemic insecticides are grown on ground sterilized against the emergence of any potential butterfly host species—no mustards, milkweeds, native grasses, violets, or indigenous legumes. Just look at that barren ag ground in January, no butterfly survives there.
Application of herbicides and insecticides is more widespread than you might think. Few plots of ground in proximity to human activity experience a year without use of at least one dose of a pesticide. Along the highway, in the field, on the lawn, in the trees, across the forest, in the soil, on the water, around the garden, about the house—it’s pure poison to insects and/or their host plants and they don’t survive it.


Here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, our most common butterfly this summer has been the Monarch. Considering the numeric loses this species has experienced in recent years, its good news for the Monarchs but not so great news for the butterflies we typically see in good numbers and have not.
While their wintering habitat in Mexico faces potentially catastrophic loses due to clandestine logging and other criminal activity, Monarchs do have an advantage once they come north to breed. While other butterflies mate and deposit eggs close to where they themselves were hatched and completed their metamorphosis into adults, each in the succession of each year’s several generations of Monarchs will roam widely in search of suitable stands of milkweed upon which they can lay their eggs.

Other than in the few scattered places where habitat is managed for them, butterflies and other insects don’t fare well in proximity to human activity. This is especially true in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed where an already neat and tidy culture has become obsessed with a cleared landscape and thus compulsively sprays, mows, whacks, and cuts away at the habitat critical to the survival of hundreds, maybe thousands, of species of these indispensable invertebrates. Take a walk or a drive and look around. Other than a hanging basket of flowers that may or may not have been treated with poisonous neonicotinoids, there’s no place for a butterfly, let alone its progeny, to survive. Just listen…that motorized, grinding racket outside is the sound of butterfly habitat being destroyed, April through November, day after day, year after year.
As for Uncle Ty, he’s putting in a little more effort. Scattered sanctuaries for butterflies aren’t going to save them from the wholesale fragmentation of their habitat that has been intensifying in recent years. Less than 1% of landowners actually rewild property or manage at the ecosystem level, so more must get involved. Uncle Ty asked us to pass along this guide to Butterfly Habitat Management from the United States Department of Agriculture’s Natural Resources Conservation Service. He’s used tips from the publication for years and highly recommends the list of host plants it includes.


Today, after a wait of about a month, we finally began hearing the belated trills, whines, and rattles of notable numbers of annual cicadas. During the day’s excursions, we identified the songs of each of the five species commonly encountered in the lower Susquehanna valley, but were especially surprised to photograph and make a sound recording of something we had previously failed to observe well enough to identify in detail.




No, this is not an account chronicling a British invasion, especially during the month we celebrate the country’s 250th anniversary of its separation from commonwealth rule. This is instead a short introduction to some of the numerous regional insects of the order Coleoptera.
Globally, there are somewhere between 300,000 and 2 million or more species of beetles, depending on who’s doing the enumerating. A commonly settled upon number is 400,000, which makes beetles account for about 40% of the known insect species and 25% of the animals in the world. In the United States, there are almost 30,000 species.
Morphological variation among individuals in a population of beetles is easily observed. These differences often manifest into adaptations that provide a survival advantage and speciation. It therefore comes as no surprise that beetles were among the life forms studied by Charles Darwin as he pondered natural selection and preparation of The Origin of Species.

If it’s organic, living or dead, a beetle has probably become specially adapted to fill the role of reducing it or consuming it. Beetles are indispensable members of the ecosystems they inhabit. Many function as scavengers, breaking down dead plants or animals into the basic nutrients that renew life. There are those that consume rotting wood, dung, and carrion. Sometimes they eat these things when people would rather they didn’t—such as moist wood that’s part of a house. Then there are species of beetles that are herbivores, consuming parts of the plants that get their energy directly from the sun. There are beetles that eat stems, roots, leaves, buds, flowers, nectar, sap, seeds, and fruit—many specializing in particular plant species or families. Some of these herbivorous primary consumers come to our attention because their populations explode in response to our creation of monocultures of their favored food, but many more act as pollinators for plants critical to human survival. Linnaean Society treasurer Rathvon made these herbivore-plant relationships the focus of many of his nineteenth-century writings, particularly as they affected agriculture. On the upper trophic levels, there are the predatory beetles that feed on herbivores or other carnivores. Many of these species have narrowed their choice of prey to one or fewer species. For example, there is a beetle that feeds only on the subterranean nymphs of cicadas.

Ladies and gentlemen, the beetles…

















If sprinkles of pepper are the only black specks you care to find in your potato salad, and if the only thing you want in your pants is you, then having a swarm of ants visit your outdoor feast is out of the question. During our recent multi-day foray afield, ants were just a cupcake’s throw away, but none dared to scurry out from their hiding place to invade our spread. Fortunately for us, the local anteater was on duty, snatching them up whenever they came into sight—and sometimes before.









Balmy evenings and rising stream temperatures are yielding some sizeable flights of mayflies collectively known as sulfurs. These nuptial displays are most conspicuous as swarms attracted to bright lights near the waterways where the aquatic nymphs spent the past year or more before emerging to take wing for their brief period of adulthood. During the past two nights here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, we’ve noted what appear to be three different species of these tiny sulfurs gathering on the walls and doors below entry lamps. Each is referred to by anglers using the common name “Pale Evening Dun”.






Month-by-month and week-by-week changes in water temperatures and other stream parameters trigger the date-specific emergence of flights of particular species of mayflies from the lotic waters where they spend a year or more feeding and growing as substrate-dwelling nymphs. For each individual mayfly, these nuptial flights are only days in duration and include a molt from the sub-adult (subimago or dun) stage to the adult (imago or spinner) stage. Mayflies do not feed during these flights, their sole intention is to mate and reproduce. Conspicuous transitions of large numbers of nymphal mayflies into flying sub-adults are often referred to as “hatches”. So, what’s hatching right now? As local streams reach the upper sixties and seventies, we’ve noticed this mayfly gathering on walls and windows illuminated by man-made light, sometimes a half mile distant from the waterway where they spent the past year or more as a nymph before first taking flight…



As they travel between coastal wintering ranges and breeding territories in Canada and Alaska, vast numbers of shorebirds pass through the lower Susquehanna region each spring and fall—though few stop here to rest, feed, and provide us with an opportunity to observe them. Prior to the construction of man-made dams and other alterations on our lotic (flowing) waterways including the river, shorebirds took advantage of lateral bars, stream deltas, and other alluvial deposits as places to loaf and re-energize. Before they were drained and filled, some of the valley’s wetlands probably included sparsely vegetated flats where shorebirds could drop in for a brief visit. Previous to their extirpation from our region, North American Beavers were the primary providers of quality habitat for shorebirds and other migrating waders on our lotic waters. Their widespread network of dams, pools, and marshes maximized floodplain function by keeping streams thoroughly connected to their wetlands, nurturing plant communities that not only provided food and shelter for the beavers and other wildlife, but provided superb buffering against erosion while protecting against sediment and nutrient imbalances in lower Susquehanna waterways.








So how did this happen? How did the North American Beaver become a keystone species—an animal upon which the majority of other life forms within its ecosystem are so reliant? Well, it’s largely due to the fact that our beavers aren’t particularly fond of a constant stream of noise. More specifically, they don’t like the sound of running water in places where they intend to build and maintain a lodge. And so, as they begin to place sticks, mud, limbs, stones, and other materials within a noisy riffle on a stream, they create a dam, and behind it a pool—a pool that is particularly advantageous for protecting their home and providing a means of conveyance for their construction materials and food supplies.











While North American Beavers have returned to the region, most live as “bank beavers”, residing in the river and larger creeks of the valley where they excavate shelters among the roots of Black Willows and other shoreline trees and shrubs. Floodplain encroachment, legacy sediment deposits, and just plain human intolerance have all conspired to prohibit North American Beavers from performing their magic on smaller local streams. For migrating shorebirds, this continued absence of beaver dam ecosystems has turned much of the lower Susquehanna valley into “flyover country”. Those travelers that do stop to rest and feed concentrate at the few favorable locations such as the lateral bars and the hydroelectric dam-created delta at the Conejohela Flats on the river in Lancaster County. But centralization has its drawbacks. Migrants spending time at concentration points may have a greater chance of contracting and spreading disease. Protracted heavy foraging can degrade these habitats. And over time, features such the lateral bars and delta deposits, including those on the Conejohela Flats, transition into other habitats—riparian forests. A more widespread selection of favorable stopover points for shorebirds, waders, waterfowl, and other migrants is certainly desirable.
IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FORM OF FLATTERY
Until public sentiment sways in favor of the North American Beaver, wildlife managers are mimicking some of the attributes of their sound-inspired installations.

Shallow-water conservation impoundments designed, constructed, and managed for migratory waterfowl and waders including shorebirds are not what we typically refer to as ponds—though they are lentic (still) waters. Similar shallow freshwater impoundments at our National Wildlife Refuges are referred to as pools by the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, but smaller versions like this example at Middle Creek very closely resemble the prairie potholes created by glacial scour in the north-central United States and adjacent portions of Canada. Many populations of migratory birds are familiar with pothole ecosystems and, like the beaver pools and marshes, have relied upon them as waypoints along their journeys for centuries.


You’ve heard the line, “If you build it, they will come.” Well, it’s true. Here is a sample of the activity witnessed during the past two weeks at the new impoundment completed just several months ago at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area along the tour route just beyond the “Stop 3” overlook.






















Species of wildlife in addition to shorebirds and waterfowl have already found the new impoundment favorable…










Managing saturation levels in shallow-water impoundments to resemble the seasonal variations in beaver pool and marsh systems can create lush growth and wildlife-rich environments. Take a look at some images from a project in a headwaters area of a tributary to Conewago Creek (west)…







So that you can relax while observing the comings and goings at a pair of the lower Susquehanna valley’s man-made impoundments, the Pennsylvania Game Commission has erected two viewing pavilions for public use on its lands…




During the next two weeks, the exodus of migrating shorebirds now staged and feeding upon Atlantic Horseshoe Crab eggs on Delaware Bay will commence. During the evening of their departure from the bay, many of these birds cross portions of the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, particularly east of the river. Stormy weather and other climatic conditions may force some of them to seek a place to put down temporarily, so keeping a close eye on the new pothole-like impoundment at Middle Creek may be a prudent move. After that, waders known as “post-breeding wanderers” can show up at any time. Then, beginning as early as late June, shorebirds begin moving south on a migration that can provide us with viewing opportunities into September and beyond. See you out there!



We frequently perceive all waterfowl migration to be synchronized with the conspicuous movements of familiar species like Snow Geese, Tundra Swans, and Canada Geese—big flights coming south in October and November, then a return to the north in late February and March. And we’re all quite aware of the occurrence of large gatherings of some of these migrants while they make stopovers on some of our largest lentic (still) waters—the man-made lakes and reservoirs created by damming local streams. But did you know that there are populations of colorful waterfowl with dynamic migrations that extend throughout the winter and early spring with movements that are often continuous. Under favorable conditions, these birds favor the lotic (flowing) waters of the river and its larger tributaries as they transit the lower Susquehanna valley. That’s because unpolluted lotic freshwater ecosystems support a greater diversity of plants and animals than lentic waters, and therefore offer more opportunities for hungry migrating waterfowl to find food. Let’s have a look at some of the species that visit the river during their seasonal journeys…

















Prior to the nineteenth century, the low-gradient flow regime of the river both above and below the riffles at Chiques/Chickies Rock (lower right on map) created prime wildlife habitat. The natural accumulations of nutrients and substrates carried into and through the lotic waterway’s pools and riffles were cycled into an ideal growing medium for extensive mats of American Eelgrass and other aquatic plants. This underwater forest hosted a seemingly endless abundance of invertebrates and fishes (both resident and migratory)—supporting a variety of consumer species including various populations of humans. But soon after the mass clearing of much of the watershed’s land for farming and lumber, the mill ponds created by dams constructed on streams to power saw and grain mills became brimful with sediments eroded from the unprotected ground. During storm events, torrents of these sediments then flowed full bore toward the Susquehanna, and began accumulating in the low-gradient segments of the river.












Despite being located in the transfer zone, the lower Susquehanna has become a significant depositional zone along much of its length, mostly courtesy of the placement of sediment-trapping man-made dams.
Following construction of the mill dams and ponds on nearly every mile of the lower Susquehanna’s low-gradient tributary streams, enterprising parties moved on to the river. The first significant spans were constructed using wide timber cribs filled with large rock. They were placed to create water deep enough to allow canal boats to cross the Susquehanna at both Clark’s Ferry at the mouth of the Juniata River in Dauphin County and at Columbia/Wrightsville. These dams also diverted water into the newly excavated canals—the Pennsylvania Eastern Division Canal (completed in 1833) which followed the river’s east shore from Clark’s Ferry to Columbia, and the Susquehanna and Tidewater Canal (completed in 1840) along the west shore from Wrightsville to Havre de Grace, Maryland. Placement of these sediment-trapping man-made dams began a process of converting vast mileage of the lower Susquehanna from a transfer zone into a deposition zone. In addition, layout of the canals and locks followed the contours along the base of the riverside ridges, seriously altering most of the alluvial terrace wetlands that the river had created as a feature of its floodplain during the post-glacial period.
Construction of the canal dams was just the beginning. During the twentieth century, more massive dams would be added to the main stem of the river for hydroelectric energy production at York Haven, Safe Harbor, Holtwood, and Conowingo. Upon their completion, the days of unassisted anadromous fish migrations were over. On both the river and its tributaries, smaller dams including dangerous low-head dams maintain water levels for boating and recreation. They too create current-diminishing, pseudo-lentic waters that blanket the lotic riffle and pool substrates with polluted sediments.
MAN-MADE DAMS TURN LOTIC WATERS INTO UNFLUSHED TOILETS



Dredging of sections of the lower Susquehanna for spilled, discarded, and washed-out anthracite coal sediment went on for nearly 100 years and was a particularly active enterprise in the Harrisburg area and in Lake Clarke until 1973. The recurrent substrate disturbances that accompanied waste coal recovery in these segments of the river repetitively damaged habitat for benthic life and may have been the catastrophic factor leading to the extirpation of two species of freshwater mussels: the Eastern Lampmussel (Lampsilis radiata) and the Dwarf Wedgemussel (Alasmidonta heterodon).








DID YOU KNOW that a dairy cow produces about 80 pounds of waste (excrement and urine) every day?
DID YOU KNOW that a horse produces about 50 pounds of waste (excrement and urine) every day?
DID YOU KNOW that a human produces about 3 to 4 pounds of waste (excrement and urine) every day? The exceptions, of course, are those who continue to insist that raising farm animals in and alongside a body of water is okey-doke—a harmless practice. These individuals tend to retain the former constituent of human waste and are thus full of it.


DID YOU KNOW that even before the landscape was cleared for farms and a supply of timber, and before mill dams on local creeks began accumulating soil runoff from the consequently barren hillsides, all the North American Beavers, the keystone species of lower Susquehanna stream ecology, were killed and sold to make hats? It’s no wonder things are fubar!





As we begin the second half of October, frosty nights have put an end to choruses of annual cicadas in the lower Susquehanna valley. Though they are gone for yet another year, they are not forgotten. Here’s an update on one of our special finds in 2025.
During late June of 1863, the beginning of the third summer of the American Civil War, there was great consternation among the populous of the lower Susquehanna region. Hoping to bring about Union capitulation and an end to the conflict, General Robert E. Lee and his 70,000-man Army of Northern Virginia were marching north into the passes and valleys on the west side of the river. The uncontested Confederate advances posed an immediate threat to Pennsylvania’s capital in Harrisburg and cities to the east. Marching north in pursuit of Lee was the First Corps of the Army of the Potomac, the lead element of the 100,000-man Union force under the direction of newly appointed commander General George G. Meade.
Upon belatedly learning of Meade’s pursuit, Lee hastily ordered the widely separated corps of his army to concentrate on the crossroads town of Gettysburg. As the southern army’s Third Corps under General A. P. Hill approached Gettysburg from the west, they were met by Union cavalry under the leadership of General John Buford. Dismounted and formed up south to north across the Chambersburg Pike, Buford’s men held off Confederate infantry until relieved by the arrival of the Union First Corps. As he deployed his men, the First Corps’ commander, General John F. Reynolds of Lancaster, was struck by a bullet and killed.


If you visit the Gettysburg battlefield, you can find the General John C. Robinson monument at the site of his division’s first-day position along Doubleday Avenue at Robinson Avenue near the Eternal Light Peace Memorial. But that’s not the Robinson we went to Gettysburg to see.
Following up on our sight and mostly sound experiences with some Robinson’s Cicadas, an annual species of singing insect we found thriving at Gifford Pinchot State Park in York County, Pennsylvania, during late July, we spent some time searching out other locations where this native invader from the southern United States could be occurring in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed.
During mid-August, we stumbled upon a population of Robinson’s Cicadas east of the Susquehanna in the Conewago Creek (east) watershed in Londonderry Township, Dauphin County, and made some sound recordings.
After pondering this latest discovery, we decided to investigate places with habitat characteristics similar to those at both the new Londonderry Township and the earlier Gifford Pinchot State Park locations—successional growth with extensive stands of Eastern Red Cedar on the Piedmont’s Triassic Gettysburg Formation “redbeds”. We headed south towards known populations of Robinson’s Cicadas in Virginia and Maryland to look for suitable sites within Pennsylvania that might bridge the range gap.
Our search was a rapid success. On State Game Lands 249 in the Conewago Creek (west) watershed in Adams County, we found Robinson’s Cicadas to be widespread.


Following our hunch that these lower Susquehanna Robinson’s Cicadas extended their range north through the cedar thickets of the Gettysburg Basin as opposed to hopping the Appalachians from a population reported to inhabit southwest Pennsylvania, we made our way to the battlefield and surrounding lands. We found Robinson’s Cicadas to be quite common and widespread in these areas, even occurring in the town of Gettysburg itself.




Just as we were very pleased last month to have the opportunity to hear the sounds of the rarest of the Periodical Cicadas—the Little Seventeen-year Cicada—in the Conewago Hills of York County to thus provide our only record of the species during the Brood XIV emergence in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, we were this week delighted to find and record a population of what may be the valley’s rarest cicada experiencing annual flights—the Robinson’s Cicada—just a few miles away at Gifford Pinchot State Park.
Like the Little Seventeen-year Cicada, Robinson’s Cicada (Neotibicen robinsonianus) is a species found more commonly in the southern United States, occurring with scattered distribution in a range that extends west into Missouri, Kansas, and Texas. They are of rare occurrence in the lands of the Chesapeake drainage basin in Virginia and Maryland.


The Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, and Gifford Pinchot State Park in particular, may currently represent the northern limit of the geographic range of the Robinson’s Cicada. If you’re in the area during the coming weeks, drop by the park and have a listen. And don’t forget to check out our “Cicadas” page for sound clips of all the species found in our area.
It begins on a sunny morning in spring each year, just as the ground temperature reaches sixty degrees or more…








Of course, termites aren’t the only groups of insects to swarm. As heated runoff from slow-moving thundershowers has increased stream temperatures during the past couple of weeks, there have occurred a number of seasonal mayfly “hatches” on the Susquehanna and its tributaries. These “hatches” are actually the nuptial flights of newly emerged imago and adult mayflies. The most conspicuous of these is the Great Brown Drake.

Swarms of another storm-related visitor are being seen throughout the lower Susquehanna valley right now. Have you noticed the Wandering Gliders?






While the heat and humidity of early summer blankets the region, Brood XIV Periodical Cicadas are wrapping up their courtship and breeding cycle for 2025. We’ve spent the past week visiting additional sites in and near the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed where their emergence is evident.
We begin in York County just to the west of the river and Conewago Falls in mostly forested terrain located just southeast of Gifford Pinchot State Park. Within this area, often called the Conewago Hills, a very localized population of cicadas could be heard in the woodlands surrounding the scattered homes along Bull Road. Despite the dominant drone of an abundance of singing Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas, we were able to hear and record the courtship song of a small number of the rare Little Seventeen-year Cicadas. Their lawn sprinkler-like pulsating songs help mate-seeking males penetrate the otherwise overwhelming chorus of the Pharaoh cicadas in the area.


From the Conewago Hills we moved northwest into the section of southern Cumberland County known as South Mountain. Here, Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas were widespread in ridgetop forests along the Appalachian Trail, particularly in the area extending from Long Mountain in the east through Mount Holly to forests south of King’s Gap Environmental Education Center in the west.

While on South Mountain, we opted for a side trip into the neighboring Potomac watershed of Frederick County, Maryland, where these hills ascend to greater altitude and are known as the Blue Ridge Mountains, a name that sticks with them all the way through Shenandoah National Park, the Great Smoky Mountains, and to their southern terminus in northwestern Georgia. We found a fragmented emergence of Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas atop the Catoctin Mountain section of the Blue Ridge just above the remains of Catoctin Furnace, again on lands that had been timbered to make charcoal to fuel iron production prior to their protection as vast expanses of forest.


Back in Pennsylvania, we’re on our way to the watersheds of the northernmost tributaries of the lower Susquehanna’s largest tributary, the Juniata River. There, we found Brood XIV cicadas more widespread and in larger numbers than occurred at previous sites. Both Pharaoh and Cassin’s Periodical Cicadas were seen and heard along Jack’s Mountain and the Kishacoquillas Creek north of Lewistown/Burnham in Mifflin County. To the north of the Kishacoquillas Valley and Stone Mountain in northernmost Huntingdon County, the choruses of the two species were again widespread, particularly along the forest edges in Greenwood Furnace State Park, Rothrock State Forest, and adjacent areas of the Standing Stone Creek watershed.





Within the last 48 hours, we visited one last location in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed where Brood XIV Periodical Cicadas have emerged during 2025. In the anthracite coal country of Northumberland County, a flight of Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas is nearing its end. We found them to be quite abundant in forested areas of Zerbe Run between Big and Little Mountains around Trevorton and on the wooded slopes of Mahanoy Mountain south of nearby Shamokin. Line Mountain south of Gowen City had a substantial emergence as well.





To chart our travels, we’ve put together this map plotting the occurrence of significant flights of Periodical Cicadas during the 2025 emergence. Unlike the more densely distributed Brood X cicadas of 2021, the range of Brood XIV insects is noticeably fragmented, even in areas that are forested. We found it interesting how frequently we found Brood XIV cicadas on lands used as sources of lumber to make charcoal for fueling nineteenth-century iron furnace operations.

Well, that’s a wrap. Please don’t forget to check out our new Cicadas page by clicking the “Cicadas” tab at the top of this page. Soon after the Periodical Cicadas are gone, the annual cicadas will be emerging and our page can help you identify the five species found regularly in the lower Susquehanna valley. ‘Til next time, keep buzzing!
Here are some sights and sounds from the ongoing emergence of Brood XIV Periodical Cicadas in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed.
We begin in the easternmost spur of the lower basin where a sizeable emergence of cicadas can be seen and heard in the woodlands surrounding the headwaters of the Conestoga River in Berks County north of Morgantown. This flight extends east into Chester County and the French Creek drainage of the Schuylkill River watershed on State Game Lands 43 north of Elverson and consists of Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas (Magicicada septendecim), the most common species among 17-year broods.












From Route 82 north of Elverson to the west through the forested areas along Route 10 north of Morgantown and the Pennsylvania Turnpike, we found an abundance of Cassin’s Periodical Cicadas (Magicicada cassini) calling among the Pharaohs. This mix of Pharaoh and Cassin’s Periodical Cicadas extends west along the north side of the turnpike into Lancaster County and State Game Lands 52 on Black Creek north of Churchtown.






Further west in Cornwall, Lebanon County, a Brood XIV emergence can be found on similar forested terrain: the Triassic hills of the Newark Basin—rich in iron ore and renowned for furnace operations during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas were the only species heard among this population that extends from Route 72 east through the woodlands along Route 322 into the northern edge of State Game Lands 156 in Lancaster County.
On the west side of the Susquehanna, yet another isolated population of Brood XIV Periodical Cicadas can be found in Perry County, just south of Duncannon on State Game Lands 170 on the slopes of “Cove Mountain”, the canoe-shaped convergence of the western termini of Peters and Second Mountains.
Pharaoh Periodical Cicadas dominated this Perry County chorus,…
…but we did detect at least one Cassin’s Cicada trying to find a mate.

Not to say they aren’t present, but we have yet to detect the rarest species, Magicicada septendecula, the “Little Seventeen-year Cicada”, among the various populations of Brood XIV Periodical Cicadas emerging in the lower Susquehanna valley. For the coming two weeks or so until this brood is gone for another 17 years, the search continues.
For more on both annual and periodical cicada species in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, be sure to click the “Cicadas” tab at the top of this page!
With temperatures finally climbing to seasonable levels and with stormy sun filtering through the yellow-brown smoke coming our way courtesy of wildfires in Alberta and other parts of central Canada, we ventured out to see what might be basking in our local star’s refracted rays…












Its been four years to the day since we posted our account of the big Brood X Periodical Cicada flight of 2021 in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed. With the Brood XIV clan of 17-year Periodical Cicadas getting ready fill the June air with their choruses in scattered parts of Pennsylvania’s Berks, Centre, Clinton, Franklin, Huntingdon, Juniata, Lancaster, Mifflin, Perry, Schuylkill, Snyder, Union, and York Counties right now, we thought it an appropriate time to open a new “Cicada” page here on the website. Included is a list of both the annually and periodically emerging species found in the lower Susquehanna valley, as well as a copy of the article and ID photos from the 2021 occurrence of Brood X. In coming months, we’ll be adding photos and maybe some sound clips of the different annual cicadas as well, so remember to check back from time to time for more content.

In the short term, we’re going to pay a visit to the Brood XIV territory and will bring you updates as we get them. Until then, be sure to click the new “Cicadas” tab at the top of this page to brush up on your ID of the three species of 17-year Periodical Cicadas.
