Per hour when all the insects wander in the search of a water drop, the Cicada laughs itself at the dryness of the summer.

With its rostrum (kind of drill) it puts in borer a "barrel" of its inexhaustible cellar. With its rostrum or sucker, fine gimlet, it drills the bark and reaches the inflated wood of sap, then is watered to be able more. This puncture does not cause any damage with the trees.

Installed, always singing, on a branch or a trunk, to suçoir it plunged in the hole of plug, it is watered with delight, motionless, very whole with the charms of nectar. As the sun turns and moves its shade, it turns around the branch by slow side strides, always remaining in the part best illuminated, hottest. All these operations are always carried out while singing for the male, the female sirote in silence.

When the Cicada waters itself, many insects approach to lick the liquid which runs: wasps, flies and especially ants; these last slip under its belly, mordillent the legs to him, climb to him on the back, tickle the antennas to him, to reach the feeding trough in order to drink frank lippée. Aggravated, our Cicada ended up giving up the well, flies away launching a jet of urine to the bandits.

The sap will be its only food, during its short life from singer, i.e. four to five weeks, then will fall from the tree, and will die of exhaustion!