You just got up, and you don't feel like doing much of anything, not even eating. About all that really sounds good is making a lot of noise, and maybe meeting that special someone.

That could describe a lot of 13-year-old males, but in this case, you're a cicada, and you're less than 2 inches long.

And while most Illinois cicadas are south of here, entomology Professor James Whitfield found the insect in his yard west of downtown Champaign.

He logged it with a national registry, Cicada Central, http://bit.ly/jqVUMq, and put in on a department website, where it's shown missing a chunk of abdomen.

"A bird probably snacked on it," he says.

Which proves that the periodic cicada's amazing evolutionary safety net is not quite 100 percent.

Some "dog-day" cicadas come forth every year, but throughout the eastern half of the country, cicadas come in 13- and 17-year broods, their long cycles making them outlive most predators that could remember them.

Generally, there are broods that emerge every 13 years in the southern half of the state and every 17 years in the northern half.

Chris Simon, a professor at the University of Connecticut, is a national expert on cicadas. She says Illinois is later in the cycle of the 13-year brood that is widespread in the south.

"They are in southern Illinois and parts of Missouri, then down into Kentucky and further south," she said. "The emergence is almost over in the south."

But some of the 13-year brood are north of Champaign, especially near the Sangamon River.

Decatur has the heaviest concentration in the area, but Mahomet and Monticello also have them.

Laurie Clark, who lives north of Dewey, isn't sure which brood her cicadas belong to. She is sure there are lots of them, too many of them.

"They're killing my hostas," she said.

Females, who outlive their male counterparts, can damage plants when they cut slits in them with what Whitfield describes as "sword-like ovipositors" and insert eggs.

Simon said old forests can easily withstand the cicadas' onslaught, but new trees are at some danger — more of a trimming, she said, than a die-off.

Each brood has a distinct sound, and the males are loud enough to create a symphony.

Chris Dietrich of the Illinois Natural History Survey compares their sound to bird calls.

"You can make out the different broods," said Dietrich, who enjoys the noise of hundreds of male cicadas at once.

Large cicada broods have an advantage even when there are predators. There are so many of them, Whitfield says, that birds can eat all they want and still not make much of a dent in the population.

(Native Americans included cicadas in their diet.)

The 17-year cicadas emerged around Chicago in 2007, according to University of Illinois extension entomologist Phil Nixon.

Dietrich said there also other broods.

"Illinois has five different (periodic) broods, two 13-year and three 17-year," he said. "We're kind of lucky. We get to see them more often than people further west. Cicadas are found mostly in the tropics, but there are 25 to 30 species in Illinois and close to 100 in the U.S."

Nixon said older groups of trees, such as those that line the Sangamon, can host large broods.

What happens in those rare years when 13-year and 17-year broods synchronize?

Whitfield said the mating continues.

"You get either 13- or 17-year, you don't get in between," he said.

Dietrich points out there's never enough carnage to wipe out a brood.

"There can never be enough predators; there's always plenty left over to lay eggs," an extreme version of strategy that includes schools of fish and herds of wildebeest.

The males are already dying on their own, and the females won't last much longer.