To eat brood II or not?

There's a lot of talk about eating cicadas on the internet these days--probably I'm encountering it through my own self-filtering. Brood II, in case your own self-filtering has insulated you from this knowledge, is one of the 17 year cicada events on the east coast. From North Carolina to southern Connecticut there will be millions upon millions of large red-eyed insects emerging from their prime number slumber to ascend trees and emit their decibel-shattering love call.

I've only ever experienced annual cicadas--green, "dog day" cicadas which are loud and briefly plentiful, but nothing like these periodical events. I'm eager to travel to the action, perhaps to New Haven, a city I've never visited but that everyone assumes I'm from when I say I grew up in Connecticut.

There seems to be a certain amount of anxiety about this cicada event, fear driven by...I don't know what exactly. The way that cicadas look? The fact that there will suddenly be thousands around, making encounters between humans and these insects more likely? A friend posted a photo of a display of insecticides from (presumably) a hardware store, prominently advertising the fact that the products would kill cicadas. This is the worst kind of fear-pandering, since killing these animals does exactly nothing to control the "problem" of 17 year cicadas. They are active for a short period during one summer, mate and lay eggs, and then disappear again for the length of time that it takes a human to become an adult. So it may appear that by spraying whatever poison around you have made them go away, but they will go away with or without your participation.

The entomophagy community is using the UN recommendations and the Brood II emergence as a synergistic opportunity to promote bug-eating. Supposedly a southern Connecticut sushi restaurant is preparing to (or joking about) make cicada sushi. I'll take the tempura, please--uncooked invertebrates are likely to harbor parasites. This NatGeo Article helpfully adds "[their] plant-based diet gives them a green, asparagus-like flavor."

Of course most Westerners are not among the 2 billion people of the world who already include insects as part of their diet. There's a taboo on this class of arthropod, a disgust borne purely from cultural bias. My favorite recent analysis comes from (of course) a comedian, Andy Zaltzman, on The Bugle Podcast:

"There's no way I'm prepared to eat insects. Mashed up connective tissue of pigs? Yeah, yeah, I'm happy with that. The livers of birds that basically amount to aerial vermin? Yeah! The hacked to pieces corpse of a mechanically slaughtered baby cow? Absolutely! Insects? Never! Unless they're basically insects that live in the sea, in which case, OH YEAH give me a bit of mayonnaise and let me rip its head off! And eat it whole, stomach included, in one go--I don't care if it's dead eyes are staring at me, and if it was waving at me from a bucket ten minutes ago--YUM."

3:00 snapshot # 1288: return to puppydom

The baby gate is back up in the kitchen, that can only mean one thing (no the other thing).
( We have a new foster puppy? )

100 More Species #81: Lawnmower's mushroom

Lawnmower's mushroom Panaeolus foenisecii

So called because most people encounter it seconds before they push a gas-powered rotating blade over it, the lawnmower's mushroom also goes by archaic common names like "haymaker's mushroom." It's one of the very few little brown mushrooms ("LBM"s) that has any common name at all. Paper field guides and some websites warn against allowing toddlers to gobble them from the lawn (a good guideline in general--I always advise against eating uncooked wild mushrooms) on account of small amounts of psilocybin possibly contained within. The Audubon Mushroom ID app lists them as edible but agrees to the possibility of some hallucinogen content. Wikipedia (the modern encyclopedia of record?) dismisses all this, attributing the oft-repeated "psilocybin in Panaeolus" myth to misindentifications and mistakenly lumping in unrelated but similar mushrooms found in similar habitats.



*Mushroom nerd sidebar:

I have found lawnmower's mushroom before at both Drumlin Farm and Franklin Park Zoo, and both times the mushrooms were bigger by half than these in my yard. I didn't think they could possibly be the same species, so I took a number of spore prints which all came out purple brown to purple black. I used several keys from Arora's "Mushrooms Demystified" and they all landed on P. foenisecii. The only field marking that didn't square out was whether the cap was "viscid" or not. Viscid means "slimy or sticky, especially when wet." These were quite dry until it rained again and the tops became kind of slippery. I reasoned that slippery is a condition of the cap itself, while viscidity implies a sticky or slippery substance on the cap, like a mucus, protein, or lipid.