Author: Anna & Mark

While I was out in the woods
gathering leaves to refresh our deep
bedding Monday, I
noticed several periodic
cicadas recently emerged from their skins.  Cicadas spend most
of their lives as ground-dwelling nymphs, tunneling up to 8.5 feet
below the surface to suck the juices out of roots.  You’ve
probably seen the skins they shed after crawling up out of the soil and
unfurling their wings, and have likely heard their mating songs in the
summer as well.



Since the cicadas I was
running into were newly transformed into adults, they were slow and
easy to nab by pinching their wings together.  I tossed cicada
after cicada into the chicken pasture, and the same Black Australorp
scarfed down each one.



Cicadas actually enjoy a
history as human food, so it’s no surprise our chickens liked them so
much.  I’ve read that a cicada has the same proportion of protein
per pound as would be found in lean beef, and the taste has been
descibed as similar to almonds or pistachios.  There are quite a
few cicada recipes on the internet, and now I’m starting to wish I’d snagged a few for
our own dinner instead of tossing them all to the flock.  For
tastiest cicadas, find them young when they’re still whitish and toss
the insects in the freezer to die a slow death before cooking them (or
eating them raw).



Given the level of
enthusiasm our chickens showed when offered cicadas as
treats, Mark started pondering how to raise or catch cicadas to feed
the flock.  Any crazy ideas for catching cicadas in bulk?

In the field of rooster
management, I’ve clearly got a lot left to learn.  Last year, we ate
our rooster because
he had taken to beating me up when I went into his pasture, a problem
which (in retrospect), I’m pretty sure was my fault.  This spring,
I noticed our rooster giving me the evil eye and I gave him a wide
berth, moving slowly and trying not to get between him and his
ladies.  Even though I think our new rooster had the same
potential to turn into a person-flogger, my care ensured that the
behavior was never triggered.



Unfortunately,
this year’s rooster turned his aggression in another direction, violently
molesting one of our hens.  I can’t quite decide
why he turned mean after a whole winter of generously protecting his
ladies as they free ranged in the woods.  Maybe spring simply
fills rooster with aggression, or maybe being crammed into small
pastures set him off.  Perhaps it shook him up to be rotated to a
new pasture every week, even though I chose this rooster out of all of
last year’s cockerels because he was (and is) the smartest about
heading into the coop and out a new pophole on rotation day.



Regardless
of the cause, I’m afraid yet another rooster is going in the pot. 
We’ll keep one of his sons to fertilize this fall’s and next year’s
flock, and I’ll keep trying to learn to be a better rooster
keeper.  Not that we need a rooster between April and August (when
we’ll start our fall batch of broilers).  Maybe the solution is to
simply keep a rooster around for the winter and eat him each spring
before he becomes a problem?