KEY TAKEAWAYS

• How can i find the famous Japanese Locusts when I visit Tokyo?

• How does Japan take care of the local Locusts in Japanese Parks?

• How are the locusts eaten by visitors in Japan being stopped by the locals?

WHO'S EATING THE LOCUSTS IN JAPAN?

Daniel TJ International Correspondent Tokyo, Japan

You know how summer in Japan has that sound? That wild, buzzing wall of noise that just hits you the second you walk outside in July or August? Cicadas—semi in Japanese—screaming from the trees like they’re trying to warn the world the end is near.

I used to find it annoying, but over time it kinda grew on me. Now I think of it as the sound of summer.

The sound of walking to the conbini dripping in sweat. The sound of festivals, fireworks, and melting kakigōri.

But this year... something’s different. A little too quiet. I noticed it maybe around early July—my local park in Kōtō ward wasn’t doing its usual summer screamfest.

At first I thought, eh, maybe it’s the weather. But then a friend texted me from Suginami saying, “Dude, where are the cicadas?? It’s way too quiet out here.”

Then I saw the sign.

Right at the entrance of Sarue Onshi Park. It’s not huge or anything, just a small notice board that I almost walked past, but I paused because the sign had four languages—Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and English.

It said something like “Please do not collect cicada larvae. This disturbs the ecosystem.” Or maybe it said, “Don’t take them out of the park.” I was honestly too surprised to read it carefully.

Wait—what?

People are collecting cicadas?

Not just watching them or listening to them, but like… harvesting them? What the heck for?

So of course I did what anyone would do—I went down a Google rabbit hole.

And yeah. It’s real. Apparently, park officials and city workers in a few Tokyo wards—Kōtō, Arakawa, Suginami, even up in Kawaguchi—have started putting up these signs because people have been coming at night with flashlights or even just in the dark, digging up cicada larvae, putting them in bags—dozens at a time—and then… cooking them?

Like, cooking them in the parks. Seriously. Japanese TV even did a segment showing people frying them up with spices right there.

Some folks were even sharing the recipes on Chinese social media, saying the taste is “nutty” or “rich in protein.”

One caption said something like: “Why waste a perfectly good cicada?”

And yeah, the local governments are trying to stay cool about it—no one's yelling, “These people are ruining Japan!” or anything like that. But they are clearly freaked out. There are signs, extra patrols, and even late-night warnings from park staff.

And the locals? A lot of them are super confused. I chatted with an older man sitting on a bench in the park the other day, and he shook his head and said, “Semi wa natsu no koe da yo.” (“Cicadas are the voice of summer.”)

Then he added something like, “If people take them all, it’ll feel like summer didn’t come.”

Honestly… I kinda feel that.

I mean, sure—people eat insects all over the world. No judgment. I’ve had fried crickets in Thailand. They’re crunchy, salty, not bad with a beer.

And I get it—protein is protein. Plus, there's been a push toward edible insects in Japan too. I’ve seen packages of chocolate-covered grasshoppers at tourist shops.

One shop in Nagano even had locust snacks, though I didn’t try those.

But this feels… different. It’s not an insect farming situation. It’s not regulated. These are people just grabbing bugs out of public parks, especially at night, and sometimes in big groups.

It feels sneaky, and kind of disrespectful in a way? Like, there’s a whole mood to summer in Japan, and cicadas are part of that.

Take them away and it’s just humid silence and sweaty t-shirts.

Also, just from a nature nerd POV, I worry a bit about the ecosystem. Cicadas aren’t just noisy little weirdos—they’re part of a whole cycle.

They feed birds, they aerate the soil, and their short above-ground life is kinda beautiful in its own way. You spend 5–7 years underground, only to burst into the world for a few short weeks, scream your lungs out trying to find a mate, and then… poof. That’s it. Kinda poetic, really.

So yeah, when groups start pulling dozens or even hundreds of larvae out of the ground before they can even become those crazy, buzzing adults—it messes with the whole balance.

Now, look. I don’t want this to turn into some anti-foreigner rant. I’m a foreigner myself, and we’ve all seen what happens when things get overblown or twisted online.

People hear about one incident and suddenly they think it’s an invasion. That’s not what I’m saying.

But I am saying: this is real. This is happening. And it’s weird.

I’ve lived in Japan for over a decade now, and I’ve seen some strange trends—raccoon pets, wasabi Kit-Kats, those giant plush dolls people use to “replace” depopulated villages (seriously, look that one up).

But this one caught me off guard. It’s not the weirdest thing on the surface, but it feels different because it messes with something elemental—something that, for better or worse, marks time in this country.

Summer in Japan is loud. It’s supposed to be loud. Even when it’s melting hot, even when you’re stuck waiting for the train with your shirt clinging to your back—there’s always that background soundtrack of thousands of cicadas just doing their thing.

That’s what makes a beer on a bench in the park feel like summer. That’s what makes those long, humid evenings feel… alive.

And this year, I miss it.

I walked through the park last night and it was mostly quiet. A few scattered chirps here and there, but not that full-on cicada chorus I’d gotten used to.

I don’t know if it’s entirely because of the harvesting—maybe the weather’s playing a role, or maybe it’s just early—but it still hit me.

So yeah. That’s where we are now.

Cicadas are the new black market snack. Tokyo parks are putting up multilingual warnings.

And I’m sitting here with my iced coffee wondering how we got to the point where people are treating the soundtrack of summer like takeout.

If you’re in Japan this summer, maybe take a minute to listen. If you can hear them, appreciate it. And if you see someone collecting larvae in the dark with a plastic bag… maybe gently ask them to stop.

Or at least ask if they’re planning to share. (Kidding. Kind of.)

Stay loud, summer. Don’t go quiet on us.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS? Ginger Moves To Japan