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Wednesday, September 27, 2006Two Crickets and a GrapeThat's what greeted me this morning when I entered my kitchen to make coffee. I'm used to things like this, of course. Having two boys in the house has conditioned me to almost not flutter an eyelash when I come across anything slimy, smelly, live, dead, or multi-legged. The crickets are no exception. The thing about these particular crickets, though, is that they're doomed. Jonathan doesn't catch them out of an innate love for insects; he catches them for bait, plain and simple. Why the grape? It keeps the crickets fed and hydrated. When I first encountered the crickets this morning, they were feasting on the halved grape with wee cricket gusto. All around the base of the grape was a trail of tiny cricket poops. Clearly they were thriving. Not for long. As soon as Jonathan decides it's time for another fishing trip, this cricket couple is destined for the Cricket Death Cage. Their one-way ticket out will lead to a barbed hook and the scummy water of the Harpeth River. Morbid, isn't it? So I started my morning gazing sorrowfully at two fruit-loving crickets in a twelve-ounce drinking glass. It was even more painful when the male cricket started singing, his wings vibrating faster than my eyes could follow. I felt sorry for him, and for his subdued mate. Something is definitely wrong with me. Ah, but I didn't scream. I saved the screaming for later, when Jonathan was pulling a rubbery, creature-shaped lure across my kitchen floor on the end of his fishing line. I thought it was a -- well, I don't know what I thought it was. I just screamed. Just when I think I have this "mother of two boys" thing down, something new makes me scream. Maybe by the time I'm a grandmother I'll have this thing licked. Then I'll be the one storing up jars of crickets to give to my grandsons. Just don't make me touch one. I can feel sorry for a cricket but I sure as heck can't touch it. Grape, anyone? |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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9of my readers are feeling chatty:
I hate crickets. HATE 'em! I can't even look at one without getting the shudders.
The old house had crickets galore. I once came home from work in the bitter winter to discover that, number one, the heat was out, and, number two, five crickets had lined up at the front door to greet me. I assume that they wanted to register their displeasure at freezing, but I didn't give 'em a chance.
Vacuumed them up and tossed the vacuum out onto the back porch.
Brrr.
I have no sympathy for crickets. They freak me out. They're too...jumpy!
we have a constant war going on with crickets at our place. Last night, we fired what we hope will be the final shot; we sealed what we believe to be every possible entry point with a foam spray. Our cat was no help - she just made friends with the crickets and danced around the house with them. Traitor.
I'm the odd woman out - I love the little things, especially their wonderful musical chirping! (I love cicadas too.)
Thankfully we don't live near any fishing holes so my guys like to catch them and keep them in those little plastic critter keepers for a while. The darn things sure can poop though!
I got called into cricket duty this morning. DramaMama called for me to get a cricket by her desk. She was climbing onto her bed as she did this.
"It's REALLY big!"
I couldn't find the fly-swatter (who ever uses one of those in the desert?), so I went with the broom.
I spied the LITTLE beasty near the desk.
>>SMACK<<
It just lay there.
"Are you sure it was even alive?"
"Did you just leave it there?"
"Getting some Kleenex"
>>FLUSH<<
Crickets get to live with Jesus too.
They are a common feature in light fixtures here. They get in through the roof, crawl around in the ceiling, and fall into lights. Then they can't get out and slowly get cooked when people go potty.
Gotta say I like them. Been known to sneak as close as possible to a chirping cricket, and pause to listen to him. Love to lie awake at night if I hear one and listen. Love to fall asleep when camping to the cricket choir. Makes me want to go camping right now :)
Did you ever read the Cricket in Times Square?
I would have freed them. I don't mind that crickets are used for bait. It's part of fishing (I guess) but I absolutley could not have crickets in my home thriving on grapes and singing songs knowing that their doom was approaching. Nope. Couldn't do it.
I used to cherish crickets....intrigued by the good luck thing.
I have saved animals (bugs & worms) for pets to eat.
Visiting from Wendy's blog. :-)
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