There was a big frikken cricket crawling across the floor of the office just now! A black cricket. Antennae weaving calmly in front of him as he scutters along. Probably a happy little guy! Probably he just got some good news, and he's thinking "what a wonderful capper to a beautiful day!" Then he scuttles into my field of vision, and I'm thinking "what is my responsibility as an employee in a position of responsibility in this company? And then, what is my responsibility to the cricket?"
I used to love crickets. Crickets were my buddies. Chirping in the rec room. There'd be a bunch of them coming in there when the weather got cold. Coming in through the walls. Coming in through the fireplace, maybe - trying to eke out another few months in comfort, I guess.
They were my buddies! I loved those guys. When I found a dead one, I'd be sad, and I'd carry it outside thoughtfully, to repose on the withered winter grass. I don't know. What the hell, I was eight.
But I like crickets. The adult part of me is wondering, "what do they eat? Are they like roaches? Are they getting into stuff? I better put this guy outside, he shouldn't be in here and underfoot like that - this is a place of business."
I got a big paper dixie cup. I was going to catch him under it. Then I'd slide a stiff file folder underneath it, and carry him to safety, outside.
He was half-way too fast.
...
I don't know what's more sad: me being here working at this hour, or this poor chirper getting croaked because of it.
R.I.P., little guy.
I used to love crickets. Crickets were my buddies. Chirping in the rec room. There'd be a bunch of them coming in there when the weather got cold. Coming in through the walls. Coming in through the fireplace, maybe - trying to eke out another few months in comfort, I guess.
They were my buddies! I loved those guys. When I found a dead one, I'd be sad, and I'd carry it outside thoughtfully, to repose on the withered winter grass. I don't know. What the hell, I was eight.
But I like crickets. The adult part of me is wondering, "what do they eat? Are they like roaches? Are they getting into stuff? I better put this guy outside, he shouldn't be in here and underfoot like that - this is a place of business."
I got a big paper dixie cup. I was going to catch him under it. Then I'd slide a stiff file folder underneath it, and carry him to safety, outside.
He was half-way too fast.
...
I don't know what's more sad: me being here working at this hour, or this poor chirper getting croaked because of it.
R.I.P., little guy.
Comments
No, there is not. Not only are crickets the most harmless insect that crickets, they are in fact the only insect that crickets. Other insects do similar things to cricketing - such as to chirp, or to sing - take cicadas for instance. Very loud, but what they do I would not call cricketing. It's more constant, less rhythmic, and less musical (raspier/buzzier).
Just the other night at the Crowded House show, the crickets were in fine form - synching up their cadence to the tempo of each song! The following night, lead singer Neil Finn referred to the crickets as cicadas.
Which just goes to show, you can be a genius and still not know what you're talking about.