A Tale of Two Crickets

It took me a while to find him. He was chirping away and I did that thing where you turn your head to listen. And I walked through the hall; into the kitchen; back down the hall. It seemed like everywhere I stopped to listen he was somewhere else. No matter where I was, it sounded like he was where I just came from.

Then my scattered brain got distracted. Isaac had to get up for school. We did that. Eating breakfast, it dawned on me that I was searching on a plane, where the cricket might be like, in the attic. That was it. I informed Isaac, "Hear that cricket? He's in the attic."

Isaac: "How'd he get in the attic?"

Huh. Good question. How did he get in the attic? Do crickets even climb trees, much less my wall? No time for this; time for school.

Me: "He hopped."
Isaac: "I bet he climbed."
Me: "Yeah, you're right. He must have climbed."

And off we went to school; and back from school I came. Sitting at the computer I pulled up the Wikipedia article on 'Synergism (theology)', which I expected to be deeply interesting. I was wrong. I'll give you the abridged version: "Blah blah blah, things that end in -ation. Finger pointing. The end." When all of a sudden I heard the cricket again and a horrible thought passed through my mind: I remembered seeing him the night before, but I neglected to rescue him then. He's not in the attic. I saw him in the hall. Now he's hiding under a door jamb.

He started chirping so I paced the hall again, this time tilting my head while I turned it. Sure enough, he was right where I left him only now beyond my reach. I stooped down with my face next to the gap, "Hey cricket ... if you come out I'll rescue you. But if you don't there's nothing I can do." I realized my speech was likely to terrify the poor thing so I gave it up and went back to reading; back to mustering up a little bit of tolerance for an article that should be about God, but instead is about words that end in -ation.

A moment before retaking my seat, behold! Another cricket! I vowed not to let this one go. She hopped away with all her fury. (I'll call her a her becuase she never chirped, but she was super busy running away from me, after all.) She hopped and hopped. Smacked into the wall. Hopped behind this. Scrambled under that. Eventually I got her and we went outside.

She didn't hop off right away. I just talked to her for a minute while she walked around on my hand, catching her breath.

"You wanna go on the rail here? No? How 'bout the grass. No? Okay, no hurry."

I sat down on a step to wait for this cricket to hop off me. It was nice. She cleaned her antennae. She explored a little bit up my arm, which was tickly. I think she liked me. She felt safe. Finally I pursuaded her to climb into the grass, but she'd have stayed with me forever I think.

Going back inside I made a decision; I will save the other cricket too. The work began with a flashlight; proceeded with little stick, then a scooper I made out of a clothes hanger. No luck. I was ready to give up, but then he started chirping again. I knew what had to be done; I got out real tools and started dismantling the wall. It was messy and difficult. Repairing the wall will cost me time and money, but it was worth it. I got him.

Good thing he never quit chirping.