The meaning of the annual cricket invasion

Do people who don’t live at ground level have the same experience we do every September? It’s as if ‘back to school’ means ‘time to explore the great indoors’ to crickets. They’ve been congregating in our house like wise women at a chocolate sampler booth.

I can’t remember ever seeing a cricket when I was growing up in the city. But then, we lived where it was much colder in the winter and our houses seemed airtight. Every house had storm windows, an extra layer of protection from the cold. A moth flying around indoors was an event. Even so, it was usually a wool moth, something miraculously bred of clothing or blankets in the back closet, not a creature from outdoors.

Despite my squeamishness about insects, I still tend to do what I can to save them when they show up. I may as well confess this right up front. I believe their convergence has a special meaning gleaned from the world of metaphors--applicable in whatever situation we find ourselves.

However, first, let me tell you that I own what is advertised as a spider trap, but which Christine, the friend who gave it to me, calls an insect relocator. It’s a plastic pyramid with a long handle attached at the apex. The bottom of the pyramid is a sliding door. Open it, place the pyramid over the insect, slide it closed, and relocate the friendly visitor to our lovely garden.

I use this invention almost every day. Christine wonders if there’s something remarkably well ventilated about our house if we have that many insects to relocate. Maybe it’s like gardening. I just love escorting the bugs and that makes me extra vigilant. I’ve guided flies, large ants, moths, bees, wasps, something that looks like a mosquito on growth hormones, spiders, centipedes, and, of course, most recently, crickets--lots of them.

I’ve been trying to remember if I’d ever seen a cricket outdoors. The only times I can recall recently have been for the nanosecond when, upon arriving home, I unlock the front door and, before I can take a step, a cricket, appearing out of nowhere, leaps in ahead of me.

When I worked at an agency located in the basement of the old post office in Leesburg, I never saw how crickets entered. I was usually the first person to arrive in the morning and when I opened the door they would send out a psychic alert among themselves.

Disperse! Disperse!

And the floor would undulate until it returned to it’s original red and gray linoleum tiles. Crickets seemed pretty happy there. We wouldn’t see them the rest of the day though we could always hear them singing as they partied in the back room.

Getting back to our current home gatherings...we always marvel about how some of them seem to be invisible yet remarkably noisy. Often, if I’m very attentive, I can place perpetrator’s location in the kitchen or dining room or hall, but just when I think I’m going to zero in on it, it stops. Obviously, at that point, I must be quite close. However, in all the years my husband and I have lived in this house we were able to find one in its near invisible form only once. It was tiny, hiding on a potted plant. We could hardly believe that such a loud sound could come from such a small being. We even thought it cute! In another stage, crickets might not be quite so loud but they’re big enough to startle you as they leap into action when you surprise them.

Now, here’s where the insect relocator plays its critical role, both in function and meaning. Crickets react to the threat of being ushered by changing their jaunty jerky stroll into Olympic long jumps. It’s best not to come directly after them.

I get close enough sideways to reach out with my long handled pyramid moving toward it from the front. Thus, his jump is directed right into the trap. I slide the door closed, and walk it out into the garden.

However, before releasing the cricket, l am reminded to wish it well, think about its sweet chirp, enjoy the sense of abundance that accompanies its visit, acknowledge its significance as a harbinger of good luck, and recognize its gift for making unique and well aimed leaps--always forward. There’s not much else with a message like that.