the cricket

I've come to the end of my patience with "critters" creeping into the house. Somehow this has been the summer for it. For example, a couple of weeks ago we spent a lively evening chasing a lizard around the family room. Nothing like a rogue reptile to bring a family together.

Our latest adventure in "bringing the outdoors in" has involved a very noisy cricket taking up residence in our heating/air conditioning system. It took us a long time - and a lot of moving furniture - to figure this out, as the chirping would move around to various rooms. Finally one day I figured out that the chirping was quieter if I closed the vent in the room where I heard it. Relieved that the insect was not actually in the house, we figured it was OK where it was and would eventually either find its own way out or perish from starvation.

Fat chance. Apparently these things can live on dirt or whatever other disgusting particles float through the HVAC system. Because the chirping got louder and more prolonged as the days went on. That lovely chirp that sounds so nice when you're spending a lazy sumer evening out on the patio is beyond annoying when it's inside the house at full volume during all hours of the day and night.

One morning this week my husband shined a flashlight down into the vent in the family room and actually saw the little noisemaker. His plan was to grab a can of bug spray of some sort and spray the cricket. (I was a little skeptical of this plan, mostly because removing the vent cover meant our little friend might actually jump into the house. Never mind the ramifications of spraying poison into the ventilation system. )

As we were debating this plan, our 7 year old appeared in the kitchen doorway. Upon noticing the loud (and I do mean LOUD) chirping, she made a beeline for the vent, where she proceeded to call in an even louder voice, "Keep singing, cricket! I like your beautiful music!"

Ah, the innocence of childhood. I'm convinced that if Tess actually saw the cricket she would not be so enamored of him. (This is the girl whose bloodcurdling screaming brought her father running in from outside one night to find that she had simply spotted a spider in the bathroom.) But from its invisible hideout, she only came to know the cricket by his beautiful music. There must be some sort of lesson there in looking beyond appearances, but it just seems silly to try to see something profound in this situation.

Ultimately, the cricket met his end. At least that's what we surmise by his silence. Beautiful, peaceful silence.