Besides trying to manage the worst flea season in history, we have now been invaded by crickets.

A few months ago I noticed a constant chorus of chirping in our bedroom.  For a moment, I wondered if it were my imagination, since a cricket stars in a key scene of my one-woman show, Carol Goes Camping. But I knew it was all too real.

And then, I saw one. Later, I saw another. I was pretty sure they were multiplying, but what to do? I didn’t want to kill them (and besides, isn’t it bad luck?) So I decided we’d re-home them to the back yard.

Perfecting the technique

Long ago at Florida State University, we resided at married students’ housing, while M. went to law school. Our tiny little apartment was a haven for roaches–those horrible palmetto bugs that are everywhere in Florida. It was then that I perfected the skill of putting a glass over the bug til someone other than me could get it out of the apartment. Because as vile as they are, I did not want to hear them crunch. No way.

Here I was, 50 years later, again looking for a glass. And a piece of cardboard.

If I were alone, I’d attempt to put a glass over it till M. got home. Then, he’d slide the cardboard under the glass and carry the cricket out to the back yard, where it could live more happily.

One evening we rehomed six! I mean, they were definitely enjoying our hospitality.  Over the past few months I’d say we have rehomed at least 25 of the critters. Maybe more.

And I thought we were done.

But no: last night I switched on the hall light and saw something.  Maybe a small dog poop? Then as I got closer it jumped! Now, my dogs are talented, but they do not have jumping poop. It was a large cricket, which M. managed. Later, in the bedroom, its baby appeared — and also got re-homed.

I have no idea why this is happening all of a sudden, just like I don’t know why we have a flea problem for the first time since we’ve lived here– 13 years.

But I can’t complain too much: crickets are a symbol of good luck.

And I’ll take that, any time.
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