Cricket season is almost over. My dogs will be sad to see it go. They love crickets. Exciting, wiggly, squiggly snacks that tickle their tummy.
Crickets show up in droves. (Actually, I don’t know the word for the cricket collective.) One day I hear a few of them in the bushes and it seems as if it’s the very next day that there is a layer of dead crickets outside my office building when I get to work. There are so many dead crickets that I can’t walk from the street to the doors without some cricket crunching. This lasts for weeks and weeks.
These city crickets have a short life span. They find an office building with bright night lights and die trying to get in. Their country cousins, at least some of them, seem to adapt. I wonder if the country crickets are evolving, if their intelligence is increasing.
Why do I think this might be the case?
The cricket picket line. That’s the invisible horizontal line on the outside of my house. These country crickets, you see, have figured out the height limit of my dogs standing up on their back legs. All around my house and especially on the back porch, the lower part of the house is clear. About half way up, crickets appear. Crickets who want to live don’t cross the cricket picket line and get within the dogs’ reach.
I’m hoping the country crickets don’t evolve too fast. I’d hate to come home to find them hogging the remote and making long distance phone calls.