So….yesterday I’m sitting at my desk and there’s a cricket two feet from my feet. After much fleeing (me) and double-backing (me) and capturing under a 16-oz foam cup (the cricket), I called the maintenance department.
While waiting on the guy (do maintenance departments hire women?) to dispose of the cricket, I made sure that the cricket didn’t escape by weighting down the foam cup with two catalogs. I’m amazed that companies still print catalogs so I’m going to give them a shout out. Uline and Ben Meadows.
In comes the maintenance guy with, what I hope, are the tools of the cricket disposal trade: a hand brush and scoop. I point to my cricket detainment center and notice the cricket is next to the foam cup. I’m thinking that maybe I overdid it with the catalogs and the stress of the weight of the catalogs caused an opening for the cricket to escape.
The maintenance guy gets to work and, in short order, scoops up the cricket. He accidentally topples over the cup and there’s the original cricket! Much fleeing (by both the cricket and me) ensues.
But the incident stayed on my mind all day. Did the incarcerated cricket communicate with the rescuing cricket? Would the rescuing cricket have devised a means of escape had not the maintenance guy responded immediately? Am I projecting and anthropomorphizing the crickets because of my shameful lack of interest in the insect world? Whatever the reason, I felt badly that I was instrumental in their demise. Sadly, it was demise and not disposal.
That is until I got home and realized that my two baby peony plants were missing. They were no more than a stalk and six leaves each but I had nursed them through last year’s drought and celebrated when I saw them pushing up this spring. Now they were gone. Not even the stalk was left. Were it not for the fact that I have a picture of the plants, I would believe that they were imagined.
Who ate them? Why did they eat them? Why? Was it karma? Two deaths for two deaths? So, I swallowed my bitterness at the animal that ate my nascent peony bushes and planted a few bulbs in the now empty space. They were left over from last year because the drought was so long and so harsh, the earth turn to concrete making it impossible to plant anything.
I have to say that the soil isn’t much better this year. Even after a sudden and welcome downpour, it’s still extremely difficult to get the bulb planter six inches inside the earth. I love my bulb planter because it looks like a round biscuit cutter with a handle. I settled for a two inch trough and scattered the bulbs willy-nilly; not caring if they were on their side or upside down. I’ve seen plants grow through rocks so I know that my bulbs will find a way through two inches of clay.
It was while watering the newly planted bulbs that I thought of the neighborhood birds. I have to say that I love these birds. They make a lot of noise but they also do a lot of flying in formation from the trees across the street to the roof of my home. I spend some time in the late evenings just enjoying the aerial show with its attendant sound track.
But I am also wondering if I’ve provided a buffet of bulbs for their dinner delight. Do birds eat bulbs? I don’t know but I do know they eat birdseed and I possess a ten pound bag of birdseed. Last year I bought the birdseed and a stand for bird feeder but the earth was way too hard to install the stand. I cast the birdseed far and wide which only resulted in chasing off the birds. Oh well, if they eat the bulbs, I’ll just plant more.
But they didn’t eat the bulbs. On my way to work this morning, there they were; pecking and pecking and pecking on the sidewalk. There I was; smiling, and smiling and smiling.