Only male crickets chirp. Did you know that? They have a vein along the bottom ridge of their wing that is covered in comb-like teeth. When he rubs the teeth on the top of his other wing, it emits a chirping sound. They don’t bother humans or eat valuable crops; they eat rotting plants – and each other if the going gets rough. Thank you Wikipedia.
Crickets usher in summer. If you grew up outside of a big city, you probably took crickets for granted. I did. They were everywhere, singing all night long and into the early morning light. You rarely saw them, they just were. To children, they don’t have the same appeal as fireflies or butterflies and have therefore mostly escaped the jar-with-a-hole-in-the-lid-fate. The only reason to purposely catch a cricket is if you live in Thailand and want a snack. Seriously. Cambodia too. A few years ago a neighbor tricked me into eating a chocolate covered ant. It tasted like rancid peanut butter. But at least it wasn’t all crunchy legs with veins that sing…MAN, HAVE I EVER GOTTEN OFF THE TOPIC AT HAND…my apologies.
Hearing a cricket in NYC is a near impossible event, like seeing an old moustachioed Geraldo Rivera half-naked. Wait a…
A couple of years ago I moved into a new apartment building surrounded by greenery. Imagine my surprise as I returned home late one August evening to hear a cricket chirping outside the front door. Amazing! Only one cricket though, probably lonely, rubbing his vein against his wing in an effort to woo females and…this sounds disturbingly similar to a date I once had. Back to the lone cricket: I ran inside to tell my doorman (yes, haters, I have a doorman) who gave me an odd look when I started babbling excitedly about a cricket in the bushes. It made my summer. Each night I made sure to pass that same bush and what do you know, the cricket population grew and soon there was an entire boisterous orchestra chirping away. There are few things that make me happier than the sound of crickets. I love it when nature finds a way to survive and even thrive amid concrete and stone–unless that nature is called waterbug.
Two weeks ago, the crickets returned to the same area. Again, I ran inside to tell the doorman and this time he opened the door and stepped outside to listen, and he smiled. Don’t worry, he’s not from Thailand.