A Cricket’s Lullaby
As the fireplace flickers low And logs are reddish ember-glow,
A simple solo, drowsy-slow, Hesitantly creeping,
A nightly nocturne he’ll begin, His fiddle tucked beneath his chin,
A tinny tune that’s rusty-thin, Played as the world is sleeping.
–Blanche Day Manos
Yesterday I saw the first cricket I’ve seen since last fall. I didn’t notice a fiddle beneath his chin. In fact, this particular cricket looked like it might have just waked up from a long winter’s nap. It wasn’t all that perky. Crickets have a bad name in some places, due to their habit of dining on clothing. But the sound of a cricket chirping beside the fireplace is homey, if you overlook its bad habits. What other insect can tell us the temperature? Just count the number of times it “chirps” (scratching its wings together) in 14 seconds and add 40. The cricket isn’t fussy about being accurate; it’s content to be an approximate insect thermometer.
The first butterfly came for a visit yesterday too. I saw it stop by one of my shallow bird baths for a drink. This butterfly was black with deep blue markings. Its eagerness may prove fatal. Now what will it do the next cold snap? Because there’ll definitely be another cold snap or two or three…my grandmother used to say that Mom and her sisters and brother couldn’t go barefoot until they had seen the first butterfly. I don’t believe she would follow that rule though if she had seen a butterfly in the middle of March. Best to keep on those shoes until the ground gets a lot warmer.
These early-bird insects, in my opinion are out and about far too early. Maybe they know a place they can tuck into to escape the next freeze. But they are right about one thing–warm weather is just around the corner. I hope the Ides of March was much kinder to you than it was to Julius Caesar. Tomorrow is St. Pat’s Day and we roll quickly along to springtime and lots and lots more insects.
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