My Friend Fred—Part 2

One morning when I checked in on Fred, I noticed a spider inside the fish bowl. It had weaved a web, just off the bottom, and was waiting, immobile, off to one side. Was this Charlotte’s cousin—come to translate Fred’s message to me? Or was it looking to Fred as a very large meal—just waiting for an opportunity to pounce and wrap Fred up for storage? I watched the spider—about half the size of its bowl companion—over the next several days. The only time I saw it move was when I trickled a few drops of water into the bowl for Fred. When the drops hit the spider’s web, it charged out to the center, hoping it’d snared some prey.

I knew that the spider had no idea it had taken up its sentry duty inside a fish bowl—an unlikely location for any insect to be flying along and becoming ensnared. I wondered how many days a spider could fast, before starving. I watched to see if it was getting any more anxious to capture Fred, but the spider patiently remained frozen in place—enticed to move only when I dribbled a couple of water drops into its web. Then one morning the spider was gone. Fred remained sprightly behind—seemingly oblivious to the departure of his bowl mate. I detected neither relief at no longer being the object of digestive intentions, nor sad about once again being alone.

Cricket life in the fish bowl carried on. I began to wonder how long Fred might remain our guest. What is the life span of the average cricket? Can they overwinter? It was now January and Fred was fast approaching an overwintering feat. When protected in a fish bowl (but not having to duck marauding spiders, say), might they live longer than usual? Fred remained silent in the face of my many queries.

I have a few insect books. They give only the barest identifying details, however, so when I consulted them, they were of no help. I could have dug deeper and done some Internet surfing to learn more, but decided that I’d just as soon let it all unfold, with my ignorance getting partially lifted through observation. Fred was a guest, after all. It is not polite to probe too deeply into the lives of one’s company. Be discreet and simply observe.

Nearly two months after Fred had materialized from under the stereo, my spouse exclaimed one afternoon, “There’s another cricket in the bowl!” She could have said that Fred had disappeared or that he’d turned orange, and I’d have been less surprised. Another cricket!? I mean, having one cricket hang around in your fish bowl for some two months in the midst of winter is quite remarkable, but having it suddenly joined by a second one?

Despite his powerful jumping legs, Fred had never hinted at trying to leap out of the bowl. I’m positive he’s not been able to figure out the properties of the glass enclosure he’s in; I watch him, head against the glass, trying to move forward, but stymied by the invisible wall that contains him. It’s way beyond incredible that another cricket would be scouting the area in February, find a compatriot gazing out of a fish bowl, and figure a way to jump in! Far better to coach Fred on how to escape. On the other hand, it’s possible that Fred would tell any passing cricket that he had a cushy life—wallowing among the grass clippings. “Come on in and chill out! The big two-legged creature feeds us for free.”

I looked at the “new” cricket. Hmmm… it didn’t seem to be very vital. It made sedentary Fred look as if he had a severe case of ADHD. I put my glasses on for a closer look. Aha! The “new” cricket was just a shell of Fred’s former self! Fred had molted! That was his exoskeleton lying there. I peered at Fred. He looked healthy, refreshed, and quite unconcerned about my wonderings, in his new suit of clothes—munching away on a grass clipping.

This development raised too many questions in my mind, for me to continue passively observing, trying to learn cricket customs. I had to know more—so I turned to the Internet and searched on “cricket.” I found links on buying chocolate-covered crickets and on Buddy Holly’s old backup group, which were kind of interesting, but not relevant to my search. Then I located a few good Web sites on cricket habits. Unfortunately, too many of these viewed crickets as pests—worthy only of one’s learning enough about these critters to keep them away, or poison them if they got in your house.

The last of Fred’s bowl movements next time…