The Cricket Wars

The sound of crickets chirping has always been a soothing sound to me.  It greeted me as I arrived home late at night and walked to the door after parking in the driveway.  The chirping crickets kept us company while we trick-or-treated in our neighborhood as we walked from house to house.  On the ride “Pirates of the Caribbean” at Disneyland we floated past the man smoking his pipe while he watched the evening as the crickets were chirping in the make-believe scene.  The animatronic figure rocked back and forth in his rocking chair on his front porch of his house in the swamp.

I learned recently that the frequency of a cricket chirp can be modeled linearly.  The warmer the evening is, the higher frequency the cricket chirps. There’s even an equation that you can plug in the degrees in fahrenheit and predict how many chirps per minute a cricket will sound.

The sound of crickets chirping in the evening outside is a wonderful sound.  Crickets chirping inside is not soothing at all. A cricket inside the house is a trespasser.  

It started in the garage.  I would go in the garage to get something and hear a cricket chirping in there.  Huh, I thought, there’s a cricket in here. Wonder what he’s doing in here? A garage is not the optimal place for a cricket to live.

The garage was only the beginning of the cricket assault.  A few nights later I heard one in a storage closet that shares a wall with my 7-year old son’s bedroom.  We kept the cat boxes in there and and stored extra household items like toilet paper and cleaning supplies.  Huh, I mused, wonder why a cricket is in here? The storage closet is at the opposite end of the house from the garage and is not the optimal place for a cricket to live.

I didn’t think much of the crickets in the garage or storage room after that. But when my son said at bedtime one night “Mom, I can’t sleep, the cricket’s chirping too loud.” It became a matter of family security.  

I dutifully opened the storage room and was greeted with nothing but darkness and the almost constant sound of a cricket chirping.  I flipped the light switch to dispel the darkness but saw nothing but cat boxes and cleaning supplies.  It must have been hot in there to the cricket as he was chirping at a very high rate from some hidden position.   There was no way for me to see the cricket much less stop him from chirping.

War was declared between the crickets and I.  The crickets won that battle that night as my son took his blankets and set up his bed for the night on the floor of my bedroom so he could sleep.

Since then my son has relocated to our bedroom to sleep a few more times.  It was not every night but it was enough for me to recognize that I was losing battles in the Cricket Wars.  New measures had to be taken. I would give no mercy and appointed myself judge, jury, and executioner when it came to the crickets in the house.

I delivered the first verdict while reading in my favorite chair in my bedroom.  I spotted something scuttling out of the corner of my eye and I after I verified that it was a cricket and not a cockroach (my husband is the judge, jury, and executioner of cockroaches) I sprang into action.  I grabbed one of my sandals lying nearby where I kicked them off and carried out the execution. No mercy was granted to the trespassing cricket.

I have extended the duty of cricket executioner to my kids.  They were trained in the procedures after they came running down the hall “Mom! Mom!  There’s a cricket in the bathroom!”

“Go kill it!” I replied.

My son was too happy to comply with this command.  But my daughter wanted to grant the cricket probation by removing it from the bathroom and setting it loose outside.  I am still working on my daughter’s training in cricket execution.

The family cat has also joined in the Cricket Wars.  Every morning, an hour before everyone is up, the cat and I hang out at my little desk.  I sip my coffee while she’s curled up in my lap. One morning she jumped down from my lap and was interested  in something by the small bookcase nearby. She sniffed at it and I saw it hop. The cat found herself a small cricket.  She pawed it around the floor and pounced on it. When she grew bored of her game she gave one last jump on it and chomped down the cricket as a pre-breakfast appetizer.  Judge. Jury. Executioner.

I suppose I could look into hiring an exterminator but I’m leery about all the chemicals they spray around the house.  We haven’t seen a cricket for a few weeks now. I’m sure the Cricket Wars are not over but I think it’s safe to say that I’ve won this battle.  Crickets should keep their high-frequency chirping outside and trespassers will not be tolerated. I’ve got highly-trained cricket executioners and a guard-cat on duty 24 hours a day.