The crickets that inhabit the meadows are almost as famous as the cicadas. They do quite well among the few exemplary insects that are counted. The main reason it is so famous is because of its shelter, and its excellent singing talent. The possession of only one of these is not enough for them to achieve so much fame. An animal storyteller, La Fontaine, speaks of it only briefly, as if he had not noticed the genius and fame of this little creature. Another French fable writer once wrote a fable about the cricket, but unfortunately it lacked too much truthfulness and a subtle sense of humor. Moreover, this fable writer wrote in this cricket story that the cricket was not satisfied and was sighing its own fate! What a mistaken view this is, as may be proved by the facts. For whoever has ever personally studied crickets and observed their life, even if only a little superficially, will feel that crickets are very content and happy with their dwellings, and with their natural talent for singing. Yes, the fame that these two things have brought them is really enough to make them feel grateful. At the end of this story, he recognizes this contentment in the crickets. He writes: "My cozy little home, is a happy place, and if you want a happy life, seclude yourself in it!" Another feeling was given to me in a poem made by a friend of mine. I feel that what this poem is trying to convey is more authentic and more powerful in showing the crickets love for life. Here's the poem my friend wrote: Once upon a time there was a story about an animal. A poor cricket ran out to his door, warming himself in the golden sunlight, and saw a strutting butterfly. She fluttered, with her proud tail trailing behind, The half-moon shaped orchid pattern, in long rows, The deep yellow stars and black ribbons, the proud flier flicked. Fly away, said the hermit, and wander all day among your flowers, white as chrysanthemums and red as roses, which are no match for my lowly family. Suddenly there came a storm, and the rain caught the flier, and her broken velvet was stained, and her wings were smeared with mud. The cricket hides, out of the rain, watches with cool eyes, and sings. The majesty of the storm is of no concern to it, and the storm passes it by unimpeded. Get away from the world! Don't enjoy its pleasures and splendor too much, A lowly home, peaceful and quiet, Will at least give you time without worry. From this poem, we can recognize the lovely cricket. I have often seen crickets at the door of their dwellings, curling their antennae, so as to make the front of their bodies cooler, and the back warmer. They are not at all jealous of the many different kinds of butterflies that dance in the air. On the contrary, the crickets on the contrary some pity them. Their kind of compassionate attitude, as we often see, the kind of family people, can experience the joy of having a family, whenever talking about those who are homeless, lonely, will show the same compassion. The cricket, too, never complains of bitterness or pessimism; it has always been very optimistic and positive, and it is quite content and pleased with the house it has, as well as with its simple violin. In a sense, it can be said that the cricket is an authentic philosopher. It seems to understand clearly the vanity of all things in the world, and to be able to feel the advantage of avoiding the disturbances of the blind, frantic seeker after pleasure. This, by the way, should always be the right way to describe our cricket, at any rate. Still, a few lines are needed in order to bring the merits of the cricket into the open. Crickets have waited a long time since that animal storyteller, La Fontaine, ignored them, waiting to be described, introduced, and valued. Their friends, humans, have ignored them. For me, a naturalist, the most important point in the two fables mentioned earlier is the cricket's niche, and the lesson is built on it. The writer of the fable speaks in his poem of the cricket's cozy retreat; and La Fontaine, too, praises its home, which seemed to him to be lowly. So, from this point of view, it is the Cricket's dwelling that most attracts attention, no doubt. Its dwellings, even, have attracted the eyes of poets to observe them, though they can often do little to notice what is really there. Indeed, the Cricket may be regarded as superior in the construction of its areole as well as its home. Of all the various insects, the cricket is the only one that grows up to have a permanent family, which is a kind of reward for its hard work! During the worst time of the year, most other kinds of insects only hide in a temporary shelter from the storms of nature. Thus, their hiding place is conveniently obtained, and they do not feel sorry when they give it up. These insects, in many instances, also produce some surprising things in order to house themselves in their homes. For example, cotton bags, baskets made of various leaves, and towers made of cement. There are many insects that lie in ambush for a long time, waiting for the right moment to catch their long awaited prey. For example, the tiger beetle. It often digs a vertical hole and then, using its own flat, bronze-colored little head, plugs its hole. If, as soon as another species of insect wades through this disorienting, trapping gate, then the tiger beetle springs into action, lifting up one side of the gate without mercy to capture it. Thus the unlucky passer-by falls into the tiger beetle's well-disguised trap and is lost. Another example of this is the ant lion. It will make an inclined tunnel on top of the sand. The victims here are ants. Once the ants have gone astray, they will slide down this incline involuntarily, and then, immediately, they will be killed by a shower of stones. The hunters who guard their prey in this tunnel have made the neck into a kind of stone crossbow. But all the examples mentioned above are only temporary shelters or traps, and are not really permanent. After hard work to construct a home, the insects live in it, whether it is a vigorous, vibrant spring, or in the cold winds and snowy winter, so that the insects are incredibly dependent, do not want to move to any other place to live. Such a true dwelling place is built for safety and comfort, for the long term, and not for hunting, as was mentioned earlier. It is not a home built for hunting, as mentioned earlier, or a so-called "nursery" or other extended behavior. So, only the cricket's home is built for safety and coziness. On some sunny grassy slopes, the cricket is the owner of this hermit's compound. Just when other insects that are perhaps leading a life of solitary wandering, or lying in the open ground, or ambling under dead leaves, stones, and the bark of old trees, are fretting over the lack of a stable home, the cricket has become one of nature's superior inhabitants with a fixed abode. This shows that it has a sense of foresight. It is not so simple to make a solid dwelling however, it is no longer a big problem now for crickets, rabbits and finally humans. At not too great a distance from my dwelling are the burrows of foxes and badger-pigs, the great majority of which are only constructed of not very neat rocks, and it is evident at a glance that these burrows have been very little cultivated. For these animals, it is enough to have a hole to live in for a while, and to be "sheltered from the wind and rain in a poorly constructed kiln". In contrast, rabbits are a bit smarter than they are. If there are no natural burrows for rabbits to live in to hide from all the outside world, they will look around for their favorite spots to dig. The Cricket, however, is much wiser than either of them. In choosing its abode, it often despises those species which it happens to come across which make their homes in natural hiding places. It is always very deliberate in selecting for itself an optimum home site. They are quite willing to pick out places that have excellent drainage and are exposed to plenty of warm sunlight. All such places. Are regarded as a good place, to be preferred. Crickets would rather give up the kind of ready-made natural burrows, because, these holes are not suitable, and they are built very hastily, no security. Sometimes, other conditions are also poor. In short, such holes are not preferred objects. The Cricket demands that every bit of his villa be dug by his own hands, from his hall down to his bedroom, without exception. With the exception of man, I have not yet found any animal that is more skillful in building than the cricket. Even man, before the methods of mixing sand and mortar to make them solid and of coating the walls with clay were invented, used the cavern as a place of concealment and fought with wild beasts and nature. Why, then, is it that such a very peculiar instinct, which Nature has given to this animal alone? The lowliest of animals, but one that can live in perfect and comfortable conditions. It has a home of its own, with many advantages unknown to civilized mankind: it has safe and secure places to lie down and take refuge in concealment; it has comforts which it enjoys to no end, and at the same time it is impossible for any one to take up residence in the immediate neighbourhood of the home which belongs to it, and to become their neighbors. There is no one to compare with the cricket except us humans. It is puzzling and perplexing how such a small animal can possess such talents. Could it be that nature has favored them with some special tool? Of course, the answer is no. The cricket is not a first-rate expert in the art of digging. In fact, it is only because of the softness of the tools with which crickets work that people are so amazed at the results of their work and the construction of such dwellings. So, is it because the cricket's skin is too soft to withstand the elements that it needs such a solid dwelling? The answer is still no. For, among its brothers and sisters of the same kind, there are also those who, like it, have soft and sensitive skin, but they are not afraid to stay under the open sky and are not afraid to be exposed to nature. Is, then, its superior talent for building its peaceful and comfortable shelter due to its physical structure? Does it have a special organ for this work or not? The answer is again in the negative. There are three different kinds of crickets living in the neighborhood of my house. These three kinds of crickets are very similar to the crickets in the field in terms of appearance, color, and body structure. In the beginning, when you first see them, you often mistake them for field crickets. However, none of them knew how to dig a safe shelter for themselves, even though they were made from the same mold. There was a cricket with spots on its body, which simply made its home in a heap of grass in a damp place; there was another very solitary cricket, which hopped about forlornly like a vagabond on the clods of earth which the gardeners had made when they were turning over the soil; and there were others, such as the Bordeaux Cricket, which even broke into our house without scruple or fear, and was really an uninvited guest, disregarding the wishes of its the wishes of their masters. From August to September it stays alone in those places which are both dim and particularly cold, singing cautiously. It would be pointless to continue with the questions already mentioned. For the answer to those questions is invariably no. The naturally occurring instincts of crickets never provide us with answers about what causes them. It would be equally impossible to explain those answers by looking to the cricket's physique, its body structure, or the tools it utilizes to do its work. Nothing that grows on the insect's body can provide us with satisfactory explanations or answers, or give us any insight into the causes, or give us any powerful help. Of the four species of crickets that resemble each other, only one is capable of digging a burrow. Thus, we can learn that the origin of the cricket instinct is not yet known to us. Could there be anyone who does not know the home of the cricket? What man, when he was a little child, did not go before the house of this hermit and observe it? No matter how careful you are, how light your step is, this little creature is always aware of it, always senses your visit. Then, immediately alert and reflective, it immediately hides in a more sheltered place. And when you have managed to get close to the place where these animals have settled, at this very moment, the door of this residence is empty, and it is very disappointing. I think that anyone who has had such an experience will know the way to tempt these hiders out of their hiding places. You can pick up a blade of grass and place it in the cricket's burrow, turning it gently a few times. This will surely make the little cricket think that something is happening on the ground. So, the cricket, which has been tickled and has become somewhat irritated, will run up from the back room. Then, stopping in the aisle, hesitating, and, at the same time, drumming its fine tentacles earnestly and alertly to detect all movements outside. Then, it gradually ran to the place where there was a bright light; as soon as this little thing ran outside, it was throwing itself into the net, and would easily be caught. For the series of events that had taken place before had confused the simple little mind of our poor little creature, and how low its intelligence was! Had the little cricket escaped this time, it would have been suspicious and vigilant, always on its guard, and refused to take another easy risk and run from its hiding-place. In this case, other means of coping will have to be chosen. For example, you can utilize a cup of water to flush the cricket out of its burrow. Thinking about our childhood, that time is really something to be missed and envied. We ran into the meadow and went around catching insects like crickets. When we caught them, we brought them back home. We put them in a cage to feed them. We picked some fresh lettuce leaves to feed them. It was a great childish pleasure! Now, back to my situation here. To be able to study them better, I searched around for their areoles. It seems as if the events of my childhood had just happened yesterday. When another of my little companions, little Paul, a child who could be called an expert in the utilization of grass whiskers, after a very long time of carrying out his strategic tactics, suddenly, with great excitement and exhilaration, he called out: "I caught it! I caught it! A lovely little cricket!" "Move a little faster," I said to little Paul, "I have a bag here. Jump in quickly, my little prisoner of war, and you can live in peace inside the bag. There is plenty of food and drink in it. But there is one condition, and that is, you must not disappoint us! You must hurry up and tell us some things, some answers that we long to know and are struggling to find. And the first of these things that is required of you is this: show me your home." II Its House Among those green grasses, unnoticed, lies hidden unnoticed a tunnel with a certain inclination. Here, even if it had rained in a torrential downpour, it would have dried up at once. This hidden tunnel is at most nine inches deep and as wide as a human finger. The tunnel was either curved or perpendicular, depending on the situation and nature of the terrain. Almost as if it were a law, there was always a blade of grass that half concealed the dwelling, and its function was as obvious as that of a hooded wall that hid the apertures into and out of the cave from the darkness. The crickets would never touch this blade of grass when they came out to feed on the surrounding verdure. The slightly sloping doorway was carefully cleaned with a broom and tidied up to a generous size. This is their platform, where the crickets gather to play their ukuleles when things are quiet around them. What cozy summer-promoting music! The interior of the house is not luxurious, with exposed, but not rough walls. The occupants of the house have plenty of free time to fix up the places that are too rough. At the bottom of the tunnel is the bedroom, which is slightly more finely trimmed than the rest of the house, and is a bit more spacious. By and large it is a very simple dwelling, very clean and not damp, and everything meets sanitary standards. On the other hand, if we consider the simplicity of the tools used by the crickets to dig the earth, it is a great work of art. If we want to know how it is done and when it started such a great project, we must go back to the time when the cricket has just laid its eggs. The cricket, like the black katydid, lays its eggs only in the earth, about three-quarters of an inch deep, and it arranges them in clusters totaling about five hundred to six hundred. The egg is really an amazing machine. When hatched, it looks very much like a long grayish-white bottle with a thus neat hole in the top. On the side of the hole was a small cap, like a lid. The reason for removing the cap was not that the grub kept rushing around inside and breaking the cap, but because there was a kind of thread that surrounded it-a thread of such weak resistance that it cracked itself. Two weeks after the eggs were laid, two large grubs appeared at the front end, a grub that had stayed in swaddling clothes, in a tight suit, and could not yet be fully recognized. You should remember that the katydid hatches in the same way, and when it comes to the ground it is dressed in the same tight coat that protects its body. The cricket and the katydid are the same kind of animal, and although it is not in fact necessary, it also wears a uniform of the same kind. The katydid's eggs are left in the ground for eight months, and it has to wrestle with the hardened soil to emerge from the ground, so it needs a long coat to protect its long legs. But the cricket is shorter and thicker overall, and its eggs are in the ground for only a few days, so all it has to do to get out is to pass through the powdery soil. It doesn't have to struggle against the land. For these reasons it does not need a coat, and so it discards this coat in the shell behind it. When it sheds its swaddling clothes, the cricket's body is almost entirely gray and white, and it begins to fight the dirt in front of it. With its big gills it bites out some of the defenseless dirt and then cleans them aside or simply kicks them behind it, and it is soon ready to enjoy the sun on the dirt surface and risk clashing with its kind to begin a life as such a weak wretch, not yet as big as a flea! Twenty-four hours later it becomes a little black insect, and by this time its ebony color is sufficient to rival that of a fully developed cricket, and all its grayish-white color remains at the end of the day only as a white shoulder-strap around the thorax, which is borne with two black dots. At the upper of these two points, just above the head of the long vase, you can see an encircling, thin, raised line. It is on this line that the shell will crack in the future. Because the egg is transparent, we can see the nodes growing on this little creature. Now is the time to pay attention, especially in the morning. Good luck is brought about by caring, and if we keep going to the egg to look at it, we will be rewarded. Around the protruding line the resistance of the shell fades away, and the end of the egg gradually splits open, and being conked by the head of the little animal inside, it rises up and falls aside, like the lid of a small perfume bottle, and the prisoner of war leaps out of the bottle. When it goes out, the egg-shell is still long, smooth, whole, and white, and the pavilion-like lid hangs over the end of the mouth. The chicken egg breaks, when the chick smashes it with the little hard lump on the tip of its beak; the cricket's egg is more skillfully made, and, similar to an ivory box, holds the lid open. The top of its head is enough to do the job. We have said above that a young cricket jumps out when the lid is removed, and this is not quite accurate. It was very keen and active, and from time to time poked around with its long and often-twitching tentacles to find out what was going on, and ran and jumped about with great eagerness. It will be a little funny when the day comes when it grows too fat to be so active! Now we shall see why the mother cricket lays so many eggs. It is because most of the little animals are subject to the death penalty. They are often killed by a great number of cruel massacres by other animals, especially by the small form of gray lizards and ants. A nasty straggler like the ant often leaves not a single cricket in our gardens. It takes a bite out of the poor little creatures and gobbles them up with a wolfish gulp. Alas, this hateful villain, consider that we still place the ant among the more superior insects, and have written many books in its honor, and have praised it even more. The praise goes on and on. They are held in high esteem by naturalists, and their reputation is growing. Thus it appears that the most wonderful way for animals, like men, to attract attention is to injure others. The beetles, which are engaged in the very useful work of cleaning, do not attract attention and praise, and no one even pays attention to them; while the mosquitoes, which eat the blood of men, are known to every one; and also the wasps, with their poisoned swords, irritable and boastful, and the ants, which are devoted to mischief, are known to all. The latter, in our southern villages, often run into people's houses and break the rafters, and they do these mischiefs with as much pleasure as if they were tasting figs. The crickets in my garden have been completely brutalized by the ants, which makes me run outside in search of them. In August under the fallen leaves, where the grass had not yet been entirely dried up by the sun, I saw the young cricket, which had grown rather large, and was already all black, with not a trace of the white shoulder-strap surviving; at this period of the year it lived a wandering life, and a piece of dead leaf, and a flat stone, were enough to take care of a few things in the great world. Many of the crickets that escaped from the mouths of the ants and survived, now fall victim to the wasps. They hunt these travelers and bury them in the ground. Actually, if the crickets had been protected weeks in advance, they would not have been in such danger. But they never think of this, and always stick to their old habits, as if they were ready to die. It is not until the end of October, when the cold begins to bite, that the crickets begin to build their nests. This is a simple task, if we are to judge by our observations of crickets kept in cages. The digging does not take place on bare ground, but often in a spot covered by lettuce leaves - leftover food. Or something else that would take the place of blades of grass, as if such coverings were indispensable in order to make its dwelling secret. This miner picks at the ground with its forefeet, and, with the pincers of its large gills, bites away at the larger stones. I saw it stomp the land with its powerful hind feet, which had two rows of serrated growths on its hind legs. At the same time, I also see it clearing the dust pushing it back and spreading it out at an angle. This gives an idea of the full method by which crickets dig their nests. The work began to be done quickly. In the dirt in my cage it burrows down for two hours at a time, and every little while it comes to the entrance and exit. But it was often toward the back, and kept on dusting. If it feels tired of its labors, it may rest for a while in the doorway of its yet unfinished home, with its head turned toward the outside, and its tentacles swinging particularly feebly in a weary manner. Soon it burrows in again and resumes its labors with pincers and rake. Then the rests gradually lengthened, which made me feel a little impatient. The most important part of this work was accomplished. The hole was already more than two inches deep, enough for a moment's satisfaction. The rest can be done slowly, a little today and a little tomorrow, and the hole can be enlarged and deepened as the weather gets colder and the body of the cricket grows. If the weather is warmer in winter and the sun shines at the door of the house, you can still see the crickets throwing out dirt from the inside of the hole. In the spring, when the weather is so enjoyable, the repair work of the house still continues. Improvements and decorations were done regularly and without interruption until the death of the owner. Toward the end of April the cricket began to sing, at first in a rusty and shy solo, but soon it was blended together into a beautiful cadenza, and every clod of earth praised it as a very good musician of beautiful music. I would gladly place it at the head of the singers of spring. On our deserted land, at the blooming time of the thyme and mint, the larks rocket up and open their throats to sing, spreading their beautiful songs from the sky to the earth. And the crickets, who stay below, can't help but be attracted to sing a song in order to harmonize with their acquaintances. Their song is monotonous and artless, but it is artful in a way that harmonizes with the monotonous joy of the revival of its life; it is an awakening song of praise, known and savored by the budding seed and the first leaves. For this ensemble of two we should judge the cricket to be the winner in excellence. Its numbers and uninterrupted syllables are sufficient to make it deserving of the honor. After the lark's song has ceased, in these fields, where the greenish-gray opuntia grows, these critics, swaying fragrantly in the daylight, are still able to enjoy a song of praise from such unpretentious singers, and thus to accompany them through every moment of loneliness. What a useful companion! It gives nature a wonderful reward. III. ITS INSTRUMENTAL INSTRUMENTS For the sake of scientific research, we may say to the Cricket, quite frankly, "Show us your instrument." Like all sorts of valuable things, it is very simple. It resembles the musical instrument of the katydid, according to the same principle; it is nothing more than a bow, with a hook on it, and a kind of vibrating membrane. The right wing-sheath covers the left wing-sheath, almost completely, removing only the back and a portion of the turn wrapped around the side of the body, a style contrary to what we have originally seen in the Grasshopper, the Katydid, and their kind. The crickets have the right side covered with the left, while the grasshoppers, etc., have the left side covered with the right. The construction of the two wing-sheaths is identical.