Dude, where's my bug?

Dog-day cicada

I don’t know how your tiny brain works, but if it’s anything like my giant one, then certain visual input triggers certain mental images. Since I don’t only think of shrunken men as sexual fodder, I also ask myself poignant questions: What do you do for a living? What do you eat? What fabric do you use to make your clothes, if any? -And the ever popular- What do you drive?

I took the picture on the left with my cell phone one morning, as I went out the back door to do god-knows-what to my back yard. As you surely heard if you live anywhere these critters exist, they were out in full force this year, loud as all get-out, day in, day out. They are clumsy flyers, and easy snacks for birds.

This little fella perched himself on my screen door for four days in a row before I lost sight of him, and every day I thought of a tiny man riding on its back to get himself from place to place. The mental image makes my brain feel fuzzy warm.

In other news, did you see what my cats did to the screen on my door? Crazy little maniacs. Don’t ask me why they like to stick their claws in there to climb up, maybe get stuck, then cry out for me to help them. Such turdheads.

4 thoughts on “Dude, where's my bug?

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  1. Ah, the mighty cicada, the 17 year locust, swarming on the Darwinian “you can’t devour all of us!” plan. I used to collect their molts as a kid, you’ll find them clinging to trees. They don’t eat, so they don’t have anything to bite with. They’re slow moving, gentle, and if you let one crawl up your finger it’s a very odd sensation. Presumably the tiny men riding them are checking you out, reporting back to their hidden little cities, and plotting their next attack on the cookie jar. At least until the cats leap for them…


    1. The only cicadas I’ve seen are the perennial ones. A 17 year “batch” burst into life some time ago around here, but I didn’t spot any.

      I’ve trained my cats to only capture little men, and keep them imprisoned for me until I wake up. So far, they have only brought me half a bird, the odd garden snake, partially eaten moths, and mysteriously limp field mice. No tiny men yet. Sigh.


  2. Repair of a screen is easy, if graceless—easier than riddling out the cat’s motivation for sinking its claws into the mesh and tugging as hard as their fatty shoulders can strain, lofting their furry butts from the floor. Irritating.

    Excellent shot of the bug, though. Speaking as a Tiny, I really should study up on entomology to be more wary of which ones are prone to take a shot at me, and which can provide hasty, if erratic, vehicles for escape in a pinch. Huh.


    1. Yes… unless you are a bug whisperer, I recommend staying away from the local praying mantises. They are a bunch of gangsters. And forget about black widow spiders, as they run far too fast for little guys such as yourself. And they’ll eat you.


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