Bugs

Parents fear that their children will grow up to be just like them. I wanted Ann and John to be smarter than I was. I wanted them to be wiser than I was. I wanted them to be fearlessly brave in all their endeavors. I wanted them to be braver than I was as a kid when it came to critters. I wanted them to be like those ballsy kids I used to know who’d pick up small life forms that crawled on the ground and show them to their friends.

I wasn’t terribly fond of bugs as a kid, which is a kind way of saying I was chicken. I always admired the kids who had no qualms about picking up grasshoppers, snakes, or anything else that crawled or slithered on the ground. There was something admirable and brave in those kids that I knew I lacked, and hoped that someday I might acquire their fearlessness.

For my kids to become fearless in the creepy crawling disgusting real world I decided they needed a role model, and that role model should be me. I started by washing dishes and not gagging when I cleaned the slimy gook from the strainer in the sink. Then I managed to change diapers without nausea. I graduated to rinsing soiled cloth diapers in the toilet with one hand while drinking orange juice in the other. Later still I was able to eat a bagel while peering down into the septic tank as it was being pumped. This was followed by crawling on my belly like a reptile in the crawlspace of our house to light the furnace amongst a horde of camel crickets that were jumping, landing on my face, only to jump off once again. These things still freak me out, but I have managed to control my gagging and screaming reflexes.

By the time the kids were old enough to totter around outside in the yard I’d grown a sufficient backbone (my momma wouldn’t let me say “a pair of balls”) to pick up various bugs and snakes in the landscape and show them to the kids without revealing the coward that that lives within me. I’d hold the critters in my hand and encourage them to touch and hold them too. We’d call Jean out to the yard and the two of us would “ooh” and “ah” at the wildlife to generate a proper appreciation in the kids. Jean didn’t mind the bugs too much, but the snakes took some serious acting on her part. (Yet another reason why I love her)

Today’s story took place when the kids were in elementary school. We caught a beautiful caterpillar and put him in a homemade bug box for observation. He looked like this.

I don’t want to take the time to investigate and accurately report the biology, so let’s just say that over a period of time we observed that the caterpillar built a cocoon, and we were lucky enough to notice the Luna Moth as it was emerging from the cocoon. The image can be found at the following link.

To understand why the ending of this story is funny to our family I have to take a brief moment to describe the environment Ann and John grew up in. To put it simply, we had fun pretending that we were quirky demented humans. For example

1. Our favorite movies were Addams Family, and Addams Family Values.
2. Our favorite movie quote is “Are there real Girl Scouts in your Girl Scout Cookies?”
3. We kept hermit crabs and worms for pets.
4. I taught the kids that to survive scary movies it is best to root for the monsters to kill more humans.

That was Ann and John’s home environment.

Back to the Luna Moth – I asked the kids if they wanted to keep the moth in the bug box over a period of days, whereupon it would die, or set the moth free, knowing full well from all too many nature shows that the moth is still likely to die. The kids chose to set the moth free.

We went out to the driveway with the bug box and prepared to free the moth. There was a blue jay sitting on the peak of the garage roof and I pointed him out to the kids. I told the kids “I think moths are generally out at night. I am not sure what this moth is going to do when it is released in the middle of the day. That blue jay is just sitting there as if he is waiting for lunch, but this moth is likely to get eaten by some predator sooner or later anyway, so let’s give it a go.” I opened the box, pulled the moth out, and he began to fly away.

The problem was the moth was flying straight and steady right down the driveway in wide open terrain headed for the street and not for the cover of trees and bushes. I called out a warning. “Guys, this doesn’t look good. He’s not flying erratically like moths and butterflies are supposed to do. That blue jay is bound to see him and nail him for lunch!”

I tried to prepare Ann and John just in case the worst happened. I wasn’t sure how they would react to seeing their moth killed right in front of them. It was one thing to see death on TV nature shows. It was another thing to see it firsthand.

Sure enough, the blue jay launched off the peak of the roof and headed straight for the Luna Moth who was still flying straight as an arrow. The blue jay looked like a fighter jet compared to the slow moving moth and nailed him in midair. We all yelled “OH” in sympathy upon the impact and watched the blue jay take the moth into the Yoshino Cherry tree next to the driveway. Not wishing to be cruel and insensitive, but also wishing to impress upon the kids that this was the way of the natural world, I knelt down, hugged the kids close, and laughed the way you laugh when the asshole lawyer gets eaten by the T-Rex in Jurassic Park.

We all laughed as if we were watching a horror movie. It was either laugh or cry. Somewhere hidden in the leaves of the tree was a blue jay who was pulling the body parts off of a Luna Moth. All we could see were the moth’s body parts falling out of the mass of leaves. The first body parts to fall to the ground were the wings, and then came the legs. Eventually the body parts quit falling, and we imagined the blue jay gulping down what was left.

When it was over I did NOT say “Don’t tell Mom.” This time it was okay to tell mom. I mustered up as much enthusiasm as I could and said, “Guys, you gotta tell Mom what just happened. That was awesome!” They ran into the house and told Mom (Jean) the story in great detail.


We love remembering and retelling that story. It remains a primary piece of our family lore. We were at our quirky demented best that day. Maybe you had to be there.