On Friday night, just after candle lighting, Volucris spotted a giant locust on our windowsill. By giant, I mean 10 centimeters long. And he* was not on the outside, mind you, but on the inside. We do not know how he got in, but in keeping with my usual custom that any living creature large enough to need its own zip code and manages to get into our home deserves a name, I optimistically christened him “Bismarck”. Not after the chancellor, but after the ship. The giant ship that was sunk on its maiden voyage. I had hopes that he’d quickly get out the same way he got in, and I would not have to deal with him. The girls freaked out, but Bismarck isn’t the first giant insect I have found here, and I figured that he would be gone by the time we returned from synagogue.
My hopes have been dashed. He was no longer on the windowsill when we returned. No, he has taken up residence on a ladle in the pasta drainer on the kitchen counter. Volucris won’t let me take Bismarck out the the door (the balcony door) as he is sure Bizzy is molting, and he wants to watch.
In my pasta drainer.
On my ladle.
I’m pretty sure that Volucris is also responsible for the lettuce that has appeared on the bottom of the drainer.
And here I was concerned about not getting to see any nature now that we’ve moved to the city.
*I’m just guessing it’s a he. I haven’t actually asked.
P.S. Don’t tell the girls. They don’t know that he’s there.