Glory Ho

You know those people who, upon finding a spider inside the house, feel it best to transfer that spider to a nearby napkin and carry it to outdoor safety? I’ve always thought this was a bit silly, to be honest. What’s one spider, really? I mean, I’m not going to alter the space time continuum by saving this fly-eating, web-spinning, face-biting-in-the-middle-of-the-night bug. But I think I just got it.

We have cockroaches, as I just might have mentioned. They’re not out of control, but they are consistent. We see at least one every day, often more than a few. It’s actually gotten so bad that I am paranoid of any dark spots against a white background. Often, my eyes, while focused on the computer or a book, will imagine a moving dark spot off to the left or right and I’ll jump my stare there only to discover a piece of fuzz . But I digress. So, a few hours ago, I saw one come from under the couch, making it’s way across the floor. Right in front of me. I mean, the stupid thing didn’t even run when I got up to get my napkin from the drawer. It was when my shadow came down that it freaked. But it was too late then. I got it. And to make sure they die, since as some of you may know (though hopefully you don’t) they don’t die all that easily, I smashed and twisted the napkin good and hard. And I’m not kidding. Right then, killing that cockroach, I felt like the energy of killing and twisting and smashing the body of that stupid bug just wasn’t so good. And I would kill it again in a minute. No problem. It was, after all, in my territory. But it got my thinking that the act of me actually killing or torturing any living thing, assuming that deer/squirrel/pigeon was doing me no harm (cockroaches do not apply here as there is nowhere to let them go where they won’t crawl right back in the house), just isn’t good energy. I mean, shouldn’t we treat living things how we would like to be treated?

Where I grew up on the driftwood and shell-boasting beaches of the Mississippi, catching frogs, lizards, turtles and snakes was a favorite pastime. Often, my brothers and I would find one in the nearby creek. Other times, our Dad would discover a frog in some old drain pipe at the farm or come upon a turtle crossing the pavement near Meradocia road. We would then place this creature into captivity. Either an old white pesticide bucket or this delightful Tom-Sawyer-reminiscent-like wood and wire crafted cage. It even had a homemade rope handle. Then, we would watch the frogs hop around in the grass, catch glimpses of the snakes fork tongue, examine the turtle’s kaleidoscope underbelly or feel the skin of the salamander. After a few days, my Dad, sympathetic to the earth under all that calloused skin of his, would announce between bites of corn on the cob that we needed to “let that thing go.” A few times, we left the poor frog out in the sun to bake only to discover it frozen, a Jurassic-park like look about its specimen-stiff body. Sad, but mostly fascinated and confused, we would then dispose of our no-longer-slimy friend.

But I wonder how those animals were faring in our handy cages and buckets (provided they were kept in the shade). I guess I have a little more sympathy now, that’s all. I’ve read that animals (nevermind bugs) can, in fact, feel some emotions. Fear and pain for certain. Think about your dog and I imagine you’ll tell me they experience even more. Most importantly, just because we’re the superior species doesn’t give us the right to be a bully. What if there were another species 25 times our size and when they saw us, put us in a bucket and kept us in captivity for a few days. Then, when they let us go, did so a few miles from where they found us. All just because they were, perhaps, further evolved.

But I know, I know, we are the superior species. What my brothers and I did as children wasn’t atrocious. I’ve no regrets. We were only curious about reptiles and amphibians. And if my children are lucky enough to live by a creek, I promise to catch frogs with my bare hands and pick up snappers with a stick. But I will, just as my father did, keep the captivity short-lived. I will ensure my children respect the species. And I’ll be certain to let them go where I found them.

Like I said, I’m still killing cockroaches. But maybe if there’s a suitable outlet for other unwelcome pests in the future, I will use it.