Chapter 15 - Tastes Like Chicken

Fifteen years ago, the grass covering the baseball fields of suburban Alabama was of the Saint Augustine variety which thrived in the humidity of the southern climate. In fact it was used throughout the southeast because of its hearty nature and ability to grow thick and green. The only problem with St. Augustine grass was that if you rolled around in it, your skin began to itch and the urge to scratch became uncontrollable. Most people did not spend their time rolling around in their front lawns and ballfields, so it did not affect that many people. The group of people it affected the most were school aged children. That group was most likely found rolling around in grass any day of the week.
The other problem with St. Augustine grass was that it could grow extremely thick in some areas. It could get so dense that it could cause a lawn mower blade to stop turning and kill the mower’s engine. This problem is what led to the following discovery.
Upon having one’s lawn mower stop due to thick grass, the previously mowed section of lawn would become a massive movement of activity. It was as if the crickets, ants and other insects knew that the mower was safely stopped for the moment and they used the opportunity to collect themselves and try to pick up the pieces of their recently destroyed homes. One such episode of this disruption gave Jack the opportunity to catch a large quantity of crickets. He liked to go fishing and crickets were, in his opinion, the best form of bait. Jack put all of the crickets he could catch into a small brown paper bag and carefully folded the top over several times to keep the little critters inside. He set the bag aside, and finished mowing the lawn. After putting the lawn mower away, he came back to pick up the bag of crickets. Because it was still early in the day, he grabbed his fishing rod and headed down the street toward Clint’s house which backed up against a wooded area.
When Jack got to Clint’s house, nobody answered the front door. So he walked around back and climbed over the chain link fence to get to the beginning of the woods. He had to fight his way through a mess of weeds and sticker bushes, but eventually came to a narrow path that began a slight descent toward the small creek hidden beneath the dense tree canopy.
Jack found a spot near one of the bends in the creek. The spot was quiet and far enough above the water to avoid most of the mosquitos and other biting flies. He set up his fishing rod and carefully isolated one of the crickets from his bretheren inside the bag. He re-sealed the bag and pulled the lone cricket out. Jack took a moment to look at the cricket’s bulbous black eyes and marveled at the way the sun glinted off of each individual microscopic hexagon that covered the surface of the cricket’s eye. He then picked up the fishing hook and inserted the barb into the cricket’s abdomen. After casting his line into the water below, he waited. He watched. He wondered.
There were no immediate tugs on the fishing line. After several minutes Jack started to wish that he had brought more than just his pole and bait. He was starting to get hungry and had zero appetizing food with him. The crickets inside the brown paper bag were making their individual escape attempts by jumping noisily inside the walls of the bag. Each futile attempt at escape sounded a slight scrape against the paper.
Jack checked the line once more and slowly reeled in his baited hook. He pulled the line out of the water and saw that the bait was still there. He cast the line again and waited some more. There was a slight breeze that occasionally made its way through the trees and onto his face. It felt refreshing, but his pangs of hunger were increasing in intensity. Finally, he grabbed the paper bag and pulled out another cricket. This one was fat and wriggly. Jack squeezed the insect firmly between his thumb and forefinger and tossed it in his mouth. He bit down promptly on the cricket before it could start jumping around his mouth or down his throat. The juice of the cricket’s insides was warm and slightly salty with a tinge of bitterness. It tasted like eating a saltine cracker with a juicy chicken-flavored wild mushroom on top. Jack could vividly imagine what the gourmet hors d’oreve would look like at a fancy party. A fine crystal platter with a pleasing arrangement of delicate salted tea crackers each with a neat placement of a piece of roasted chicken next to a wild mushroom covered with a sprinkle of finely chopped green onions. He laughed and finished the bag of crickets.