I don't know at what point we can start referring to this as a beetle situation, dear reader, but his name is Captain Haddock and he's really the sweetest thing.
He belongs to Caroline, my fellow beetle lover...and oh my goodness, I just noticed her t-shirt and I promise, that is a total coincidence.
But it completely makes my day.
We stay up late at night sometimes, looking at our beetles.
The only thing better than looking at a beetle is watching your daughter look at a beetle.
Perhaps not better, per se, but very nice all the same.
Here's one thing I want my girls to cultivate: the power of observation. I want them to stand back, to look, notice, and observe. I want them to see things...big things and little things. I want them to take in the skies, the forest, the tree, and the beetle. I want them to think about what they can't see--the past and the future, the universe and beyond, someone's feelings.
A word about the desert darkling beetle...he really is the most lovely pet. He's so appreciative of the tiniest effort. You know? Like, if you set him on a piece of watermelon, you can practically hear him say ohthankyouthankyouthankyou when he finally comes up for air.
None of this moody eyerolling and asking why can't it be dung?
I guess that's the dubious advantage of being indigenous to the desert: you know good hydration when you see it.
Beyond that, he looks like some sort of butler in a trench coat with long, rickety legs. And his little antennae...they wave back and forth in such a constant, searching way.
It makes me wonder what he's taking in.