This morning as I was getting ready for work, I saw movement in the corner of the kitchen. Hoping it wasn’t a cockroach, I approached. It was a cricket. Normally, when I find insects inside the house, I catch them and take them outside, as I’m fond of most insects and arachnids. So I go to catch Mr. Cricket and that’s when Hobkin wakes up.
Now Hobkin’s godmother lets her skunks hunt grasshoppers and suggested it as a “camp activity” for Hobkin. We never did get a report on how that exercise went, so I was curious to see what Hobkin would do. I point out the hopping cricket to the cunning, sly hunter, and . . . nothing happens. No, correction, Hobkin totally ignores the cricket and instead wanders over to the refrigerator and sits in front of it, waiting for me to fix his breakfast. Oh, and the cricket hops under the couch, where I can’t catch it. Sigh.
Okay, Hobkin isn’t built like a hunter. He’s sort of roly-poly and bottom-heavy, and his legs are a bit on the stumpy side. He doesn’t have the grace and fluid speed of a cat, nor the dedicated attention span of hunting dogs. But I have seen him pounce on Tupperware that I’ve dropped or sent rattling across the kitchen floor for him to chase. That should have tipped me off, actually. Hobkin knows where food comes from. Tupperware! Of course calling what he does a “pounce” is somewhat misleading. If Tupperware had legs with which to scuttle away on its own, Hobkin would never be able to catch it.
As hunters go, skunks aren’t. Or at least my skunk isn’t.
And now there’s a cricket loose in my house.