For some of you, winter is rapidly approaching. If you’re tempted to grumble about the cold, read on and you’ll never complain again.
I grew up in a temperate climate. One of the unappreciated benefits of a place that has a cold winter is the death of insects before they can grow overly big or, worse yet, mutate.
Then I came to Kenya.
Kenya doesn’t get cold enough to kill anything off. Even the annual weeds are perennials. And the insects are forever. So they just grow… and grow… and over time, they mutate.
Take for instance the crazy crickets. They look like the insect version of a tank, their black shells just as thick and impenetrable. They don’t move for anyone; if they’re heading in your direction, you jump out of their way.
You don’t want to step on them – it’s very messy and loud. But if you want to attempt it: Do. Not. Miss.… You’ll only get one shot at it.
How ‘bout those spiders? Some are as big as my palm and like to live behind picture frames. These creepy creatures lie flat against the wall and just as you walk by, they skitter out in front of you at alarming speeds while rapidly changing direction.
Which is kind of like the way we drive here.
Anyways, spiders are supposed to have eight legs. Thing is, a lot of the spiders I see dashing across the walls or slipping under my bed have five, six or seven legs. I’ve even seen a few with four. Or four and a half.
I’m not sure if they’re born that way, or if in the process of skittering and dashing, they eat each other’s extra limbs.
While all the creepiness is very inspiring for the writer in me, the human in me is pretty grossed out.
So please, the next time you’re tempted to complain about a cold winter, remember my giant, mutant insects.
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