joelletheladyug

[joelletheladyug]

Prologue

As a kid, my grandfather would always joke with me in the evenings we spent together at his trailer: “I think its time we go outside and feed the mosquitoes!” He’d say after dinner. I would protest, showing him the leg of mosquito bites I had already acquired from being outside with them all day. “Bugs have to eat too!” he’d tease. Pappy taught me how to catch grasshoppers and pick up snakes so they wouldn’t milk on you, and when I couldn’t eat all my dinner he would put on a really disappointed face and say “I think I saw a mouse outside who can’t find his family, if you take one more bite he’ll be able to find them again”, along with other weird made-up stories about the critters in the backyard, until I took enough bites to finish my plate. I think it was through him that I realized, in a kid sort of way, that the things I did affected my backyard friends. It was possibly through his overly exaggerated stories, that gave the animals and bugs a sense of self-agency outside of my enjoyment of catching them in butterfly nets. Whether the stories were truly representative of the life of non-humans or not, they encouraged me to leave the frog at the pond instead of keeping it in a hot glass jar all day like the other trailer-park kids, so it could “go back to find his mommy” at the end of the day. Pappy taught me to wish it well as it hopped back into the pond: “Be safe out there! See you tomorrow!”. As a kid, I thought it was the bugs that felt sad when they had been separated from their homes for too long, but it was really just me, understanding in my own way, that although smaller, they had their own hopes and aspirations; I was feeling sad for them if I had played with them for too long. Later, I’d obviously realize that those hopes and aspirations were a lot more different than wanting to hug and kiss their mommies after they played in the pond for the day, but they were no less valid than mine.

             As I grew up, I spent more time with my mom in city apartments over Big-Bees or in someone else’s renovated attic. She tried her best to find the nicest place we could get, and I always remember her saying “oh but it’s a basement apartment, there’ll be too many bugs” when she would read rental ads in the paper. And when the bugs would almost spitefully make their way to the third storey of our place, my mom would burst into tears over a spider hanging from the curtain rod, or scream over the centipede hiding in our cupboards. This definitely rubbed off on me because I went from the kid who cried when another trailer park kid crushed the praying mantis I befriended, to my mom’s helpful bug swatter whenever a spider would freak her out. I took this talent to the playgrounds in school, as being the only girl that could crush a bug was one of my defining personality traits. “Its just a bug” I would say, as I whacked the spider with a ruler, hoping this would build rep as the new kid. However, internally, my stomach would flip upon the ruler’s impact. They never creeped me out when they were alive, it was killing them that made my hairs stand up.

             Eventually, as my desire to impress others with relentless bug massacres wore off, my relationship with insects became less violent and more distant. If a creepy-crawler had made its way to the walls of my bedroom, I’d shoo it outside, as killing it wasn’t really worth it, but letting it stay wasn’t really an option either. Sometimes, when I’d scoop it into a Tupperware before helping it outside, I’d say a sort of silent prayer, similar to the ones my grandfather taught me, wishing that it would find itself a new home somewhere else.

[joelletheladyug]

Leading Questions

A month ago, I noticed that a ladybug had somehow made its way into my room, finding refuge on one of the posters I had hung on my wall. Winter had begun, and its pretty polka-dotted exterior made me re-consider my usual shoo method. So, this time I decided to ignore the insect, and “let nature take its course”, thinking it would make its way to another room and become someone else’s problem. However, after that I would find the bug drinking the condensation droplets on my window each morning, and fluttering around my desk lamp at night. After three weeks of trying to ignore it, I decided that the insect had proven its resilience, and deserved a helping hand. Attempting to feed it cucumbers turned into googling “a lady-bug’s diet”, which turned into a trip to the dollar store to find raisins and a fish bowl, which turned into a whole day dedicated to making this centimeter-sized creature an open-lid terrarium equipped with fresh flowers and an endless supply of moist raisins and damp paper towels. All the while questioning my mental health. Spending almost two months with this bug, now named Joëlle, or Joe for short, had me thinking a lot about my past relationships with bugs, and the full circle that has brought me to him. What was it about those almost-human stories my grandfather would tell me that gave me so much empathy towards these tiny creatures as a kid? Did the stories’ emphasis on the human experience result in my disregard for insects once I realized how different a bug’s life was from mine? And, what has changed in my life that has lead to my separation from my once loved friends? The following journal entries hope to answer those questions, with the help from academic research and my own personal reflection, to hopefully reflect on my growth as a human and caregiver.

[joelletheladyug]

[joelletheladyug]

Some Context

             I really didn’t expect this to be as intense of an emotional and ethical roller coaster as I thought it would be when I first decided to see Joelle as a pet rather than a pest. This type of “bug catching” is a lot different than the catch and release I did as a kid. In the beginning I thought I was going above and beyond for this little creature, but as I did more research on the complexity of the spotted beetle, I realized theres a lot I don’t know about him. First of all, I’m not sure if he’s male or female, because apparently its hard to tell. Second, I learned that Ladybugs live one to three years, so this could take me until spring when I hope to release him. And third, he’s supposed to sleeping right now because its winter and ladybugs hibernate instead of migrating, so my whole saviour complex was totally destroyed when I realized I might be doing him more harm than good by feeding him and keeping him awake with the warm temperatures of my room these past few months. Other sources say he’ll be fine living off moist raisins and cucumbers until the spring, but I worry that he either needs a cooler place to sleep, or a supply of aphids, which I don’t have. Apparently, they need cold, but not too cold temperatures by huddling up with other ladybirds (which humans have called a “loveliness”, by the way) in order to sleep, but none of these options are available to him right now as its freezing cold out and I have no idea where to find a loveliness. So as of now, I’m keeping my room cool, and his bowl moist by spritzing it with water every day and putting out new cucumber and raisin slices, which he can apparently make do off of, but I stare at him wondering if he’s really fiending for a good bug egg or a good nap. Sometimes he doesn’t move for a really long time and I think he’s finally gone into hibernation, but then he’ll get a burst of energy and I’ll get confused. So, to save myself the grief I remind myself that he made his way into my room, and that whatever happens at least we tried… Here’s a rant from my rough journal that really expresses the frustrations I’ve been feeling with keeping Joe alive:

I feel like he’s just stuck and maybe getting weaker every day :/ IDK and then there’s times where it looks like he is finally hibernating under the lip of my plant pit and I feel good about it… I wish he would just stay there till spring so I’d be less stressed knowing he’s finally hibernating but he moves around sometimes and I wonder if it’s because he’s hungry or something so it freaks me out ah! And all these websites say different things about it’s care and I’m not a bug scientist so it’s just a guessing game of whether he’s gonna die in here or not! I mean he’s made it a month and a half but also idk! It’s all really stressful to me and I’m realizing how much more u can care about something once u realize how complicated it is… the more I learn about Joes needs and how he doesn’t have them here the more I worry. I would say just letting him find his own way would be the easiest way to look at it, to let nature take its course, but my room isn’t rlly nature so the odds are kinda against him… maybe if my cats ate him it would be okay… because they’d just be doing what they’re supposed to do… what am I supposed to be doing?

… And then theres this poem I wrote when I was getting really existential about everything, which Ill attach in another post…

[joelletheladyug]

Existential Poem

I’ve considered eating those mushrooms that make your mind expand

So that maybe I would be able to understand you better

I’ve turned off the things in my room that make sound,

So that maybe I would be able to hear you better

In those moments when you decide to come out from hiding

And your tiny wings crackle on the ceiling

And you remind me that you’re still alive

 I’ve considered putting a lid on the place I put you in

So that you won’t go hiding on me anymore

And you’d be safe from all my things that could hurt you

But my worst fear is that I hurt you in trying to help you

So I wanna let you help yourself

And then maybe you can show me what you need

[joelletheladyug]

Inside Lives

Yuya Fukano and Masashi Soga hypothesize in their article, Why do so many modern people hate insects? The urbanization-disgust hypothesis that urbanization is a main cause of insect disgust for humans due to the reduction of opportunities to experience nature, thus insects, and the loss of identification ability of insects. They argue that one, “urbanization increases the seeing of insects indoors and insects seen indoors induce stronger disgust than outdoor insects” and two, that “urbanization reduces insect knowledge, and this decreased knowledge results in a wider range of insects that elicit disgust” (Fukano & Soga, 1). Both of these arguments make a lot of sense to me, as seeing a bug enter one’s home rather than beside them on a picnic bench seems to create a lot more of a dramatic reaction than the latter. In recognizing this, I want to sort through the process of inviting this insect into my home, relationally. I can reflect back to the summers I spent with my grandfather in the pond at the trailer, and recognize how unbothered I was by the bugs that would fly around my face, and see how that relationship transitioned when I spent more time on the upper floors of city apartments with my mom, who feared bugs with a passion. In this sense, Fukano and Soga’s research is true, so by understanding that my lack of exposure has caused my separation from the insect world, I want to take my time with Joe to not only bring me closer to a bug’s life (as much as it can be, indoors), warm me up to inviting an insect into my urban space, and explore what that’s like. So far, I’d say its stressful, as if I wish to be a good host, I hope to give him what he needs, but we’re having a hard time communicating what that is, and the environment of my room is a lot different than the home he’s used to. For now I’m relying on a lot of google searches and trial and error. What’s helped the most though, is the combination of research and observing his behaviour. I notice he’s really into crevices and he actually likes the cucumbers better than the raisins so far, so I’ve made many arrangements to his home, hoping to find the perfect combo to make him sleep for the winter, and if not, keep him alive until April or May. Anyway, the more I research about him, the more warmth I feel towards him. I haven’t touched him with my bare hands yet because I’m afraid he might be so hungry that he’ll bite me, but I move his leaves more casually, and I get really close to see his little feelers dance around. In this case, Fukano and Soga’s graph, which I’ve attached below, is also very true.

[joelletheladyug]

On Our Vulnerability

Sometimes trying to care for Joe really gets to my head and I feel all ethical and caring, as if I didn’t drown the fruit flies that found their way into my room last summer with a vinegar trap. Spending time with Joe, now trying to accept the little ones more freely, has me thinking about this whole hierarchy of critters we’ve established as humans. In Vinciane Despret’s book, What would Animals say if we Asked the Right Questions?, they ask, “what makes for a grievable life?”, adding that this question imposes itself on humans, “as we live within a world in which beings are dependant on one another and, above all, are vulnerable to and for others” (Despret, 86). But what happens when we as humans have separated ourselves so far from insects that we kill out of inconvenience rather than out of survival? Then in this case, I think, in a more empathetic world, our killing of a fruit fly would extend past grief into guilt. Personally, I wouldn’t let fruit flies infest my home, but in considering their extermination as loss, I might become more aware of my home in position to theirs. How my house stands on their existence, and maybe consider some way to thank them for that. Despret states, “This vulnerability emerges from active involvement in a responsible relation, a relation through which every being learns to respond and from which he learns to respond: it is through the grief one undergoes that life comes to matter; it is by accepting this grief that it counts. Taking the risk of vulnerability by facing up to grief so that vulnerable lives do not count for nothing, so that they “count as lives,” assuming a becoming vulnerable together with and differently from animals, seems to me one way of responding to Haraway’s proposition to create stories with companion species” (87).

[joelletheladyug]

[joelletheladyug]

“How might we relate to the liveliness of other creatures in terms more than human?” (Maclear)

Joe, you really have me sweating the small stuff these days… I’m trying to find ways to cut these tiny raisins even tinier so you can get at the sweet part, and I’m trying to position these cucumbers in a way that you can crawl up on them properly. I’m trying to make my big things smaller for you, like cutting bottle caps even smaller, and cutting paper towels down to your size. You, I think, probably incapable of understanding the effort I’ve put in to care for you the way I would understand, take what I’ve put out for you, and it is your taking, and staying alive, that is the most rewarding to me.

[joelletheladyug]

I get really nervous that he got trapped somewhere whenever he goes missing for a bit, but he always manages to show up on the ceiling soon after

[joelletheladyug]

When Joe Hides

“Its when you can’t see them that freaks me out” my mom would say“,because you don’t know where they went” Like you’re some sort of monster hiding in the shadows, Waiting to wreak havoc the next chance you get, When really you just want some food, Or maybe a warm corner to rest, The more I learn about you the more friendly you get.

Franklin Ginn ponders the ethics and relationships between gardeners and slugs in his paper, Sticky lives: slugs, detachment and human ethics in the garden, where he asks, “what kind of ethics can emerge when we do not encounter beings, when ‘we’ are not sticky together, but are ‘unstuck’ when we attempt to anticipate their movements, detach ourselves from them and erase them before we ever meet” (534).

[joelletheladyug]

A Silly Tik Tok I made the day I decided to befriend him, just 4 fun

[joelletheladyug]

Works Cited

Despret, Vinciane, and Brett Buchanan. What Would Animals Say If We Asked the Right Questions? Vinciane Despret. 2016. EBSCOhost, search-ebscohost-com.libaccess.lib.mcmaster.ca/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsbas&AN=edsbas.646010B6&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Franklin Ginn. “Sticky Lives: Slugs, Detachment and More-than-Human Ethics in the Garden.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, vol. 39, no. 4, Jan. 2014, pp. 532–544. EBSCOhost, search-ebscohost-com.libaccess.lib.mcmaster.ca/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsjsr&AN=edsjsr.24582928&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Fukano, Yuya, and Masashi Soga. “Why Do so Many Modern People Hate Insects? The Urbanization–disgust Hypothesis.” Science of the Total Environment, vol. 777, July 2021. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1016/j.scitotenv.2021.146229.

Maclear, Kyo. “A Small Walk.” BRICK, https://brickmag.com/a-small-walk/.

MacLeod, Alexander. “LAGOMORPH.” GRANTA, no. 141, Sept. 2017, pp. 57–76. EBSCOhost, search-ebscohost-com.libaccess.lib.mcmaster.ca/login.aspx?direct=true&db=asx&AN=126338132&site=eds-live&scope=site.