Absolutely, arthropods (including insects, of course) were my very first special interest. My parents say that one of my first words was “caterpillar,” and one of my earliest memories is when I was about three, holding a book out to a spider on the floor and calling “Here, spider!” (I wanted to hold it but didn’t want it to bite me, so having it climb onto the book seemed like a reasonable compromise) Any arthropod found in the house gets caught and released outside, never killed (as long as I’m around, at least) (we have a cup with a lid whose dedicated purpose is for catching the wasps and stinkbugs that sometimes get in around the living room window, so we can (hopefully) catch them without getting stung or stinked).One of my favorites is the praying mantis, probably in part because I don’t find them very often (which isn’t necessarily to say they aren’t there, I just don’t come across them), so it feels special when I do.
Can’t say I’m particularly fond of the ones that drink human blood (especially ones like fleas and ticks that stay on their host instead of just stopping by for a sip like mosquitoes). No problem with cockroaches, though, one time my parents were talking to a college friend for an hour-ish and I spent the entire time occupying myself with a cockroach I’d found on the floor. And ants cleaning themselves are simply adorable (can’t say I’m fond of them getting in the house, though, because there isn’t really a way to get rid of them without killing any).
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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"