The Beetle

One day my son found a stag beetle outside. He made a comfortable home for it inside a bug cage so that he could show it to me when I arrived at home.

Before returning the beetle to the yard he wanted to hold it one last time. We watched as it crawled around his hand and out onto his thumb.

As he tried to take the beetle off his thumb, it grabbed on. Digging in its needle-sharp hooked legs it clung tighter the harder he pulled.

We could not pry the beetle loose. My son, fearful he would never be free of this insect companion, expressed some…. concern.

I put my hand next to his and the beetle, of its own accord, crawled onto my fingers. Then, I walked outside and put a stick next to my hand. The beetle crawled onto the stick. I placed the stick in the grass and my son and I went back inside.

This happened a couple of years ago, but I still recall the story when something seems harder than it should be.