Read The Grasshopper Trap Online
Authors: Patrick F. McManus
The Grasshopper Trap (10 page)
In the time of my youth, the eighth birthday was special because that was the one at which your first pocketknife was bestowed upon you. Seven-year-olds were considered too immature and irresponsible to carry knives. Only when you turned eight did you grasp the absolute wisdom of this parental policy. It suddenly became quite obvious that the only reason God had made seven-year-olds at all was to heighten the satisfaction of eight-year-olds in owning a pocketknife.
“C'mon, lemme whittle with your knife, Jack,” a seven-year-old brother would beg.
“Sorry, Willy, I can't do it,” the eight-year-old would respond maturely. “You're too little.”
“But, Jack, you cut
yourself
!”
yourself
!”
“Yeah, but I'm bigger, see. I got more blood. I can spare the blood.”
When parents made the presentation of the pocketknife,
they always warned the kid, “Now don't cut yourself!” For some reason it was generally assumed that cutting himself was high on the kid's list of priorities.
they always warned the kid, “Now don't cut yourself!” For some reason it was generally assumed that cutting himself was high on the kid's list of priorities.
The kid did four things with his new knife. First, he whittled a stick. Second, he cut himself. Third, he sharpened the knife. Fourth, he lost it. All four activities occurred within approximately twenty-four hours after the knife was presented to him. Many authorities on the subject believe that the fourth thing the kid did with his first knife was to break the point off the big blade trying to pry the cap off a bottle of pop, but they are wrong. That always happened to the second knife. The first knife was never around long enough for the kid to think of prying a pop-bottle cap off with it.
Let's consider in more detail the four applications of the first knife during its brief history.
Whittlingâ
You would select a straight-grained piece of cedar from the kindling box and reduce it to a pile of shavings. These shavings would then take on a life of their own, migrating to the sofa, your mother's favorite rug, and the linen closet. They would turn up on your father's new suit and your sister's party dress. It was not unusual to find one sailing across a bowl of gravy during supper. The shavings seemed to reproduce themselves. After being freed from the stick, they went forth and multiplied. Parental threats against your person also multiplied, and you would from time to time hear muttered accusations exchanged between mother and father about whose idea it was to give you a knife anyway. Still, there was no turning back. Once you had whittled, you had the need always to whittle.
You would select a straight-grained piece of cedar from the kindling box and reduce it to a pile of shavings. These shavings would then take on a life of their own, migrating to the sofa, your mother's favorite rug, and the linen closet. They would turn up on your father's new suit and your sister's party dress. It was not unusual to find one sailing across a bowl of gravy during supper. The shavings seemed to reproduce themselves. After being freed from the stick, they went forth and multiplied. Parental threats against your person also multiplied, and you would from time to time hear muttered accusations exchanged between mother and father about whose idea it was to give you a knife anyway. Still, there was no turning back. Once you had whittled, you had the need always to whittle.
Cutting Yourself
âCuts were not distributed randomly about your body, as many mothers feared and predicted. They were almost always confined to the section between
the first and second knuckles on the index finger of the hand opposite the one that held the knife. Usually the first knife was only around long enough to produce one cut. This cut came as a great surprise and was never the result of carelessness but of some extraordinary circumstance. “A gust of wind blew my hand,” you would tell your mother. As she applied the bandage, she would wonder aloud if the bloodstains would come out of her favorite rug, your father's white shirt, your sister's party dress, the drapes, and various other odds and ends. You move around quite a lot during the ten seconds or so immediately following your first cut.
âCuts were not distributed randomly about your body, as many mothers feared and predicted. They were almost always confined to the section between
the first and second knuckles on the index finger of the hand opposite the one that held the knife. Usually the first knife was only around long enough to produce one cut. This cut came as a great surprise and was never the result of carelessness but of some extraordinary circumstance. “A gust of wind blew my hand,” you would tell your mother. As she applied the bandage, she would wonder aloud if the bloodstains would come out of her favorite rug, your father's white shirt, your sister's party dress, the drapes, and various other odds and ends. You move around quite a lot during the ten seconds or so immediately following your first cut.
Sharpening the Knife
âActing on the folk wisdom of the day that it was the dull knife that cut fingers, you would get out the whetstone and hone your knife's blades, one big and one little, down to about one-half their former dimensions. Now you had what was known as a
sharp
knife. You would take the knife in to show your mother and father, and tell them, “Look, my knife's sharp as a razor!” Your father would smile and go back to reading his paper, and your mother would make a show of turning pale. Later you would wonder if maybe you had overplayed your hand in comparing the knife's sharpness to that of a razor.
âActing on the folk wisdom of the day that it was the dull knife that cut fingers, you would get out the whetstone and hone your knife's blades, one big and one little, down to about one-half their former dimensions. Now you had what was known as a
sharp
knife. You would take the knife in to show your mother and father, and tell them, “Look, my knife's sharp as a razor!” Your father would smile and go back to reading his paper, and your mother would make a show of turning pale. Later you would wonder if maybe you had overplayed your hand in comparing the knife's sharpness to that of a razor.
Losing the Knife
âThe disappearance of your knife had a certain eerie quality to it. You would remember having placed the knife carefully on top of your dresser when you turned in for the night. The next morning it would be gone.
âThe disappearance of your knife had a certain eerie quality to it. You would remember having placed the knife carefully on top of your dresser when you turned in for the night. The next morning it would be gone.
“I can't find my knife,” you'd tell your father.
“What?” he'd yell. “You just got it! That knife set me back a whole dollar! How could you be so careless as to lose it already?” He would continue to carry on in such a fashion for the better part of an hour, the authenticity of his ravings relieving him of any suspicion in the knife's disappearance.
“I can't find my knife,” you'd tell your mother.
“Don't bother me now,” she'd say. “I have to sort the wash.”
Somehow the urgency of your mother's having to sort the wash and the disappearance of your knife seemed related, but you could never find any real proof of maternal culpability.
Having once owned a knife, you now discovered that the craving to whittle was almost overpowering. You couldn't look at a piece of cedar kindling without being overcome with the urge to reduce it to shavings with your own pocketknife. But there were only two options open to you for acquiring a new knife. The first consisted of finding a job and earning enough money to buy one, but there were few employment opportunities for eight-year-olds. Consequently, you resorted to the child's version of the credit card: begging.
Sooner or later, begging would produce a second knife. The second knife would bear an uncanny resemblance to the first knife. Your mother would explain that she found it in the attic. Reluctantly offering it to you, she would advise, “Now don't cut yourself!”
Whittling was the main application of the pocketknife. You would whittle chains out of a single block of wood, as your grandfather had done, although you never progressed beyond the first link, which uninformed observers often mistook for a notch cut in the end of a piece of kindling.
Willow flutes were turned out by the gross. Inexplicably, the flutes would stubbornly refuse to produce a single toot, but they were great for humming through. Sometimes you could cut off the end of the flute and come up with a passable peashooter, which, smartly aimed, could produce a high C note from one of your associates.
Of all the satisfactions to result from owning a knife,
perhaps the greatest was the one of lending it to somebody, preferably a grownup, to perform some cutting chore. Sometimes you'd wait a year or two for such an opportunity. Then it would happen. You and a couple of your sidekicks would be standing about watching an adult perform some task, anything from undoing a sack of grain to overhauling an engine. No doubt the adult would have expressed some displeasure about the presence of his young audience, largely because it limited the use of colorful expressions in the release of frustration. You and the guys would be a bit nervous, but not enough to reduce your curiosity about the task being performed, or the hope you would get to hear a colorful expression. Then the adult would straighten up and dig into his pants pockets. Not finding what he sought, he would fix his attention on the spectators and speak the long-awaited words:
perhaps the greatest was the one of lending it to somebody, preferably a grownup, to perform some cutting chore. Sometimes you'd wait a year or two for such an opportunity. Then it would happen. You and a couple of your sidekicks would be standing about watching an adult perform some task, anything from undoing a sack of grain to overhauling an engine. No doubt the adult would have expressed some displeasure about the presence of his young audience, largely because it limited the use of colorful expressions in the release of frustration. You and the guys would be a bit nervous, but not enough to reduce your curiosity about the task being performed, or the hope you would get to hear a colorful expression. Then the adult would straighten up and dig into his pants pockets. Not finding what he sought, he would fix his attention on the spectators and speak the long-awaited words:
“Anybody got a knife on 'im?”
Ah, how delicious was the sound of that request! Even better was if the adult looked directly at you and asked, “Gotcher knife on ya?”
Your
knife. This indicated that the adult thought you the sort of mature and self-reliant and reliable person who would obviously carry a pocketknife.
Your
knife. This indicated that the adult thought you the sort of mature and self-reliant and reliable person who would obviously carry a pocketknife.
If it happened that the other kids in the audience didn't have knives, had never owned knives, and even if they were only six or seven years old, they would still dig into their pockets and feel around among the contents in order to give the impression that they
usually,
almost
always,
had a knife on 'em but through some miserable stroke of fate had managed to leave it at home.
usually,
almost
always,
had a knife on 'em but through some miserable stroke of fate had managed to leave it at home.
Your response to the question of whether you had a knife on you had been thought through months and possibly years in advance. If you were fortunate enough to be chewing
on a toothpick, you would reach up slowly, deliberately, and remove the toothpick, then flick it back over your shoulder, possibly creating the impression in the adult that you couldn't chew a toothpick and reach for a knife at the same time, but no matter. There was a right way to do a thing and a wrong way, and this was the right way. Next you bent sideways from the hips, furrowed your brow slightly, and dug your hand into the pocket of your jeans, your fingers expertly sorting through such items as throwing rocks, a dried frog, a steel marble, your reserve wad of bubble gum, and the like, until they closed around the knife,
your
knife, the one that had been requested by an adult. You withdrew your knife with slow deliberation and expertly opened it, always selecting the big blade, of course. Then you handed it to the adult, who probably would have preferred to open the knife himself. And finally, at long last, you got to say it, not smugly or disrespectfully, of course, but matter-of-factly,
maturely,
and possibly with just the slightest touch of pride:
on a toothpick, you would reach up slowly, deliberately, and remove the toothpick, then flick it back over your shoulder, possibly creating the impression in the adult that you couldn't chew a toothpick and reach for a knife at the same time, but no matter. There was a right way to do a thing and a wrong way, and this was the right way. Next you bent sideways from the hips, furrowed your brow slightly, and dug your hand into the pocket of your jeans, your fingers expertly sorting through such items as throwing rocks, a dried frog, a steel marble, your reserve wad of bubble gum, and the like, until they closed around the knife,
your
knife, the one that had been requested by an adult. You withdrew your knife with slow deliberation and expertly opened it, always selecting the big blade, of course. Then you handed it to the adult, who probably would have preferred to open the knife himself. And finally, at long last, you got to say it, not smugly or disrespectfully, of course, but matter-of-factly,
maturely,
and possibly with just the slightest touch of pride:
“Careful you don't cut yourselfâthat blade is razor sharp.”
My dictionary informs me that the proper term for a group of larks is an
exaltation
. An exaltation of larks! That's wonderful! And it's so descriptively accurate.
You outdoorsmen probably think you're pretty smart and know all the terms for groups of creatures. We'll see about that right now.
Let's start with an easy one, a group of grouse. “Covey” you say, clapping your hands gleefully. But
covey
means a “family” of grouse. Suppose you have several families of grouse living together, what do you call that? If they're like the families I know, it would be a “mess.” Actually, a group of grouse larger than a covey is a
pack.
In the interest of linguistic purity it is important to know the difference between a covey and a pack of grouse. To do this you must learn to distinguish between members of the immediate family and distant relations who have moved in for a bit of
freeloading. This is not so difficult as you might think. The freeloaders are the grouse that get up at noon, go around unshaven, and keep asking, “What's for supper?”
covey
means a “family” of grouse. Suppose you have several families of grouse living together, what do you call that? If they're like the families I know, it would be a “mess.” Actually, a group of grouse larger than a covey is a
pack.
In the interest of linguistic purity it is important to know the difference between a covey and a pack of grouse. To do this you must learn to distinguish between members of the immediate family and distant relations who have moved in for a bit of
freeloading. This is not so difficult as you might think. The freeloaders are the grouse that get up at noon, go around unshaven, and keep asking, “What's for supper?”
Here's something a little tougher. What is the proper term for a group of ferrets? Don't just sit there scratching your headâguess. Okay, it's a
business
of ferrets. What business are the ferrets in? I don't know for sure, but it's probably loan-sharking.
business
of ferrets. What business are the ferrets in? I don't know for sure, but it's probably loan-sharking.
The next term is a cinchâa group of geese.
Flock
is correct, but only if the geese are standing around killing time. If the group of geese is flying, it becomes a
skein.
If the geese are on the water, they're a
gaggle.
Subtract fifty points from your score if to any of the above you answered “a bunch of gooses.”
Flock
is correct, but only if the geese are standing around killing time. If the group of geese is flying, it becomes a
skein.
If the geese are on the water, they're a
gaggle.
Subtract fifty points from your score if to any of the above you answered “a bunch of gooses.”
One of my favorites among the terms for groups of creatures is a
crash
of rhinoceros. I can imagine an African guide saying to his client, “Shoot, dammit, shoot! Here comes the whole bloody crash of rhinoceros!”
crash
of rhinoceros. I can imagine an African guide saying to his client, “Shoot, dammit, shoot! Here comes the whole bloody crash of rhinoceros!”
You toad hunters out there probably don't even know that a group of toads is called a
knot.
Personally, I think I'd just as soon come across a crash of rhinoceros as a knot of toad.
knot.
Personally, I think I'd just as soon come across a crash of rhinoceros as a knot of toad.
Some of my other favorite group terms are
⢠A
convocation
of eagles. (Not to be confused with a convention of Eagles, who are the ones wearing hats.)
convocation
of eagles. (Not to be confused with a convention of Eagles, who are the ones wearing hats.)
⢠A
charm
of hummingbirds.
charm
of hummingbirds.
⢠A
skulk
of foxes.
skulk
of foxes.
⢠A
chattering
of starlings.
chattering
of starlings.
⢠A
mustering
of storks.
mustering
of storks.
⢠An
unkindness
of ravens.
unkindness
of ravens.
⢠A
siege
of herons.
siege
of herons.
⢠A
leap
of leopards.
leap
of leopards.
⢠A
murder
of crows.
murder
of crows.
⢠A
screaming meemie
of snakes. (I just tossed that in.)
screaming meemie
of snakes. (I just tossed that in.)
To finish off this quiz and give you a chance to redeem yourself, here are two easy onesâa group of elk and a group of bears. The answers are a
gang
of elk and a
sloth
of bears. Surely you and your fellow outdoorsmen say things like, “All at once I found myself right in the middle of this gang of elk,” or maybe, “Look, Fred! Here comes a sloth of bears! Run!”
gang
of elk and a
sloth
of bears. Surely you and your fellow outdoorsmen say things like, “All at once I found myself right in the middle of this gang of elk,” or maybe, “Look, Fred! Here comes a sloth of bears! Run!”
I myself use all of the above terms, although it has been some time since I've come upon a leap of leopards. Actually, when it comes to group terms, I prefer “a whole mess of,” which is easy to remember in tense situations, such as when a sloth of bears is heading your way.
Sadly, there are no group names for outdoorsmen, who deserve their own group terms just as much as do other wild creatures. In the interest of lexicography, I have invented my own group terms.
Let's begin with Cub Scouts. As with geese, the group terms vary according to what the Cubs are doing. If they are meeting at someone else's house, for example, they are referred to as a
den.
If they are meeting at your house, they are a
din
of Cub Scouts, a very important distinction, believe me! A group of den mothers, the adult leaders of Cubs, is a
frazzle
. Collectively, the husbands of den mothers are
the weekly poker game.
den.
If they are meeting at your house, they are a
din
of Cub Scouts, a very important distinction, believe me! A group of den mothers, the adult leaders of Cubs, is a
frazzle
. Collectively, the husbands of den mothers are
the weekly poker game.
There are different names for groups of fishermen in different situations. A group of fishermen driving out to begin a day of fishing is an
exuberance.
If the day turns out
to be unsuccessful, the group is variously referred to as a
sulk
or a
grumble.
Fishermen surprised by a herd of mean cows (sometimes known as a
mayhem
of cows) become a
panic
of anglers or sometimes a
skein
of anglers. A group of ice fishermen is a
chatter
or a
chill,
although the term
loony
is often used, particularly by wives of ice fishermen.
exuberance.
If the day turns out
to be unsuccessful, the group is variously referred to as a
sulk
or a
grumble.
Fishermen surprised by a herd of mean cows (sometimes known as a
mayhem
of cows) become a
panic
of anglers or sometimes a
skein
of anglers. A group of ice fishermen is a
chatter
or a
chill,
although the term
loony
is often used, particularly by wives of ice fishermen.
As a group, spouses of fishermen off on a three-day lark, or even an exaltation of larks, are variously a
crash
of wives, a
leap
of wives, and sometimes a
murder
of wives. Often a single wife will appear to be a whole group under these circumstances and it is all right to use the appropriate group term, if you get the chance and think it will do you any good.
crash
of wives, a
leap
of wives, and sometimes a
murder
of wives. Often a single wife will appear to be a whole group under these circumstances and it is all right to use the appropriate group term, if you get the chance and think it will do you any good.
Strangely, there are few interesting group names for hunters. For example, a group of lost hunters is referred to as “a group of lost hunters,” although wives will occasionally refer to such a group as a
nincompoopery.
A boast of hunters refers to any group of hunters larger than one. A
tedium
is any group of hunters who get started talking about their first deer, first elk, or any of their other firsts, of which there are whole exaltations.
nincompoopery.
A boast of hunters refers to any group of hunters larger than one. A
tedium
is any group of hunters who get started talking about their first deer, first elk, or any of their other firsts, of which there are whole exaltations.
As a child, I once joined a
berserk
of kid campers heading for home after a mountain lion screamed near our camp. It might have been a whole
pride
of mountain lions, for all I know, but even one was excessive.
berserk
of kid campers heading for home after a mountain lion screamed near our camp. It might have been a whole
pride
of mountain lions, for all I know, but even one was excessive.
A
whiff
of skunk trappers is one of my favorite group terms, as is a
cramp
of camp cooks.
whiff
of skunk trappers is one of my favorite group terms, as is a
cramp
of camp cooks.
But what's that? Did I just hear a lark beckoning me? Gee, it may even be several larks, a whole exaltation of them. It's been a long time since I've gone off on an exaltation. If there's not a leap of wife outside my door, I might go investigate.
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