A love for bugs

Transforming fear into awe, one creepy crawler at a time.

Originally published on Substack in July of ‘24

Orchard Orbweaver with a smile by Katie Crawford

In his autobiography, Naturalist, entomologist E.O. Wilson invokes the Talmud, saying: “We see things not as they are, but as we are.”

Most of my life I have hated bugs, primarily spiders. I’d notice their creepy crawl, one big leg after the other, and howl for help. Their occasional bursts of rapid movement, often away from me, left me shaking with fear. Sleep would not come if a spider lived in the corner of the room or roamed the walls.

Oftentimes, I wouldn’t even do the killing, I was simply the messenger. The indirect nature of this dispatch method often left me feeling worse. I had no love for the spiders, no curiosity towards how they lived and so I did not help them, I continued to squish or displace them. I did not know that you could learn to admire a spider. I had yet to realize that fear is not an immutable force. 

Tiny spider in tall grass by Katie Crawford

Over the past few years, in this outdoor renaissance of mine, I noticed more variation of life than I ever knew existed. All of it coupled with the realization that the biodiversity crisis is here, and we are losing creatures we haven’t even had the chance to get to know. In an attempt to mitigate my years spent unaware, I’ve been rediscovering the wonder I’d lost. This rediscovery feels to me like the most urgent work in my life. 

Environments that caused me to feel defeated due to their neglect or unwelcoming asphalt have taken on a new meaning. I notice the invasive plants, I notice the lack of space or available food for native species. I notice in areas devoid of diversity that I can still witness the detailed back and reflective wings of a Calligrapher hover-fly. The sole resting place is a chicory flower pushing up through the pavement.

Margined Calligrapher Hoverfly by Katie Crawford

Last year, I spent three weeks in Alaska and encountered many bugs, primarily mosquitoes. I met people who learned to live with the large bug populations and approached the masses of mosquitos with a zen mindset. One of the guides on my trip had a saying, “The mosquitos are my friends, and I am their food”. When you are surrounded by unbothered people you learn quickly that there is little to worry about. I began to relax, to notice and admire the pollination activity of the mosquitos, and the variety of small spiders that moved along the edge of my backpack. I began to slow down and take in the complexity of their webs woven among the trees. 

Midas Fly by Katie Crawford

Big perspective shifts don’t happen alone. My friend Lia is kind to all creatures. She handles them with curiosity and care. Admiring her joyful way of living, I realized I could welcome grace and gentleness in my treatment of the smallest creatures. I began to question whether or not it was possible to relax when a bug landed on me, to allow myself to act as a brief refuge, to examine its complexity, and let it travel on its way. I have changed in a profound way and I have nature to thank for an education in patience, awareness, and gentleness. I can now sit with my fear, open my hand and allow it to fly off in new directions. 

Recently my mother in law picked blueberries from the bushes outside her house. I ran over to taste a few, and an inch worm crawled around the side of her dish. I picked it up and let it crawl on my finger and ferried it to safety. Before setting it down on a leaf, I noticed the incredible detail of its green body. A few years ago, I would have flicked it away, smushed it, or thrown the bowl. Now, I can pull a worm out of the dirt and examine it up close. I can allow a spider to crawl around on my legs while I wait to spot the herons. I know now that no creature is bothersome. 

Orchard Orbweaver with web by Katie Crawford

I’m dipping my toe into this world with a love for bugs. And I can feel the momentum, the hunger for more knowledge as I learn their secrets. I’m sure it would be surprising to my younger self to know that, these days, to comfort myself amid the uncertainty of our times, I sit in meditation. When I do, I start by visualizing that I am a spider at the center of a web. When the foundations of my life hang tattered, I take a deep look at my fear, and relax into the knowing that a thread lives within me to rebuild.