Night at the farmhouse

At night, when humans are asleep and all I can hear is the whisper of the wind and the rustling of leaves in the forest, I venture out of my hiding place at the edge of the forest and head for the humans’ small farm. My steps are silent, my heart is pounding with tension and my antennae are trembling because I am so excited. It’s not uncommon for my eyes to squint in all directions, a quirk that makes me look clumsy in the dark. I stumble over pebbles and get lost in the tall grass, but curiosity drives me forward, deeper into the human world.

My name is Hugo and I am a forest cockroach. During my adventures, my family is waiting for me at home, hidden under the moss and leaves that cover our little shelter at the forest’s edge. “Be careful,” they whisper to me each time, and I nod, full of promises to return safely.

I sneak cautiously past the stable and barn and carefully approach the house where the humans live. The transition from the cool evening to the warm inside world is exciting every time. I find the small gap next to the front door — my secret entrance. As soon as I’m inside, the warmth envelops me like a hug. Everything is so different here: the smells, the sounds, and even the air seem to tell a different story. Carefully, so as not to be discovered, I move along the skirting boards. Every time I am here, I am overwhelmed by the size of this human building and what it means to me as a little cockroach: a boundless hunting ground.

This odd world is shaped according to their rules of hygiene and neatness. For humans, this means sparkling surfaces and keeping order. But I and my fellow arthropods, the beings that live in the cracks and corners, have a different perspective. We look for the remnants of their day, the crumbs under the table, the drops of sweet juice on the floor — all treasures and means of survival in our world. Every time I scurry across the clean, cold floor of the kitchen, I risk everything. One false step, one twitch of the light, and I could be discovered.

In the kitchen, under the old-fashioned fridge, I meet Otto the earwig, an old friend and fellow adventurer. Our paths have often crossed, mostly on our nightly forays. Otto, with his unshakeable sense of humor and a deep fondness for dark corners, shares his latest discoveries with me. He has discovered a hidden entrance to the pantry, a true Eldorado, he tells me. I decide to try out this secret next time. Our conversation is brief, as the danger of being discovered is never far away.

People often forget that they share their homes with us. They see us as intruders, as disruptors of their meticulously created order. But we are part of a larger ecosystem that also exists within their four walls. My nocturnal expeditions are not just adventures, they are also a mission. I search for food for my family, for materials to improve our home, for stories to tell them when I return.

Today I found the crumbs of an apple pie and some small pieces of honey bread. Successes like this give me the strength to carry on, despite all the risks. I only return at dawn, my heart full of stories, my pockets full of stolen treats. I am Hugo, the forest cockroach, an explorer, and a family member. Despite the dangers that come with any adventure, I know I’ll be off again the next night. The human world is too fascinating, too rich in undiscovered wonders, and my curiosity is simply too great.