. . . I discovered a large insect nest stuck to the lowest branch of an oak tree in the back yard. The nest, a hollowed-out growth of the oak tree itself, was large enough for me to poke my head in it. Once inside I saw several tennis balls, waterlogged and ratty, presumably stolen by the insects and re-purposed as egg nurseries. The sound of wet wings unfolding for the first time, the sound of rubber and green felt being chewed through. A thousand hungry crickets eager to be born.