As I looked up from my paperwork for the umpteenth time this morning to see if there was any traffic coming down my empty highway, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye.

Well, actually, it was out of the bottom of my eye, since the motion was directly below my door. Something small trotting out from under the truck, headed across the gravel parking area.

This guy.

A jerusalem cricket.

Heelers thought something terribly exciting was happening, as I spun around to grab the camera from next to the masked one. And then I squatted and crawled alongside this bug, trying to get some decent shots.

The first one since I got the digital camera.

Seen 'em before, of course. Rumbling across the open sage country in that tv-dinosaur gait they have. But this one was truckin' along pretty good for such a small fella, and on such a cool day. Sort of like a six-legged humvee.

Years ago, I got a call from a desperate game warden's wife, asking, no begging me to come over and remove the huge spider from her washing machine. There, on top of the wet but spun clothing, lay the carcass of a drowned jerusalem cricket.

She screamed when it moved.

And left the basement.

But she also asked if they bite or sting, and I had to admit I didn't know.

Still don't.

But when the edge of my boot nudged this guy's antennae, it did an immediate flip over onto its back with mouth up, then flipped over and locked down to the ground with the abdomen pointed up.

If they can't bite or sting, they do a great impersonation of it.

But this one kept heading towards the highway, so I kept trying to nudge it back east. And everytime it dove into the shaded shelter of my boot, clinging to the sole so I couldn't stand. Had to hop around on one leg in the pullout, trying to shake the bug off the bottom of my boot.

Good thing it was a slow day.

So next time, I kept the boot firmly in the gravel as I nudged east.

And it climbed up. Onto the boot.

Okayyy, no biggy. Except it kept climbing. I had this horrible image of it getting up inside my pant leg, and barely had time to pull the cuff tight to block access under the jeans.

'Course, that left me with another little problem.

Other than the camera, only thing I had available to deter its rapid climb was my pen. Which it would not grab, preferring the secure grasp on cotton over chrome. But if I worked it right, I could at least get the pen between the critter's legs, and keep it from climbing higher.

And that's how the two of us crossed the parking area. The cricket hanging on for dear life, and me dragging my right leg like Chester in Gunsmoke, while apparently stabbing myself with my pen.

Good thing it was a slow day.

Of course, when we reached the sage and saltbush by the fence, the bug still had no intention of letting go. Until I found a small piece of wood, which it apparently found more natural than woven cotton fibers.

When I turned to walk back to the quizzical heelers, the cricket was still clinging to his piece of wood.

Maybe eat it, for all I know.