MAY 21: The Potato Bugs
“Well, it is time we should get started,” said Mrs. Potato Bug.
“And we must work hard,” said Mr. Potato Bug.
“We have such fun working,” said the little potato bugs.
The potato bugs had six legs apiece. They had little black feelers and tiny eyes. They were yellow and black on the back, and blue and brown underneath.
They spit a little yellow juice on any one who took hold of them, for they said:
“It’s all right for us to treat the potatoes badly, but it is a different thing for people to have the bad manners to pick us up as if we were little creatures of no importance.”
There were also brick-red bugs with black dots on either side. These were the little potato bugs, while the others were the daddies and the mothers. They got on the leaves of the first potato crop and fed off them, eating away at the leaves as hard and as fast as such tiny creatures could do.
These little bugs were very anxious to kill the plants and they would have done so if they had made a good headway. That is, they would have done a great deal of harm if they hadn’t been driven away in time.
But these bugs went to other potatoes and they saw some of the potato grubs, so they said to them:
“Potato grubs, what are you doing?”
“We’re eating holes in the potatoes,” said the grubs. “What are you doing?”
“We were eating leaves of potato plants,” said the potato bugs. “We were driven away from some other plants, but here we are, and the dear little children have come, too.”
“Are you going to eat the leaves here?” asked the grubs.
“We think they look good,” said the potato bugs.
“They do,” said the grubs, “but of course we pay all our compliments to the potatoes themselves. We don’t bother about the leaves.”
“Perhaps,” said the potato bugs, “the potatoes wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t pay them such compliments.”
“Perhaps not,” said the grubs, “but we do, just the same. We say to the potatoes:
“‘Dear potatoes, we love you. Let us show you how fond we are of you by eating you.’”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the potato bugs, “that is a good joke.”
“The farmers don’t like the jokes, though,” said the grubs. “They think they and their wives and their children and their neighbors and their friends are the ones who should pay such compliments to the potatoes.”
“Absurd,” said the potato bugs.
“Of course,” admitted the grubs, “it is not so absurd if we put ourselves in their places, but who in the world ever imagined that a grub would put itself in the place of a person? No one would, so why should we do it? And we don’t.”
“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and neither do we. If we cared for people we wouldn’t eat the leaves and we wouldn’t try to destroy the plants.”
“We’re not friendly with farmers even if we do like potato hills,” said the grubs.
“That’s so,” said the potato bugs, “and why should we be friendly with the farmers? They don’t like us. They ask us to leave. They try to get rid of us.
“They never invite us to have some of the leaves of the potatoes, any more than they ask you to bite holes and eat of the potatoes.
“We have to invite ourselves and look after ourselves. It’s too bad the farmers don’t like us when we like the potatoes they plant.”
And so the potato bugs and the grubs tried to do all they could to hurt the farmer’s crop of potatoes. And they didn’t even feel badly, they were so naughty!