So, I had this weird little project, kind of by accident, that I ended up calling “Weevil Knievel.” Sounds a bit daft, I know, but stick with me, and you’ll get why. It all started in my kitchen, as many great adventures do, or in this case, tiny ones.
I found these little critters in a bag of flour I’d forgotten about. Yep, weevils. My first instinct, like any normal person, was to just chuck the whole lot in the bin, and fast. But then, I don’t know, a weird sense of curiosity just hit me. I mean, these tiny things, they’re survivors, aren’t they? Always finding a way.
So, instead of immediate eviction, I decided to set up a little observation post. Nothing fancy, mind you. I just grabbed a clear plastic container, you know, the kind you get takeaway food in. Cleaned it out real good, of course. Then I scooped a few of these weevils in, along with a tiny, tiny piece of a cracker for sustenance. Didn’t want them starving while I was playing scientist.
For a while, nothing much happened. They just sort of wandered around, bumping into each other, doing whatever it is weevils do when they think no one’s watching. I almost gave up, thinking, “Well, that was a waste of five minutes.”
But then I spotted this one particular chap. He was a bit different. Seemed more active, more… ambitious? I’d chucked in a couple of small obstacles, just to see. A tiny pebble from a plant pot, and a little dry twig, about an inch long. Most of the weevils just went around them. Standard.
Not this guy, though. This fella, he made a beeline for that twig. He climbed up it, which, for his size, must have been like scaling a cliff. He got to the very top, paused for a second, and then – I’m not kidding – he sort of launched himself! It was a tiny leap, maybe half a centimeter, onto the pebble. For a weevil, that’s like a motorbike jump over ten buses, I reckon. He just went for it, no fear.
That’s when the name popped into my head: Weevil Knievel. The daredevil of the flour bag. He even did a little wiggle after he landed, like he was taking a bow. Or maybe that was just him being a weevil, who knows.
I watched him for a bit longer. He didn’t try any more crazy stunts, just explored his pebble like he’d conquered Everest. It was strangely entertaining, this tiny drama unfolding in a plastic box. Made me think, you know? Even the smallest things have their own little world, their own challenges.
Anyway, my scientific curiosity eventually ran its course. After his big performance, Weevil Knievel and his less adventurous mates were respectfully, but firmly, escorted to the great outdoors. My pantry’s a no-stunt zone, unfortunately for him. But yeah, that was my little “Weevil Knievel” saga. Just a random afternoon, a few weevils, and one surprisingly gutsy insect.