The Cricketary Tales of Jeffrey Jawser
Table of Contents
Translator with Jeffrey
The Locusts on Migration
Migration: Page Two
Migration: Page Three
Migration: Page Four
The Poet's Introduction
Intro: Page Two
Intro: Page Three
Intro: Page Four
Intro: Page Five
Intro: Page Six
Intro: Page Seven
Intro: Page Eight
Intro: Page Nine
Intro: Page Ten
Intro: Page Eleven
Intro: Page Twelve
Intro: Page Thirteen
The Bison's Tale
Bison: Page Two
Bison: Page Three
Bison: Page Four
The Serpent's Tale
Serpent: Page Two
Serpent: Page Three
Serpent: Page Four
Serpent: Page Five
The Salmon's Tale
Salmon: Page Two
Salmon: Page Three
A Whale of a Tale
Whale: Page Two
Whale: Page Three
Whale: Page Four
Whale: Page Five
Whale: Page Six
Whale: Page Seven
Whale: Page Eight
Whale: Page Nine
The Hummingbird's Tale
Hummingbird: Page Two
Hummingbird: Page Three
Hummingbird: Page Four
Hummingbird: Page Five
Hummingbird: Page Six
The Tern's Tale
Tern: Page Two
Tern: Page Three
Tern: Page Four
Contact the Author
Tern: Page Four

Yep - Hoarse predicted his verse would live forever; he prophesied his immortality.

I shall not wholly die. Some part,
Nor that a little, shall
Escape the dark destroyer's dart
And his grim festival.

Hoarse did not believe in meddling gods or punishment after death. He was an Epicurean, a follower of the Greak philosopher, the butterfly Epicurus Hypochrysops.

To an Epicurean pleasure in THIS life, in THIS world, is the greatest good. For Hoarse, to crawl in country was his joy, to climb a hill, to sip sweet wine... And yes, Hoarse the ant - though a bachelor like his friend Virgin the bee - loved those dusky female ants with their pinched waists and broad be...

Drawing: Tony Swift/David Cook

"Bees," Hoarse would say to Virgin, "seem to me shy. Why flit in sad introversion, your mind on gods and afterlife? CARPE DIEM: seize the day! Make the most of it. Take pleasure in each hour's gifts; let sad things pass unseen."

Then with his boundless common sense, his tender sympathetic heart, his rugged rational mind, Hoarse would ask female bugs to sing on the lyre and call for more smooth wine.

Hoarse asks us to know ourselves and to be ourselves.

Why should we still project and plan,
We insects of an hour?
Why fly from clime to clime, new regions scour?
Where is the exile, who, since time began,
To fly from self had power?

Hoarse was a rationalist, a republican, a bug of broad insect sympathies. And in spite of his battlefield cold feet, he did present a bold front to the face of death. "One universal night awaits us all," he would say.