Ingalls Wilder And The Grasshopper Poem Analysis

Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Grasshopper Apocalypse

“The grasshoppers are coming! The grasshoppers are coming (Wilder, 79)!”, my neighbor screamed, not knowing these words would be seared into my mind forever. Late at night, my dreams were plagued with hoards of milky white wings. Everywhere I turned, I could feel them crawling all over my body. Even so much as the sight of one of those horrendous creatures would have me running for the hills. I feared nothing more than the return of the grasshoppers. Later, when I would look back upon my years, I would conclude that nothing else in my entire life had been as thrilling and terrifying as that natural phenomenon. My family had been living in Minnesota for a while now, and our future was looking

15 They covered all the ground until it was black. They devoured all that was left after the hail—everything growing in the fields and the fruit on the trees. Nothing green remained on tree or plant in all the land of Egypt(Exodus 10, New International Version).” Definitely sounded like what was happening now. Staring up at the sky in awe, it occured to me that this was probably God coming to punish me for stealing Mary’s biscuit the other day. The millions of grasshoppers descended and immediately began to eat anything and everything green - the garden, the grass, the leaves on the trees, and especially, poor Pa’s wheat field (Wilder 79). It was like my family's worst nightmare coming true. Just when we thought that everything was going to be alright, Mother Nature came back and smashed it right into our faces. Everywhere we stepped we mashed grasshoppers and they crawled up under their skirts and down the backs of our necks (Wilder 79). Pa tried, and failed, to keep the grasshoppers at bay. He hauled straw and manure in piles around and through the field, then set it on fire hoping that the smoke would keep the destructive creatures away. The

There were no crops to be harvested nor anything to live on until crops could grow again, and therefore we were left without any money to buy food (Wilder 81). There was not a green thing in sight except a few grasshoppers with broken wings who could not fly (Wilder 79). The first time I stepped outside after the grasshoppers were gone, I notice that the ground looked like honeycomb, for it was so full of the little round holes in which the grasshoppers had laid their eggs (Wilder 81). Something about the sight of the clustered holes rattled me so greatly that I refused to set a foot outside until the rain came and buried them up. I suppose you could call it trypophobia, or a fear of holes. But I was not afraid of the sight, rather it was just very disturbing and unsightly to look at. Now that the ground was full of holes and not money-making wheat, we had to find another way to keep living, else we wouldn’t survive the winter. So one day, Pa told us all goodbye, put on his hat, and carrying his coat over his shoulder, started walking east to where there was harvesting to be done(Wilder 81). He walked because there was no money for a train fair, although, the day before, we had run around the house, upturning pots, blankets, and anything that could a hold hidden penny, but, alas, we were not able to salvage enough to