My friend and I were taking the scenic route down south to Cedar City. We were on a small rural road when we rounded a bend to see a semicircle of upright logs in a field to our left. On each of the logs was a statue of a crow, posed in various positions. I had my friend stop the car and got out to take a picture. As I did, the crows suddenly flew away—they were not statues after all.
As I watched them go, my friend called my attention to the long grass between me and the fence. Hanging silently from the stems were hundred of big, shiny black bugs—a swarm of Mormon Crickets. I had had enough—I got back in the car and we took to the road again.
Submitted by The Desert Prophet, Liminal Ambassador