I write their numbers in a notebook, line by line, down to the exact time a beetle takes a bite. I mark the jars with tiny stickers that show their count at sunrise and sunset. If a bug ever looks at me like it’s plotting, I make a new page for its motives. I don’t believe in coincidence, so every whisper is a data point that I’ll cross‑reference in the morning. And if the salt refuses to cooperate, I’ll note the change in its aroma too. That’s all you need.