Wikidata: Q47328 Wikispecies: Gryllidae ADW: Gryllidae BugGuide: 157 EoL: 996 EPPO: 1GRYLF Fauna Europaea: 11894 Fauna Europaea (new): e41b54e5-d3fd-440f-8284-b0868db9eeb3 Fossilworks: 56642 GBIF: 5925 iNaturalist: 52884 IRMNG: 101559 ITIS: 102281 NBN: NBNSYS0000160090 NCBI: 6995 NZOR: c2302870-ffdc-4c08-a101-420d9b8cf47f Orthoptera Species File: 1616 uBio: 5477586
Captive crickets are omnivorous; when deprived of their natural diet, they accept a wide range of organic foodstuffs. Some species are completely herbivorous, feeding on flowers, fruit, and leaves, with ground-based species consuming seedlings, grasses, pieces of leaf, and the shoots of young plants. Others are more predatory and include in their diet invertebrate eggs, larvae, pupae, moulting insects, scale insects, and aphids.[14] Many are scavengers and consume various organic remains, decaying plants, seedlings, and fungi.[15] In captivity, many species have been successfully reared on a diet of ground, commercial dry dog food, supplemented with lettuce and aphids.[14]

Previous versions of the Spirit identified actions that were deemed contrary (for example, appealing knowing that the batsman is not out) but all specifics are now covered in the Laws of Cricket, the relevant governing playing regulations and disciplinary codes, or left to the judgement of the umpires, captains, their clubs and governing bodies. The terse expression of the Spirit of Cricket now avoids the diversity of cultural conventions that exist in the detail of sportsmanship – or its absence.
Crickets have from time to time appeared in poetry. William Wordsworth's 1805 poem The Cottager to Her Infant includes the couplet "The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, The crickets long have ceased their mirth".[46] John Keats's 1819 poem Ode to Autumn includes the lines "Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft / The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft".[47] The Chinese Tang dynasty poet Du Fu (712–770) wrote a poem that in the translation by J. P. Seaton begins "House cricket ... Trifling thing. And yet how his mournful song moves us. Out in the grass his cry was a tremble, But now, he trills beneath our bed, to share his sorrow."[48]
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