Around here, comes August, come the crickets.
Last year, I had an invasion of the little buggers in the basement, and I grew to hate their miserable chirping, amplified by the unfinished cement floors and walls.
I set out sticky traps which caught a couple dozen of them, and I learned not to hesitate to stomp when I saw one, since they are fast and can jump respectable distances.
This year, I keep forgetting to buy new sticky traps, but I have two new lines of defense: a heavy sheet of plastic between the bulkhead stairs and the basement, and my friends, the spiders.
Tolerating my fellow web-spinners is a matter of professional loyalty, so I leave the Daddy Long Legs and their other arachnid pals alone, especially when they stay beyond nighttime biting range, like in the basement.
Every morning and evening, I do a cricket inspection, and have stomped a few this summer, but yesterday was the best: a gigantic cricket was caught in the web of a particularly large Daddy Long Legs that lives by the bulkhead stairs.
Reflexively, I demolished the cricket, but wondered afterwards if the poor spider had been collaterally damaged as well.
This morning, I was happy to see the Daddy Long Legs alive and well, spinning another web. Good hunting!