Mexican Jumping Beans

I was recently given five real Mexican Jumping Beans straight from the Mexican Jumping Bean fields in Texas.  They came with a sheet detailing their history, their care and handling, and a game board, should I want to encourage their competitive side.

I haven’t had Mexican Jumping Beans as pets since my childhood, and I was newly enchanted by their indomitable spirit, despite the fact that they are held captive in a one-by-one-inch clear plastic box.  It was a warm summer day, and they played, clicking against their plastic cage for hours at a time until I took them out of their cell and gave them recreation time on my dining room table.

It was fun to watch them hop and roll for a little while, but I got bored and left them, figuring they wouldn’t be able to go far.  This turned out to be a classic bad decision like those in all horror movies and most Curious George cartoons, for when I got back, Jerry had escaped.

Jerry is  the obvious ring leader, the burliest member of the pack, and the one who always “jumps” first.  I sensed the other beans looked up to him, and I was hurt and disappointed at the way he abused my trust.  I got down on my hands and knees and found Jerry not far from where he had fallen, tangled in the carpet despite his urgent jumping to get away.

He went back in the box with the rest of them, except for Toby, the runt of the litter, and my personal favorite.  There is something sweet and vulnerable about the way Toby rests in my hand until warmed up and then tries to entertain me by rolling from side to side.  I am touched by the effort he puts into these antics.  I can always tell that Toby is trying his best.  He is the Little Larva That Could.

The other beans had their own personalities.  Lloyd, who seemed to think he was too good to “jump,” and Ruth, who was the peacemaker and never wanted to cause trouble.

Life with Mexican Jumping Beans does have its challenges.  For one thing, they NEVER STOP!  They move around in their little plastic box continuously and the noise can get to you after a while.  You can solve this by making them cold or putting them into a softer-sided home.  I personally believe that putting them in the refrigerator is bad karma and can lead to a really cold winter.  So I lined a pretty little bowl with tissue and put them in there where they can hop around in silence.  (Once I put the plastic box in my pants pocket and then tried for an hour to find out where that noise was coming from, before I remembered.)

Because of the constant, repetitive clicking, I would not recommend Mexican Jumping Beans to anyone with a nervous condition or a Tale-Tale Heart-type guilty conscience.

I would also not recommend them to people who need an obvious show of affection.  The Beans are, to be blunt, withholding of emotion of any kind.  It takes a mighty amount of projection on the owner’s part to turn Jumping Beans  into worthwhile companions.  Even the warm affection I feel coming from Toby is entirely a figment of my imagination.

However, Mexican Jumping Beans, solitary in their little hard shells, are not hard to love if you have the imagination for it.

12/6/2011