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CC: ‘I didn’t much like being imprisoned in that white tub, you know.’
Me: ‘ Sorry! We just wanted to look at you more closely.’

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CC: ‘Well, I don’t blame you. I am rather cute, aren’t I?’
Me: ‘You certainly are but that’s not why we wanted to look at you.’

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CC: ‘Oh. What were you looking at me for then?’
Me: ‘We wanted to check what you were.’

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CC: ‘And what am I?’
Me: ‘You’re a type of bush cricket called a Long-winged conehead.’

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CC: ‘How can you tell that?’
Me: ‘Well, you have a green body and long, brown wings, a brown stripe down your back and a pointed head.’

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CC: ‘I’m not sure I like the name conehead. Couldn’t you find me a better name than that?’
Me: ‘Well, your scientific name is Conocephalus discolor. Is that better?’

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CC: ‘Oh, yes. That makes me sound very special. What else do you know about me?’
Me: ‘You mostly eat grass, though you don’t mind the odd small insect to snack on. You’re mostly found in the south of Britain, though some of your more adventurous friends are moving northwards. And you like living in a variety of places, from farm and grassland and wooded areas to coastal reedbeds and even boggy marshes.’

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CC: ‘I can see I have no secrets from you.’
Me: ‘I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about you though, like you, I am curious about the world around me. Now I think it’s time you flew off and found a tasty bit of grass for your lunch.’

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