Bug Time

 

I think I got his best side...

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

We usually take a passing note of things nature, usually because there are things that require our more urgent attention.  But sometimes, nature pulls up a chair, sits down, and forces us to pay attention.

I was at work earlier this week assigned to the entry line, which is actually down on the pier.  There, people show up with their tickets for the Battleship and their tours.  My job is to give them a safety brief, which goes something like this:

"Welcome aboard the Battleship Missouri!  Just a few words to the wise... She's still configured as a warship, so please watch out for tripping hazards, things sticking out from the sides around your arms and head.  The ladders are steep and narrow, so please use both hands on the rails going up or down.  There is no eating, smoking, or vaping. You can drink as long as it is a covered container, like a water bottle.  Please obey the posted signage.  It is there for your safety.  And please hold on to your belongings.  If it goes over the side into the harbor, then it belongs to King Neptune now and forever."

We do this to remind folks that the ship hasn't been modified for visitors and there are hazards around.  That last bit about King Neptune I throw in to get a few smiles.  It's one of the pleasant posts we stand because this is where people first arrive, and we get a chance to give a good impression to start.  When it's busy, that little speech is given a lot as people move through the tent.  When its not, there's time to strike up some conversations.

Then there are days, and times during those days when I might not see anyone for 30 or 45 minutes.  There is time for contemplation.

On this particular day, one of the young ladies from ticketing, gave out a short shriek.  When I looked, she was pointing at a trash/recycle receptacle (made from 1,179 recycled milk cartons).  I followed her point and found that we had a visitor.  Sitting on the side of the container was a preying mantis.  I hadn't seen one in quite a long time, and as I came closer, it showed to tendency to flee.  With nothing else to to at that moment, I decided to take a closer look.  

Like most young boys, I always collected bugs.  Grasshoppers, crickets, worms, and other denizens of the grass and soil found their way into a jar for a time until I tired of it and released it back into the wild.  Here in Hawai'i, there are bugs aplenty, but now I mostly take that grumpy old man "get off my lawn" attitude.  We have to work hard to keep our house from being overrun, so my passion for insects has dimmed.  

But as I watched, I felt that prodigal 9-year-old return, the one who would stare at a bug for long periods of time, fascinated by what I was seeing.  In this case, because the mantis was more or less at eye level, I could comfortably observe without sacrificing my dignity.  At least not too much, anyway.

I'm sure my close examination disturbed the mantis.  It's articulated neck aligned the triangular head at various angles in my direction.  At one point, it was gently rocking back and forth.  After a recent visit to Wikipedia, I learned that it was either mimicking a blade of grass in the wind, or altering his viewing angle to get a better look at me.  Some visitors showed up and I went away to do my thing for a few minutes.  While I was away, a fly zoomed past the mantis, who suddenly lurched towards what looked like a tasty snack, but the fly was too nimble.  After awhile, I returned, this time moving in closer.  On a whim, I reached out and gently stroked the mantis' back (at least it looked like his back).  Instead of flying away, it continued to sit there, claws folded.  The only response was to dip down a bit.  I guess he didn't like the touch.  

It was strange.  I mean, there I was a full-grown adult hovering over a bug in a public place.  But I couldn't stop looking.  I noticed that it's triangular head resembled the aliens from the Independence Day movie franchise.  The eyes were amazing.  In my reading, I later found out that the mantis has actually has stereoscopic vision, and two different parts of the eye, one for detecting movement, and the other for close-up detailed examination of prey. Bifocals.   The two...claws? were folded and appeared to have spikes for capturing prey.  Looking closer, I could see that the mouth was a kind of mandible at the end of a snout.  Occasionally as I watched, the mandibles would move like it was chewing something.  But it never made a move to flee.  It moved a few inches around the edge of the receptacle, perhaps in trying to put some distance between him and this overly curious human.  

I had the time to marvel at how wonderfully engineered this bug was.  It's entire structure was thin, yet looked very strong.  It had wings and long, articulated legs, and it had the ability to rest comfortably on vertical surfaces.  Yep.  Way cool.

Eventually, my duties beckoned and I was relieved by a colleague.  I pointed out the mantis to her who responded as only a female can:  "Ugh." 

I went back by at the end of the day, but the mantis had moved on.  Still, it was an interesting moment to examine closely something amazing from nature.

And to rediscover that eternally curious child that still exists within.