I thought he was a leaf.
The light brown Preying Mantis (P.M.) must have been parched, like everything else in this draught. But there (s)he was, (P.M. to be gender neutral) last Wednesday morning, on my front left tire. I was glad the 6” bug chose that one- I’d have never seen it, and that would have been sad.
“You have to move,” I said with gentle urgency. “I have a healing service.” P.M. looked at me with the exact same look our brown dog, Grantham, gives me when I ask her to do something she does not prefer. It’s part baleful and part martyred, but it translates to “Make Me.”
I looked around for a stick. There wasn’t one. The neighborhood HOA frowns on such untidiness, but I was still surprised. “Come on,” I coaxed. There is a nice green bush right there. You know you want to move.” I stealthily checked my watch. This was not going to be a good excuse for tardiness.
“You want me to move, you move me. You are 100 times larger than I am and I am terrified.” Contrary to these unspoken words, P.M. did not look the least bit worried. “You kill prey more than 3 times your size!” I retorted. Finally, I found an old Magnolia leaf almost the same color, crisp and strong. I coaxed P.M. to walk on it, and briefly lifted the leaf up to my level, wondering about lifespan. Do they live more than one season? (Apparently, they do not. The female typically kills the male after mating and then dies after laying the eggs according to petponder.com.)
It sounds weird, but I have had it happen with other species, that moment when creature recognizes creature and time stops. We both belong to God after all. Respecting each other is the least we can do. It’s worth our remembering that our choices have consequences for others.
After we exchanged a significant look, I placed the leaf and its passenger under the hedge. “Stay there,” I advised. You should enjoy this day. Eat all the mosquitos you like. We will be delighted.”
. . .At least I know what happened to the spider attached to our front porch.
The light brown Preying Mantis (P.M.) must have been parched, like everything else in this draught. But there (s)he was, (P.M. to be gender neutral) last Wednesday morning, on my front left tire. I was glad the 6” bug chose that one- I’d have never seen it, and that would have been sad.
“You have to move,” I said with gentle urgency. “I have a healing service.” P.M. looked at me with the exact same look our brown dog, Grantham, gives me when I ask her to do something she does not prefer. It’s part baleful and part martyred, but it translates to “Make Me.”
I looked around for a stick. There wasn’t one. The neighborhood HOA frowns on such untidiness, but I was still surprised. “Come on,” I coaxed. There is a nice green bush right there. You know you want to move.” I stealthily checked my watch. This was not going to be a good excuse for tardiness.
“You want me to move, you move me. You are 100 times larger than I am and I am terrified.” Contrary to these unspoken words, P.M. did not look the least bit worried. “You kill prey more than 3 times your size!” I retorted. Finally, I found an old Magnolia leaf almost the same color, crisp and strong. I coaxed P.M. to walk on it, and briefly lifted the leaf up to my level, wondering about lifespan. Do they live more than one season? (Apparently, they do not. The female typically kills the male after mating and then dies after laying the eggs according to petponder.com.)
It sounds weird, but I have had it happen with other species, that moment when creature recognizes creature and time stops. We both belong to God after all. Respecting each other is the least we can do. It’s worth our remembering that our choices have consequences for others.
After we exchanged a significant look, I placed the leaf and its passenger under the hedge. “Stay there,” I advised. You should enjoy this day. Eat all the mosquitos you like. We will be delighted.”
. . .At least I know what happened to the spider attached to our front porch.
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