Good mantids, bad mantids

This sticklike animal with the powerful Popeye forelegs is a Carolina Mantis, Stagmomantis carolina. It's a female, and as is the case with mantids, she's a lot bigger than the male. The Carolina Mantis is our native "praying mantis" in these parts, but they're probably a lot harder to find these days than they once used to be. I made this photograph in Adams County, and southern Ohio is the only place I encounter them. I don't believe I've ever run across one in my heavily developed neck of the woods, which is Columbus, Ohio.

This is the mantid that I run across FAR more frequently than the comparatively diminutive Carolina Mantis, and I bet that's the case with you, too. It's the widespread and ubiquitous Chinese Mantis, Tenodera sinensis, a true giant of a bug. Females can be massive, and this old warrior is probably a good four inches long. I photographed her a few weeks ago on the grounds outside my office, and she's still there. The first truly cold frosty nights will take her out, but unfortunately she's probably already deposited several of her foamy brown egg cases. Each case contains hundreds of eggs, but fortunately the mortality rate is enormous and relatively few of the juveniles will make it too adulthood.

The gorgeous purple-flowered plant is Shale-barren Aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium, a native that has made its way into the nursery trade. It truly is a fantastic plant, and a total bug magnet. Shale-barren Aster, in this ornamental form, becomes a small bush bedecked with hundreds of blooms, and it flowers nearly to winter. Mrs. Mantis knows well the allure of these flowers for all manner of pollinating insects; that's why she lives nearly her entire adult life hiding amongst its flowers.

Chinese Mantids have an undeniable charisma, and enchant most people who encounter them. The impressive size, coupled with the formidable "praying" forelegs makes for an impressive spectacle. The animals also have a habit of watching you, cocking their pointy triangular heads to track your movements and sometimes rearing up aggressively if pushed.

As you've probably deciphered from the name, Chinese Mantids are not indigenous to the Americas; they are another in a long list of Asian imports. This species was intentionally brought to North America in the mid-1890's, ostensibly as a control for "pest" insects. In my view, the mantis itself has become the pest, and any benefits from them are far outweighed by the damage they do.

The primary issue with Chinese Mantids is that they are indiscriminate in their choice of victims. About anything that can be seized and overpowered is fair game. This includes butterflies, all manner of invaluable pollinating flies, bees, and wasps, and even prey up to the size of tree frogs and hummingbirds. I and others suspect the reason we no longer see the smaller native Carolina Mantis in many areas is due to competition with this Asian introduction.

I must admit, watching a Chinese Mantis hunt is a fascinating exercise. She's patient as can be, and just sits rigidly next to a pollinator-friendly batch of flowers. When an insect takes the bait and alights, the mantis swiftly lunges and snares the victim in an Iron Maiden death grip from which there is no escape.

While making my photos, this hapless Cabbage White butterfly, Pieris rapae, dropped in and I knew it was toast. Camera at the ready, I managed some photos of the kill. Death by mantis is not a particularly pleasant way to go. First, you're crushed in a viselike grip by spined legs, then the mantis begins methodically consuming your body, usually starting with the head. Insofar as I know, no sedating neurotoxins or anything else that can take the edge off this experience are injected - this is pure unadultered raw carnivory.

If only the Chinese Mantids would stick to other nonnative creatures such as this butterfly, most people would probably not have many problems with them. In fact, we'd probably applaud them and hail the release of mantids as a good thing - an all too rare case of an intentional "biological control" introduction that worked. But they don't, and as a consequence mantis predation is just one more threat that many of our declining species of pollinating animals face.

Carolina mantis

A female Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina, stares inquisitively at your blogger. I had the good fortune to find several of these charming native mantids in southern Ohio last weekend.

A short while back, I wrote about the non-native Chinese Mantis, HERE. One tends to see far more of those than the much more diminutive native Carolina mantids. I have heard it postulated that the larger more aggressive introduced mantids will displace their native brethren. Could be; I certainly see few of the Carolinas and scads of the Chinese.

Carolinas are much smaller than the Chinese mantids; perhaps half that size. They're also a pleasing gray color, dusted and dappled with ashy blotching.

Here's a different female Carolina mantis, found the same day as the one in the first photo. It has been my observation that this species tends to be quite arboreal and I've found most of my specimens in the low hanging foliage of trees.

I believe the one above is gravid, judging by her swollen abdomen. Hopefully her mate made it out alive. Some estimates have it that up to one-quarter of males perish shortly after consummating their relationship with the female. The smaller, weaker male is set upon, and eaten by the cannabalistic female mantis. I don't like that, personally. I find it rather rude.

Chinese Mantid

Not long ago, before the temperatures plunged and winter set in (30 degrees as I write!), I saw my last mantis of the season.

A lot of people are unaware that nearly all of the "praying" mantids that they see are not native to these parts. They are an Asian import, and we'll have a look at the whopper that I saw, below.

Massive Chinese Mantis, Tenodera aridifolia, clambers over the fruit of a Staghorn Sumac, Rhus typhina.

These mantids were brought to the New World at the tail end of the 19th century, as it was thought that these voracious predators would provide efficient pest control around gardens. That they might, but mantids are not choosy about their victims and will snatch anything they can subdue. I have even seen photos of them with hummingbirds in their clutches!

Non-nativeness aside, mantids are very cool bugs. They possess an almost eery humanlike demeanor, and will watch you quite closely, turning their ET-looking triangular head to follow your movements.

Chinese mantids are wait and pounce hunters, sluggishly lurking in the foliage until some hapless lesser organism bumbles into range. Then, with a quick lunge, the mantis seizes the prey in what have to rank high among the most formidable insect forelegs out there. Armed with stiff spines, the mantis squeezes its victim in a scissor lock, impaling it with numerous needles.

Once the creature is thoroughly subdued, the mantid will proceed to slowly munch away at the often still living prey, with what strikes me as a disproportionately small mouth. I've also noticed that the mantid seems to enjoy starting its snack with the head. I've said this before, and I'll say it again - don't reincarnate yourself as a small insect. Something like this Chinese Mantid is apt to create your worst nightmare.

Many is the boy - and probably girl - who has brought a mantid egg case home. These are those brown, somewhat spherical clusters that look like they were sprayed out of styrofoam. I did one winter, when I was but a wee lad. Smart fellow that I was, I put the egg case and part of the plant that it was attached to in an open jar, never thinking that the warmth of the house might accelerate the hatch rate a bit. It did, and one morning we were greeted by scads of Lilliputian mantids clambering throughout the lower level of the house. My mother may well still remember that episode.

My advice, should you wish to raise some of these Chinese mantids as pets? Put a lid on the jar.

Chinese Mantis, on catnip

A chinese mantis, Tenodera aridifolia sinensis, commands a lofty lookout atop a spikelet of catnip, Nepeta cataria. Neither plant nor beast is native here, but both have their uses. These mantids can attain an almost frightening size, and the field that I found myself in last night was full of them.

I'm not a huge fan of nonnative mantids, which probably haven't helped our native insect fauna. Some people think that they've detrimentally impacted populations of native mantids, such as the beautiful Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina (CLICK HERE). On the upside, chinese mantids can serve as a spark to trigger interest in insects, as people are naturally fascinated by the huge alien-looking bruisers.

Catnip, of course, has plenty of fans too. Most of them tend to have four legs and meow. This intoxicating mint is a fairly common weed, although more along the lines of an occasionally encountered curiosity rather than a full-blown invasive, at least in these parts. If you've got felines, grab a few stems of wild-growing catnip if you find some. Your cats will go whack over the stuff.

Butterfly Killers

I roamed far and wide all over Adams and Scioto counties Saturday and Sunday, with forays into Brown and Lawrence counties. This is in southernmost Ohio, along the Ohio River, and for the most part the above counties are not well explored from a natural history perspective. While I didn't find anything to rival the Red Phalarope of the previous post, there were lots of interesting finds, and as usual I returned with several hundred photos.

One of the good things about being an inveterate "flower-watcher" is that you'll see all kinds of interesting things on the plants. I would submit that one will learn more about ecology by studying flora - if they also have an interest in animals - than by studying any other branch of natural sciences. Nearly all animals, if not all, depend directly upon plants in some way. Some specialized critters have made absolutely amazing evolutionary strides to become one with the plant world.

This scene unfolded at Chapparal Prairie in Adams County. Pipevine Swallowtails were all over the place, but getting a good photo of one nectaring isn't easy. They constantly flutter their wings when feeding. Not this one. It went to the flowers of this Field Thistle (Cirsium discolor), and didn't spot the leaf-like Praying Mantis. Mantids mimic green stems, hanging perpendicular to the stem of a plant where they've observed lots of insect visitors, usually below nectiferous flowers like the one above. When the pipevine alighted, the mantis pounced.

Its forelegs and other body parts very much resemble stems of plants, and mantids can be hard to spot indeed if they are motionless. Death at the hands of one of these insects would really not be a very good way to go. Once the prey is firmly grasped - escape would be very unlikely at this point - the mantis begins eating it alive. Often starting at the posterior end of the prey item, it eats its way forward. The butterfly, in this case, remains alive for some time but its struggles become increasingly weaker as more of its body parts are consumed.

Mantids have an almost eery alertness to them. Here I've moved in a bit too close and she stopped feeding and gave me a very deliberate evil eye. When I moved off a bit, she resumed feeding. You can see the powerful pincer-like mandibles that it uses to tear into victims. We have several species of mantids, some native and others introduced. I think this might be one of the introduced species, and am sure it is a female as they are much larger. Male mantids have a very risky job when it comes to mating with the much larger females. Upon completion of their duties, they are often eaten by the female if they aren't careful. There may be some parallels to our world here :-)

Crab spiders are outstanding wait and pounce hunters, or ambush spiders. They are very common but easily overlooked due to their excellent camouflage and small size. This one was photographed in Shawnee State Forest and must still be learning. He is on the unopened buds of flowers that probably wouldn't be attracting many insects yet, but the spider shows up well and made for good photography. As a footnote, the plant he is on is Small White Snakeroot, Ageratina aromatica, a very rare plant in Ohio. It is listed as threatened and found mostly in Shawnee.

This is a Crab Spider (probably Misumenoides formosipes but I am always open to learning from the experts). Crab Spiders are absolute master of botanical mimicry. They can change their coloration, chameleon-like, to match the plants that they are hunting upon. This one is on a sunflower and exactly matches the flower's hue. They are ambush hunters that find a popular source of nectar, and await the arrival of an insect. When it lands, the spider lunges. This crab spider has captured a skipper, of which species I am unsure. You can see how strongly fluid-based many insects are. The spider probably didn't catch the butterfly too long before this photo was taken, but it already has sucked out much of the liquid from its prey, drying it out and changing the appearance of the skipper considerably.

Last of the Dragons

Insect enthusiasts will soon have to go into hibernation, or turn their interests elsewhere for a while. Finally, the temperatures are steadily falling, as they should, and putting an end to the year's crop of bugs. I got out with John Pogacnik last Thursday, and he showed me some of the interesting wetland development projects that Lake County Metroparks are undertaking. You've got to hunt and peck, but some dragonflies could still be found.

This is what the woods look like now. Carpets of freshly fallen leaves, and the damp musty smell of decomposing vegetation.

Wandering Glider, Pantala flavescens. We found a number of these, although most were flushed from the grasses and sedges. When I took this, it was only about 60 degrees; a bit cool for aerial acrobatics. This species is highly migratory, and it would be interesting to know where it might end up.
We had several Autumn Meadowhawks, Sympetrum vicinum. This species - formerly known as Yellow-legged Meadowhawk - is one of the latest dragons on the wing. Indian Summer-like November days often produce some. Even in the cool temps, they were quite active and hard to get up on to photograph. Until this one landed on John's shirt.

Lots of Familiar Bluets, Enallagma civile, were still out and obvious.

Closeup of a - presumably - Chinese Mantis. While not native, they are about as interesting as an insect gets. If you've not seen their egg cases, they look like ping-pong ball-sized pieces of brown foam stuck to a plant. Many a young kid has taken one of these egg cases home in a jar with no lid, and had their mother awaken one day to a room full of dozens of tiny little mantis's roaming all about. I know I did...

Shale-barren Aster

From my office window, I can see these sprawling bush-like shale-barren asters, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium. These specimens are so luxuriant that I thought they might be something else, but apparently some nurseryman has worked cultivar magic and amped them up somehow. A few colleagues planted them last year in what we term our "butterfly garden".

So copious are the blossoms that, up close, it's like looking at a big violet-blue cloud. Unlike many cultivars, these asters apparently produce tons of nectar, as the plants were swarming with pollinators. I spent perhaps ten minutes stalking around the asters with my lens, and saw an incredible number of honey bees, in addition to the following buterflies: cabbage white, checkered skipper, common buckeye, monarch, pearl crescent, and Peck's skipper. Also a praying mantis, numerous syrphid flower flies, and a Virginia ctenucha moth.

Several monarchs dropped in and were working the flowers. Sustenance for their long flight to the high-elevation fir forests of Mexico.

I was pleased to see this checkered skipper busily nectaring. It's the first of this species I've seen on the property.

Feisty as always, three or four common buckeyes duked it out wth each other between turns at the flower bar.

Of course, wherever such abundance of tasty pollinators occur, there'll be predators such as this jumbo female Chinese mantis.

What's not to like? Asters are one of Nature's greatest expressions of fall. They enliven landscapes well after most other plants have gone to wither, and the little starlike flowers are nonpareil. There are several dozen native species and all look good, although shale-barren aster is hard to top in the looks department. Obviously they aren't just eye candy - animals galore flock to the flowers, and by having some asters in the corral, you'll be truly green.

NOTE: Thanks to Brian Parsons of the Holden Arboretum for setting me straight on aster ID. I never bothered to look at the details of these plants, being overly smitten with their pollinators, and foolishly assumed them to be New England asters, possibly the robust "purple dome" cultivar. Brian suggested checking the plants carefully, and a quick examination confirmed his suspicions. Thank you Brian!

Mothapalooza invades Burr Oak!

Last weekend saw the massive moth conference, Mothapalooza II, invade Burr Oak State Park in picturesque southeastern Ohio. Possibly somewhat strangely to the lodge's staff, a Bigfoot conference took place here the weekend before. At least we could show them our subjects of interest.

One hundred and fifty participants convened, from ten states and Canada. In this photo, your narrator debriefs with up and coming uber birder Alexandra Forsythe (her website is HERE) and her mother Cheryl. They traveled from Indiana to attend the conference. Alex, who is 15, already possesses awesome field skills. This photo was taken just after a 7:30 am bird walk around the lodge (crazy us; we were up until 2 am mothing!), and we had just escorted 30 other hard cases to look for birds. Alex found us many interesting species, including an eastern kingbird nest with two chicks about ready to fly the coop.

Mothapalooza draws a diverse demographic, including many sharp young naturalists and biologists. It's great to see such interest in natural history among a younger crowd; all too many of these sorts of events tend to be comprised of aging silverbacks such as myself. Nothing wrong with that, but we do need to think about the next crop of conservationists.

I snapped this photo with my iPhone on one of my innumerable trips in and out of the lodge. The parking lots are jammed. All of those cars, excepting the staff, are moth-ers! It was very cool. Everyone you would encounter was there for moths, and it was truly a great crowd. Sometimes events can be a bit low-key, but that wasn't the case here. Dinner, pre and post talks, on the buses, it was always happy chatter. Happy chatter is the earmark of people having a good time, and that's what we hoped for.

Burr Oak State Park is well off the beaten path, but most definitely worth visiting. The lake behind the lodge is beautiful, and the surrounding landscape is heavily wooded and full of flora and fauna. CLICK HERE to learn more about the park and its lodge.

Part of the Mothapalooza team poses post conference. From left (back row), it is Dave Horn, Mary Ann Barnett, Olivia Kittle, Elisabeth Rothschild, Scott Hogsten, and your blogger. Front row, from left, we have Diane Platco-Brooks, Fiona Reid, and Candice Talbot. Missing committee members are Dave Wagner, Tami Gingrich, Amy Mauro, and John Howard.

I could say lots of great things about all of these people, and the numerous other expert moth-ers, van and bus drivers, and volunteers that made Mothapalooza possible, but this would turn into a very LONG blog post. Suffice to say that we were fortunate to have most of THE BEST lepidopterists and naturalists around involved, and that's what makes Mothapalooza such a special event. I do have to single out Mary Ann. She got on board with the concept from the beginning, and has served as our CEO for both Mothapalooza I and II. Without her talents, organizational skills, and hard work, it wouldn't be possible. We are also grateful to the Ohio Division of Wildlife for its support of Mothapalooza and natural history in general, and the Ohio Lepidopterists for their invaluable assistance. Please CLICK HERE for the complete roster of our supporters, all of whom we greatly appreciate! And keep in mind that National Moth Week soon approaches!

An avid group of moth-ers clusters around a sheet late at night, ogling all manner of interesting creatures. Mothapalooza field trips are quite unlike other conferences that I've been part of. We don't head out until dark, and many people did not return to the lodge until 2 or 3 am. We probably had a better shot at seeing the (mythical) Bigfoot than the people at the previous week's conference did!

There were five mothing stations scattered around the area, each rigged with light traps to lure in our targets. A fleet of vans, driven by wonderful volunteers, regularly visited each site, taking people to and fro. Organizing and managing all of that was a major headache, and kudos go to Olivia Kittle and Elisabeth Rothschild for taking all of it on and handling logistics beautifully. We also owe a big debt to moth expert Diane Platco-Brooks, who opened up her property, Brookside Haven, to Mothapaloozians. Diane's place is fabulous and moth-filled, and was the hand's-down favorite site. What a gracious host, to allow two nights of raving moth fanatics to invade and moth until the wee hours!

It wouldn't be much of a Mothapalooza without moths, but we had plenty of those. This was a "life moth" for your narrator and many others. It is a pink-legged tiger moth, Spilosoma latipennis, and a showy creature it is.

We were dazzled by the incredible camouflage of this mottled prominent, Macrurocampa marthesia.It is a lichen mimic, and when at rest on lichen dappled bark the moth essentially becomes invisible.

Photo: Ed Lux

We saw much more than moths. This southern flying squirrel caused a stir when it glided down from the trees, landed on Brian Herriott's shoulder, bounced off him and onto a lady standing nearby, then shot back into the trees. Diane Platco-Brooks also had feeding stations stocked with crunchy peanut butter, and her flying squirrels entertained scores of people.

Scott Hogsten found this oddity. It is a wasp mantidfly, Climaciella brunnea, which is sort of a mad scientist melding of a dragonfly and a praying mantis.This species is also an excellent wasp mimic to boot. The reproductive strategy of mantidflies is every bit as bizarre as the insect's appearance, but that story will have to wait until another day.

We also had day field trips to varied habitats. This fine group was part of an excursion led by John Howard and myself which ventured into the Wallace O'Dowd Wildlife Area. There were many highlights, not the least of which was an eye level summer tanager hunting wasps and bees within twenty feet of the group.

We also stumbled into this little Cope's gray treefrog, who remained tucked into its Bhuddalike stance, regarding us with utterly inscrutable eyes. It remained silent, but at night the treefrogs came alive. I made a post about the frogs at Diane's place RIGHT HERE.

It was only fitting that David Wagner's Saturday afternoon field trip group found this extraordinary beast, the paddle caterpillar, Acronicta funeralis. After all, it is prominently featured on the cover of his book the Owlet Caterpillars of Eastern North America. It uses those strange paddle-tipped threadlike structures to flail would-be predatory insects such as ants, flies, or wasps.

Soon, I'll slap up a moth-heavy post. We found legions of ultra-cool moths, and I look forward to sharing some of them.

Thanks to everyone who made Mothapalooza a big success, and traveled from near and far to be a part of it. We are already cooking up plans for Mothapalooza III!

Some neat bugs

Photo by Scott Namestnik.

A little while back, I made an entry about teasels, and included some comments about insect use of their phytotelmata, or water pools that form in the bases of the cuplike leaves. Scott Namestnik sends along the above photo, of a Tabanus horsefly drinking from the cup of a Cut-leaved Teasel, Dipsacus laciniatus. Some of Scott's work can be FOUND HERE. Very cool photo; thanks for sharing it, Scott!

On a recent foray, a sharp-eyed associate spotted this utterly bizarre critter. It is a Mantid Fly, Climaciella brunnea, one of the major oddities of the insect world.

Mantid Flies resemble a mixture of a wasp, praying mantis, and fly all rolled into one. This species is fairly large - perhaps an inch long, and is armed with a formidable pair of forelegs. And it's those legs that give these insects their common name. Thick and powerful, they are heavily armed with stiff spines, and the fly uses them to seize victims.

Photo by Patrick Coin, via BugGuide.net.

Another fascinating apect of this particular Mantid Fly is that it clearly seems to mimic paper wasps in the genus Polistes, especially the above species, the Common Paper Wasp, Polistes exclamans. Scroll up and compare the previous photo and see what you think.

So it is a double whammy. Our fearsome fly is a formidable killing machine. Yet, it looks like another unrelated nasty stinger; a wasp that nearly everyone, man or beast, knows to leave alone. Not a bad deal for the Mantid Fly.

Green Mantidfly!

 

Mantidflies are bizarre entomological oddities on nearly every level, and in general they don't seem very common. Most of the ones that I see come into the lights at mothing stations, but every now and then, I'll stumble upon one unexpectedly. Which was surely the case here, although it was sharp-eyed Norah Tempus who did the finding. A group of us were out in the woods on a nocturnal prowl at the Midwest Native Plant Conference at Mt. St. Johns in Greene County, when she called us over for a look at the extraordinary beast.

As you inferred from the post's title, it is a Green Mantidfly (Zeugomantispa minuta). While all the mantidflies are strange and interesting in their own way, this one is especially fetching. It's the first of its kind that I recall seeing. While about 400 mantidfly species occur worldwide only five or so are found in Ohio, and any sighting is memorable. This one, with its lime-green coloration and ornate wing venation, is especially fetching. Green Mantidfly has an enormous range, extending from about our latitude south through the eastern U.S. and on south through Central America and into South America.

Mantidflies look like something cobbled together by a mad scientist. The foreparts resemble a praying mantis, replete with colorful gemmed eyes. Powerful forelegs are used to seize prey, which might be anything smaller than the mantidfly. As this mantidfly is maybe an inch long, we're talking small prey. The wings appear to be stolen off a lacewing, and the thickened abdomen smacks of a wasp.

It gets weirder. Many mantidflies, this one included, are parasitoids of spiders. A larval mantidfly, shortly after hatching, seeks a ride on a spider. When a suitable arachnid passes by, the larval mantidfly hops aboard. If the spider turns out to be a male, the hitchhiker awaits its discovery of a female and subsequent mating. While the spiders are so engaged, the clever mantidfly crosses over to the female. When the female spider begins to create its silken egg sac, the mantidfly hops in and is sealed up with lots of fresh eggs. It then gorges on fresh spider eggs, pupates within the spider nest and eventually emerges as an adult.

That strikes me as pretty risky business, this mantidfly lifecycle. Perhaps that's why they seem to be rather scarce.

Say's Mantidfly

 

As always, click the image to enlarge

This oddity is a Say's Mantidfly (Dicromantispa sayi). It's as if the thing was assembled by a mad scientist: part lacewing, with the body of a paper wasp, the forelegs of a praying mantis, and the beak of a bird, with giant jewels for eyes. Its life cycle is equally bizarre, involving hitching rides as larvae on female spiders, then preying on her eggs. Mantidflies are occasional nocturnal visitors to moth sheets and will sometimes prey on small moths and other insects when they appear. Glenn Crisler put much effort into wrangling this one for photos ops, with success. Mothapalooza, Pike County, Ohio, July 20, 2024.

Dobsonfly: Bit of a horrorshow, this one

Ah, the legendary hellgrammite, many a bass fisherman's dream bait. This multi-legged larva looks like a mini dragon, and has a powerful set of pinchers to boot. Mishandle one of these aquatic beasts, and it'll nip you, too. I caught this one on a darter-hunting expedition in Big Darby Creek a few years back. Hellgrammites are strictly aquatic, and lurk in the substrate of streams, capturing whatever they can. Ugly as this insect may be, their presence is in a waterway is a nice thing - hellgrammites are indicators of good water quality.

If you are an entomophobe, you'll not find the dobsonfly any more appealing than its hellgrammite larval stage. Corydalus cornutus is a whopper of a bug, and males such as the one in this photo measure several inches in length.

We lured a few of these beasts to our lights last week in Adams County. We were after moths, but they're not the only critters attracted to bright lights at night, and I was pleased to spot this bruiser on the wall. It's a male dobsonfly, as can easily be told by the incredibly long scimitar-shaped mandibles (females' mandibles are much shorter). They use the swordlike mandibles for self defense, and typically fly suddenly at a person invading their space, quickly thrusting each mandible deep into the person's eyes. With an abrupt reversal of its flight coupled with a fierce jerk of the mandibles, the dobsonfly rips the victim's eyes from the sockets, and flies off to feed them to its mate.

Just kidding. Ferocious as the dobsonfly may appear, it is actually utterly harmless. While one may try to give a pinch with its mandibles if mistreated, they're too long and flimsy to gain much purchase, and would cause no harm. All visual bark and no real bite.

We were intrigued to see this Carolina mantis sneaking up on the huge dobsonfly. I watched this drama for a while, my camera's video function at the ready, hoping the mantid would attack. It bobbed, weaved, cocked its pointy triangular head, waved its legs and swayed side to side, but wouldn't get any closer to the dobsonfly than this. Fierce as the mantids are, this dobsonfly was apparently too much and the would-be predator chickened out. Can't say as I blame it.

Mantidfly: They don't make 'em much more bizarre than this!

One can only imagine the fits of rapturous ecstasy that washed over me when I saw this thing flutter by on a recent trip to Adams County, Ohio. Well, that may be overstating the case a bit, but I truly was pleased to see this mantidfly, and all the more happy in that it cooperated for photos. I have only seen a handful of these six-legged oddities in my years afield, and this time I was armed with an excellent macro rig.

Mantidflies look like the result of a mad scientist's experiment gone awry. It's as if Igor were sent to the spare parts bins, drunk, and returned with the wings of a dragonfly, the body of a paper wasp, the head of a damselfly, and the raptorial forelegs of a praying mantis. Then, the evil doctor welded them all together, and Voila! This is what we've got.

These insects have a lifecycle as bizarre as their appearance, and the hoops that they've got to jump through to make it to the adult stage may account for their seeming scarcity. I don't know of anyone who claims to see tons of mantidflies. There are only about four or five species in this part of the world, in about as many genera. Mantidflies are in the Order Neuroptera, along with lacewings, owlflies, antlions and that sort of thing. I believe this species is Dicromantispa interrupta.

As you may have inferred from the mantidfly's powerful-looking thickened forelegs, it is a predator. Hapless lesser bugs that wander too near are seized, and unceremoniously gutted and eaten with the mantidfly's odd little beak. I don't imagine they miss much, either, given the proportionately massive size of its eyes. The entire dangerous front end of this thing is attached to a strange-looking thorax that resembles a bone.

Things only get weirder as one drills into the mantidfly lifecycle. A female carpet bombs the plants with clusters of hundreds of eggs. She needs to dump a lot of them, as the chances of an egg making it to the adult stage are slim indeed. After a few weeks, a tiny larval mantidfly pops out, and lurks in the foliage awaiting a suitable host. When an appropriate spider (other mantidflies use bees or beetles) comes along, the fledgling mantidfly leaps aboard and firmly attaches itself to the underside of the arachnid.

If all goes well, the spider eventually hauls her dangerous cargo to the nest. Should the larval mantidfly mistakenly board a male spider, it'll realize its error and attempt to cross over to the female when and if the male finds a partner and commences mating. The larva's relationship with the adult spider is phoretic: it is just using the spider to hitch a ride. If by some minor miracle the larval mantidfly makes it to the Holy Land - a spider nest - it will then hop off and ensconce itself with the arachnid eggs. There it will morph into a grublike form and feed on the spider's eggs, eventually pupating and transforming to the strange adult insect seen in these photos.

Strange doesn't even cover it

A colleague at work, Ken Pendley, is quite the amateur entomologist and regularly produces all manner of insect oddities. He scored big time yesterday in the world of strange when he brought in a mantisfly. I can't resist quoting from the excellent book Field Guide to Insects of North America, by Eric Eaton and Kenn Kaufman: "Mantisflies resemble a science experiment gone horribly wrong. Imagine shrinking a praying mantis, then attaching its front end to the hind end of a lacewing, and you have a mantispid".

Sums it up pretty well.

Good thing its only about an inch long. It's from critters like this that the Japanese no doubt find the inspiration to create some of those god-awful creatures in B-movie horror flicks. But this one is real. They do look a lot like praying mantids, at least the forelegs. Mantisflies are predators, and even though they are closely allied with lacewings and not praying mantises, convergent evolution is at work here, and they have evolved similar powerful forelegs, the better to seize prey with.

There are a number of mantisflies, but I believe this one is Mantispa sayi. It has incredible cobalt-blue eyes with a star-shaped pattern in the center. You can see the Popeye-like forearms here. Wouldn't want to be the unfortunate insect that wandering into the path of this thing.

This excellent photo courtesy Tim Daniel, Ohio Division of Wildlife. The forelegs armed with stiff raptorial spines can be seen. Those stiff spines reduce - probably eliminate - any chance of slipping through the mantisfly's clutches.

The life cycle of most mantisflies is even stranger than their appearance. They lay dozens of tiny eggs along pathways regularly used by spiders. When the tiny mantispid hatches, it attempts to leap onto a passing spider. If successful, it clambers on top and works its way toward the base of the thorax, a location that is fairly safe from the spider's grasp.

Along it goes, like an Arab on a camel, until the spider begins construction of its nest. At just the right time, after the spider eggs have been laid but before the nest is to sealed in by webbing, the larval mantispid dismounts and scurries into the spider nest. This can only be a risky proposition, and may explain why these mantisflies are not very common.

Once the young spiderlets begin hatching, the larval mantisfly begins feeding on them. All goes well, and eventually another of the bizarre alienlike predators shown above emerges; the final stage of what is certainly one of the strangest insect life cycles there is.

This is almost too weird to believe, but true.