Mantid whacks wasp!

Requiring a bit of a respite from various desk-bound tasks this afternoon, I wandered out to our "weedy" little patch by the office. I snatched the Panasonic from the car's trunk first, just in case. It wasn't long before I heard the rapid guttural chirps of multiple Japanese burrowing crickets, Velarifictorus micado, out back of the building. Aha! thought I - I shall finally photo-document this ever-increasing invader. I first started hearing these Asian crickets about three years ago, and now hear them everywhere. In fact, one sings nightly from a crevice under my back porch steps. Getting a photo of one is a bit like playing whac-a-mole. I prod the partially concealed little singer to coax him from his burrow. He briefly pops up, I ready the camera, the cricket goes subterranean, I prod with twig again, Up, Down, me never fast enough with the camera's trigger.

Tiring of the cricket's game, I wandered into the goldenrods seeking easier fare.

We have a nice patch of Canada goldenrod, Solidago canadensis, and it is now at peak bloom. Goldenrods are beacons for all manner of pollinating insects, and trust me, you'll never want for macro subjects when around these plants. There were plenty of Northern paper wasps, Polistes fuscatus, working the flowers and the one above is so thoroughly drenched in pollen that its field marks are nearly obscured.

Paper wasps pack a nasty punch. We can refer to the Schmidt Sting Pain Index to see just how painful the sting of this very common wasp is. If you've not heard of this rather bizarre excercise in scientific masochism, an entomologist named Justin Schmidt set out, a few decades ago, to quantify and compare the stings of various insects in the Hymenoptera. He did this by letting stinging insects sting him, of course. His magnum opus, first published in 1984, is the aforementioned Schmidt Sting Pain Index. Its scale goes from 1 to 4+, with a 1 being a very mild, only slightly painful sting. Our paper wasp weighs in at a 3, and its sting is described by Schmidt as follows:

 "Caustic and burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut".

Ouch. And what a hand's-on scientist is Mr. Schmidt.

But there always seems to be a bigger, badder guy (female in this case) that comes along, and I noticed several large Chinese mantids, Tenodera sinensis, patiently stalking the flower patch. Given the number of nectar-seeking wasps that were about, I kept a watch on things.

A mantid slowly and swayingly works into good position below a heavily visited panicle of goldenrod blossoms. These insects don't miss much, those large eyes instantly locking on to the slightest movement.

I moved in a bit too closely with my lens, and she gave me the evil eye. After all, I was horning in on her hunting!

Bingo! She eventually lunged and seized a paper wasp, displaying utter disregard for the wasp's formidable 3 ranking on the Schmidt Sting Pain Index. Whether the wasp stung her I don't know, but I'm sure it tried. Given that the mantid instantly immobilized the potentially dangerous stinging insect with vise-like front legs, the wasp probably couldn't get at her. When I moved in close to make some photos, I could clearly hear the rather dry crunching as the mantid's powerful mandibles made mincemeat of #3 on the Schmidt Sting Pain Index.

And then my 20 minutes of documenting life in the goldenrod patch was up, and it was time to return to work.

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.