Driven by curiosity and the urge to test the hypothesis that the smaller, similarly brown-mottled but black forlegged mantid was indeed the male of Diego’s species (ok, driven by the sheer excitement of having little Diegos to complete the whole cycle as well), we found and collected one of these, and in a social entomological experiment, chucked them together after ensuring that they were both well-fed and would highly unlikely bite each other’s heads off in the notorious cannibalistic manner of mating mantids. Diego was nearly two weeks into adulthood, and her sexual organs should have matured.

The first time we placed them together, yesterday, Diego would get ‘freaked out’ and dart away whenever the male approached, although the male was showing no signs of being consciously attracted to her. Not being able to observe them throughout the night, I separated them and vowed to try again this evening.

So I did… after Diego had consumed a grasshopper her size in the afternoon.

Both their antennae twitched continuously. Diego turned her head to look at the male, then faced front again, as if paying him no attention. Then the male sprung, and landed on her back to front. He about turned, then turned again. Wrong direction. He then got off… and they paid no need to each other. I removed him.

Tried again a second time a few moments later. This round, he pounced, re-orientated himself, and tried to connect. Success – after about 18 seconds. She stayed still throughout the entire process.

They were at it for 22 minutes, before he dismounted and flew off.

Now I can’t wait to see if she lays a fertilised ootheca!

With long and graspy legs, nasty jaw-like mandibles and modified appendages through which they inject their prey with venom, these house centipedes look like the epitome of all that’s evil and dangerous in the wilderness at night.

Yet they do no more harm to humans than the average spider – if they do bite at all. Most just scuttle off into the undergrowth at the slightest hint of disturbance. One individual was most cooperative as we four photographers manoeuvred into position around it. It was so still that one of us made a remark along the lines of, “It wouldn’t be surprising if it was actually already dead and suddenly just dropped to the ground!”

Such close encounters are rare; and we made the most of this opportunity to capture whatever we could of this ‘pede as the clocks tick-tocked closer towards midnight.

More photos from the night here.

The surest thing there is is we are riders,
And though none too successful at it, guiders,
Through everything presented, land and tide
And now the very air, of what we ride.

What is this talked-of mystery of birth
But being mounted bareback on the earth?
We can just see the infant up astride,
His small fist buried in the bushy hide.

There is our wildest mount–a headless horse.
But though it runs unbridled off its course,
And all our blandishments would seem defied,
We have ideas yet that we haven’t tried.

~ Robert Frost

Okay, so Diego’s a female.

We counted eight abdominal segments when Diego was a nymph, so we took a risk and named it a him even though we knew that we could really only tell when it reached maturity. We also knew that creatures should be its, but it’s got too much character to be called an it.

We thought Diego was going to explode. A month had gone by without him her undergoing ecdysis, yet she was still eating and growing. Her little wing buds looked as if they would burst at the seams any minute.

A couple of days ago, I transferred her into a bigger container, increased the humidity with a ball of wet wool, and provided her with some fibrous twine to hang upside down from.

Today in the afternoon, she moulted.

I watched, entranced, for an hour.

Right after she slipped out of her old exoskeleton – which took but less than five minutes, I took her out in her teneral state and placed her on a potted plant, letting the breeze dry her new wings, then still damp and clumped.

I observed the process of her transformation into full adult form as body fluids were pumped into her fragile and new structures. She lost a tarsus in her previous instar during a struggle with a grasshopper prey, but the lost appendage had regenerated in this final moult. After her cuticles hardened, she started grooming herself in her characteristic mantid way, brushing antennae and femurs with her mandibles and wiping her face like a cat does.

She’s so pretty…

Not entirely certain what species Diego is (this looks like a good fit), but we’re quite sure these are the males of her species, with handsome black forelegs and roach-like long antennae.

Clinic staff [over the phone]: Can I have your name?

Me: Xxxxxx Xxx. Xxx is my last name, X-x-x.

Clinic staff: Chinese name?

Me: Um, Xxx is my surname…

Clinic staff: What is your full name?

Me: Xxxxxx Xxx is my full name.

Clinic staff: What is your Chinese name?

Me: It’s not in my full name.

Clinic staff: If I call you in Chinese, what is your name?

Me: Xxx Xxx, but it does not appear in my full name.

Clinic staff: No Chinese name?

Me: Yeah, no Chinese name in my full name. Xxxxxx Xxx is my full NRIC name.

Clinic staff: Ok, thank you Miss Xxx. See you later.

How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn’t care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.

~ Emily Dickinson

A very pretty male with blue irises:

More photos here.