Praying for Survival

Climbing out of the shower one late autumn morning, I grabbed my towel and started to dry myself off. Thunk! Something fell to the ground and I immediately looked down. The culprit lay struggling on the tiles, a fat green praying mantid. “What were you doing there, you silly girl?” I asked as I took her to the bedroom and unceremoniously tipped her out of the window.

I knew she was a girl because she was so big and fat. Then suspicion set in and I investigated the towel. Sure enough, a half-finished nest clung to the edge. Without thinking, I started to scrape it off. Under the hardening shell was soft gooey yellow stuff and I realised these were probably the eggs. I hastily ran it under the tap in the basin, scraping until all of it was gone.

Despite the fact that the nest could not have been there very long, an ugly brown stain defied several washes. After a passing thought that I’d probably wiped out a generation of mantids, I soon forgot about it. A couple of months later, I was drawing the curtains in the bedroom to let in the beautiful spring morning light when I became aware of a horde of little creatures.

Everywhere I looked I saw tiny pale brown creepy crawlies. They littered the carpet, clung to the back of the curtains, hung on the wall and balanced precariously along the door frame. Curious, I leant closer to investigate one of them. Aha – a perfect little replica of that fat green giant. Its body was almost translucent and yet it still had the instinct the raise those front legs in the manner that gave it its name.

Was it praying I wouldn’t squash it? Well, its prayers got answered – but it was a close call. It’s easy to harm such a small body when you pick it up in clumsy fingers. As gently as possible I picked up bug after bug, collecting them in the palm of my left hand. With four or five of them threatening to crawl up my arm, I stepped outside and shook them off over the budding wisteria that covered the pergola.

I felt a certain sense of justice having taken place. While I’d ruined one nest of baby mantids, I’d saved another. But what is it that makes praying mantid mothers enter a house to lay their eggs? Most often, I’ve found them in our bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Could it be because the basic colour scheme is green?

I like my light green walls and I’m not about to redecorate. Those mantids foolish enough to enter will just have to keep praying for their survival.