Grizzly Monster - the Grizzled Mantis

After a long nature walk with a group of kids, a young boy asked me “How do you know so much?” and I replied “I don’t know that much, but I’m telling you what I know”. We could learn a million things a day and the world would still be full of amazing mysteries at the moment we draw our last breath.

When I personally discover something I have never seen before I presumptively claim it as a new discovery to science. I have never succeeded in any attempt to name a critter after myself.

We were exploring the Florida Caverns State Park recently and before descending into limestone darkness my wife spotted an insect that looked other worldly. Its chitinous exoskeleton was camouflaged to resemble lichens you’d find on a tree trunk and the body shape looked similar to a cockroach. As I photographed it, the 6-legged creature bowed its back and tilted its triangular shaped head towards me. It made eye contact, giving me the creeps. I feared for a moment that this bug might rear back, launch itself towards me and rip my face off, which it didn't.

I’ve never seen anything like this but it seemed oddly familiar…vaguely recognizable. I motioned to a park ranger who was prattling on about caves, sinkholes, caverns and other giant holes in the ground and asked if he knew what it was. He looked at it with disinterest and continued his subterranean sermon.

I sent the photo to fellow Audubon Guides writer Kent McFarland, who with curiosity, in turn passed the photo around until the strange beastly insect had a name. The Grizzled Mantis, aka Florida Bark Mantis (Gonatista grisea) is native to the southeastern United States. Like a Transformer it can tuck itself neatly into the form you see here or rear back with wings fanned out and front legs up in a defensive posture like other mantids.
So no – not a new discovery – but an absolutely fantastic find nonetheless. I’ll have to keep looking for Junglis Corradinii.

Balloons for Grandma

Lie to your kids. It amuses me.

I was hiking in the Everglades two weeks ago and spotted a shiny object floating between two Cypress trees deep in the far reaches of the swamp. It was a Mylar balloon and the metallic exterior shimmered and reflected the rare sunbeam that broke through the dense forest canopy. It reminded me that no place is far enough away from the hand of humanity.

This is what happens to some of the balloons that get away from kids. My niece lost a balloon a few months ago and my sister told her not to cry - the balloon was floating away and grandma would get it. Presumably my sister thinks our mother lives in space since passing on 2 years ago. The situation repeated itself a few months later and Tara reminded Peyton once again that the balloon was headed up to Grandma. When Peyton lost another balloon recently Tara once again calmed the greasy-fingered kid and told her not to worry - and you know the rest. The apparently agitated three year old had had enough of this explanation and demanded to know what Grandma was doing with all of her balloons. I can only hope she's having a rockin' party.

I think parents feel the need to make up the balloon story for a few reasons. The first being that many balloons float back to earth where lucky little kids get to frolic with your kid's lost balloon. Explain that to a kid.

Another is that many balloons return to earth as litter - disrupting a wilderness slog through the swamp or falling into an ocean where a confused turtle will attempt to eat it - thinking it's a jellyfish. Telling your kid that Crush choked on their balloon is generally upsetting.

And finally - the idea that an 8-armed alien holding a bouquet of your kid's balloon on the moon is simply creepy and would freak them out.

So instead - lie to them - it works for so many other things. And hey Peyton - you keep making that face and you'll turn into a monkey.

Happy 66th Birthday Mom - wherever you are.