I have a friend in my garden and his name is Mickey Mantis.
Mickey is an insect-catching praying mantis. I named him after
another Mickey, one known more for his ball-catching and hitting
abilities. My Mickey is also surrounded by
”
teammates
”
– other praying mantids that hatched from a mantid egg case I
purchased from a nursery last spring.
I have a friend in my garden and his name is Mickey Mantis. Mickey is an insect-catching praying mantis. I named him after another Mickey, one known more for his ball-catching and hitting abilities. My Mickey is also surrounded by “teammates” – other praying mantids that hatched from a mantid egg case I purchased from a nursery last spring.
I must admit I was skeptical about hatching my own mantids. I’ve bought live ladybugs before, and they all flew off to purge themselves with aphids from my neighbor’s gardens. I didn’t really remember about my mantid egg case until I noticed several green, grasshopper-like mantids hopping away from the unwelcome shower I unwittingly gave them while watering. Since then, Mickey and his teammates – I call them the Minnesota Mantids – have been doing a pretty good job of keeping my garden free of insect pests. Their diet consists of everything from aphids to houseflies, crickets and tomato hornworms. I learned a single praying mantis will eat as many as 700 insects in their short lifespan.
I’ve never thought of myself as a masochist, but I got great pleasure in watching the mantids at work. It was amazing to see two-inch mantids take on a five-inch tomato hornworm. Mickey would hold his bristly prey between his forelegs and eat it like a piece of corn. When finished eating, Mickey would place the hornworm remnants on the ground and proceed to clean himself with movements quite like those of a cat. For 10 minutes, he would rub his forelegs over his head and shoulders, then gently whisk his face.
It was interesting to watch them grow as well. As they do, a mantids’ old skin will split and be left attached to a twig. There it will hang like a transparent ghost, complete with small claws and antennae.
All this enjoyment, however, came to a crashing halt last week. I discovered partially eaten bodies of a half dozen mantids in my garden near the apple tree. Their role in the lifecycle was over. I knew about the mantids mating habits, with the females eating the males when their time had come. Somehow, though, it had slipped my mind. It was kind of like winning the Reader’s Digest sweepstakes. I knew somebody won it, but never thought it would affect me.
Mickey and the rest of his teammates obviously won’t be around next season. I’m confident, though, that the “minor leaguers” that will mature in the egg masses this winter will come forth next year. They will join me in my garden chores and take on all-comers. Everybody knows repeating a pennant is always tough. I have confidence, though. You gotta believe.
