The Praying Mantis – Man’s Benefactor

Suppose you should saunter out onto your porch one late summer afternoon, intent on nothing more than finding a cool breeze. Perched on a porch rail or table, you discover something that looks oddly like an animated baby string bean, propped up with green toothpicks.

As you move, it turns its triangular head toward you. You shift first one way, then another, and its gaze follows you with ease. You become slightly alarmed. This creature appears almost human, you think. What can it be? Will it sting or bite? Will it jump or fly at me?

Instinctively you reach for a flyswatter. But wait! You have just come upon a friend of yours, the praying mantis, an insect closely allied to the grasshopper family and known scientifically as an orthopterous insect of the family Mantidae.

It is not poisonous and will do you no harm, but to members of the insect world it is a deadly killer. Incidentally, this is the only known insect that can direct its gaze wherever it wishes, moving the head freely in all directions. Look for it in your vegetable garden, among your flowers, or even on a lighted window screen or porch of a summer evening… wherever insects are attracted.

The drama enacted in its quest for food is remarkable. Let’s watch as it dupes a grasshopper with its charm…

The mantis’ slender, graceful body is clothed in pale green from the top of its head to the tip of its toes. It sits quietly in the attitude of prayer that has caused it to bear its paradoxical name. Its arms are folded piously across its breast, and gossamer wings trail carelessly in back. It appears completely inoffensive. But as a grasshopper approaches, the mantis goes into its act.

It shivers convulsively and its wings suddenly tower erect over its back. The lower tip of the body curls up like a shepherd’s crook. It rises and falls in short jerks, the while making a whispering puff, the only sound of which it is capable. The front of this creature’s body stands almost upright with legs outstretched to form a cross.

For the first time you see that the forelegs are long, double-edged saw-like weapons of cruel sharpness with miniature pruning-hook ends. It holds this strange attitude and stares at its prey, turning only its triangular head if the victim moves.

Master of Hypnosis

The purpose of this grotesque position seems to be to strike terror into the heart of the intended victim. In this the mantis is always successful. The prey is numbed with fear. He stays where he is or stupidly creeps even closer. Suddenly the mantis strikes. Its double-edged saws flash, close, and clutch. The victim struggles, but in vain.

Deftly the mantis attacks the grass-hopper at the back of its neck in such manner that its power to move is destroyed. Leisurely, then, the mantis feasts on its only food… fresh, juicy meat.

As small and bulkless as it appears, it is not at all unusual for the mantis to attack insects as big as itself or even bigger. Beetles, grasshoppers, locusts, and insects even stronger prove no match for its cruel cunning and deadly weapons.

The carnivorous habits of this small creature are the qualities that make it extremely useful to mankind. Its ravenous appetite prods it to search constantly for insects, most of which are bent on destroying our crops. Hence, it is a valuable, but far too-little-known, assistant to the farmer and home gardener.

Over 60 years ago the European mantis was accidentally, but most opportunely, introduced into New York state. Agriculturists hope it will become sufficiently well established in its new surroundings to carry on with gusto its pest exterminating.

A most commendable practice of the mantis is never to kill except for food, which it seems to need continually. At one sitting an observer watched a mantis kill and eat three grasshoppers, each nearly an inch long, a daddy-long-legs, then tackle another mantis, without so much as stopping for rest or digestion.

It gorges on locusts and wasps. And if it should catch a wasp with prey of its own in its grasp, so much the better for the mantis. It gets two meals for the work of one.

You could heartily endorse its voracious appetite for destructive insects, if only this creature would restrain its cannabalistic tendencies. But it thinks nothing of feeding upon its sisters, and of course runs the same risk of being eaten by those of her kind.

Even the male mantis suffers the same fate. He is evidently so unimportant that practically no mention is made of him in entomological studies beyond his part in fertilizing the eggs, and immediately thereafter being devoured by his mate.

As a Nest Builder

The mantis builds a nest of unique structure, the like of which no human being has so far been able to duplicate. Perhaps some day you will run across one while puttering around outdoors. Here, then, is a preview of what happened to put it there:

A suitable site seems to be any sunny spot in August that affords a piece of brick, a twig, stone, plant stem, or even a bit of old leather. The female mantis alights on the chosen foundation and sets to work without effort, almost as if she neither knows nor cares what she does.

She lays the eggs at the same time she slowly excretes a sticky mucus, akin to silk. With two ladles at the tip of her body she whips this substance into a froth, as you would beat an egg white with a fork. The greyish-white foam that looks almost like soapsuds is sticky when it first appears, but in a couple of minutes has become quite hard.

Without so much as a backward glance at this peculiar process, a feat that amazes even human master minds of engineering, the mantis lays the eggs in such a way that the heads will all point toward the doorways in a nest that will prove impenetrable to weather and other insects. That is, it is impenetrable except for a mid-section of tiny, overlapping scales laid out in pairs. The edges of these scales are free to form doorways through which the young mantis is eventually hatched. Although the form of the nest-egg case varies to some extent, roughly it resembles an almond in size, shape, and color.

When the mantis finishes her egg-laying and nest-building, you get another inkling of her impious nature. As saint-like as she appears, you would at least expect her to be concerned for the young mantises. Instead they are left to fend for themselves in a world that proves most cruel and dangerous to them.

Youngsters in Peril

A few months later, on a bright mid-June morning, if you should happen onto a nest, you might be an innocent bystander at still another act in the stark drama. The tiny grubs begin to stir restlessly. Two by two they shove up the scales that cover the exits to their nest, and emerge into warm sunshine.

But often, before they have a chance to shake off their birth shackles, tiny ants lying in wait seize and pull them out of their sheaths and cut them in pieces. A horrible slaughter takes place almost before you realize what is happening, and few grubs escape. Those few who do manage to get away are further endangered by a little grey lizard who is especially fond of such dainty morsels. Out of a possible thousand eggs laid by the mantis, probably only one pair of these escapes destruction before reaching maturity.

In tropical countries this most remarkable of insects has assumed the hues and forms of flowers near which it lurks. Nature has bestowed upon it the envious power of mimicry as a protection in its business of destroying harmful insects. In Java a pink mantis has been discovered that so closely resembles a pink orchid that it is difficult to differentiate between them.

Because of the praying mantis pugnacious tendencies, Japanese and Chinese have often kept them in captivity. For sport they place a couple of mantises together in a cage. The resulting fight causes great excitement, and spectators wager large sums of money on the outcome.

In the “old” countries, peasants of yesteryear, living close to Nature, were well acquainted with the praying mantis. During the centuries of its existence, they have regarded both the creature and its nest with peculiar reverence.

Legendary Powers

In sixteenth century England they believed that the mantis was endowed with a peculiar sense of direction that would come to the aid of a wanderer. “If ever you are lost,” the story goes, “ask the mantis the way. She will stretch out one of her feet and point to you the way to go. Seldom does she miss.” She was, the peasants were certain, possessed of super-natural powers.

In Provence, a long-ago division of France, the nest was thought to be a remedy for chilblains. Cut one into pieces, squeeze its juice onto the chilblain and they would disappear magically, these simple folk believed.

The Italians felt certain the nest had mystic qualities that would prevent or even cure a toothache. Under a certain moon, women gathered the nests. Carefully they were tucked into a cupboard for future needs. As long as you had your “tigno,” you would be free from toothache. Should you lose this charm, you might go to a friend and plead, “Lend me your tigno; I am in pain and the light of the moon is wrong to find another.” A good friend would always oblige, and you, supposedly, soon experienced relief.

Although today we doubt the powers of its remarkable nest, and the mantis’ ability to discern direction, we cannot for a moment doubt its effective benefits to mankind, because of the tremendous volume of insects it devours annually.

by Ruth Paynier

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