Every two weeks early on Tuesday morning I go to JBG Organic to take photos of the farm. I’m sure I have logged millions of steps, positioning myself all over that almost 200-acre piece of land over the last 10 years. 100,000’s of photos, from every position and waypoint, down on the ground looking up from the vantage point of a pattypan squash to over 20ft in the air after carefully climbing onto the roof of a box truck. From the coldest ice-encrusted day to the hottest sweat drenching August heatwave.
This week, possibly for the first time as far as I can remember, I crossed paths with a Praying Mantis. Now at first, this might not seem like a special event, but earlier this year I had an experience that in my mind, connected me to this creature forever. And right before this encounter, I had just been texting a friend about this blog post-challenge, which is something I have been feeling urged to do for many months. Maybe signs, maybe not. I don’t mind a little magical thinking.
On March 25, 2017, my father passed, a year and a half after he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS). After he was gone I considered getting my first tattoo, to commemorate him in the same way my younger cousin commemorated our grandparents. By putting their signatures on the inside of his biceps. I resolved to do the same and my stepmother provided me with some samples of my Dad’s from a 1974 hunting license and a bank statement. I combined the best parts of both and I was ready.
It’s a pretty small tattoo so it was not that painful at all. I’m still glad I have it and I’m grateful I found the perfect person for my first time. The whole experience was almost enjoyable. What happened next is somewhat bizarre. I left the tattoo shop, got into my car, and there staring at me was a Praying Mantis sitting on the top of my passenger seat. My eyes got big and my mind raced through all of the inexplicable ways this insect could have gotten into my car. I felt at that moment it was a sign from my dad or somehow related to him and the tattoo. Maybe a thumbs up at the gesture? Maybe a sign that he is OK? No telling.
The history of symbolism related to Mantids is very old and elaborate. When I searched online for some meaning the first website I came to spoke of the mantis being a hunter and the qualities of patience, stillness, and a kind of stoicism. What I read resonated with me as I thought about my father and who he was. I’m still in disbelief and don’t quite know what to think about it.
I regret this decision, but I decided to gingerly remove my passenger and left them in the parking garage. Not the best environment. Did I ruin the magic of the moment? Who knows. But a few weeks later, after not having anything related to my Dad in any way cross my consciousness, something uncommon that I can't recall now came up, and that day a dead mantis fell from the trunk of my car upon opening at the grocery store. Again, how did that get there, and was it the same one?
Here is an extra fun story if you have time. So I come across this mantis at the farm and I’m just in awe. What other insect looks at you and stands its ground with such bold awareness and intelligence? I can’t think of any.
That very mantis, pictured at the top of this post, was sitting on a leaf of a red cabbage plant. We were checking each other out and I noticed it was somewhat hiding below a spider web. And then I saw the spider. Why not wait a few minutes to see if anything happens. Moving away a few feet allowed the mantis to ignore me and focus on its next meal.
In the center of the web was this dime-sized spider waiting for his prey, unknowingly about to become prey themself. It was only maybe five minutes and the spider ran out to the edge of its web to grab some poor flying insect just entangled. As soon as the spider returned to its center resting spot to enjoy its catch, the mantis made its move. Even though I was staring right at it, the action was so fast as to be imperceptible to my eyes. 2 for 1, the mantis got a spider and its short-lived lunch.
With the manual focus assist of my camera, I was able to watch very close up as the mantis proceed to dismantle and devour the feast clutched in the tibial spines of its raptorial front legs. The movements of its mouthparts were a horrendous sight as they all seemed to be working out of sync but with ravenous purpose. Spider leg after leg was swallowed as you would holding a single long-cooked spaghetti noodle above your head and slowly lowering it down into your gullet. And in very short order it was over.