What if insects are like us? Wait, aren’t they?

I just recently read a blog written by a friend, who revealed that she’s terrified of insects. I did not know that – our friendship was confined to a community project – and her comment made me pause.

 

My friend probably doesn’t know that I’ve recently indulged an artistic itch by creating a series of pen and colored pencil drawings that portray insect behavior by giving them human characteristics.

 

I’ve become intrigued with “What if insects are like us?” scenarios. Like, what happens after a female praying mantis mates with her groom before the wedding? She smokes a cigarette, right? But, of course, in the Mantidae world, the wedding is canceled because she was compelled to kill him after mating.

 

Or, for example, would a honeybee Queen soften the blow of forcing drones out of the hive to their deaths by hosting a party called “Walk the Plank”? You know, make their last moments fun.

 

Obviously not, but it IS true that the drones – who provide nothing but summer fertilization services to the Queen and therefore have no right to winter food – ARE forced out to die in the Fall by worker bees. So why not pretend that death occurs at a pirate costume party?

 

Looking at insects and bugs in this new light of human characteristics, I’ve been placing them into all sorts of unsuitable yet entertaining scenarios.

But I digress.

walk the plank

At first I felt bad that I did not know my friend was scared of insects – what kind of a friend was I? Why would a person be terrified of insects? I wanted to know but held off prying into her phobia since my motive admittedly would be to bring her into the fold of “Those Who Aren’t Scared of Insects.” She might have thought this selfish, and I can’t afford to alienate any more normal friends.

 

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not obsessed with bugs. It’s all I can do not to grab a newspaper to whop a wolf spider scuttling across the floor – those knuckle-dragging puppies seriously creep me out. But I’ve acquired a small nugget of knowledge for the importance of insects in our environment and a growing fascination as I research their habits for my drawings. I don’t think there’s anything to be scared of. Grossed out maybe – and occasionally terrified – but (usually) not scared.

 

So, following my son’s lead – he was once an entomology major – I now coax most spiders and bugs found inside the house onto a piece of cardboard or paper towel and release them outside.

 

And, I’ve pardoned from a quick death (and named) a tiny jumping spider (Mortimer, since I know you’re curious) who spent the winter in one of our hanging houseplants. He strolled back and forth across the living room ceiling every now and then, and I wished him good day but encouraged him to go toward the light as I knew food was scarce in the houseplant. We had a real connection: the last time I saw him, I think I saw one leg go up in greeting as he passed overhead. I think it was a leg.

Anyway, my interest in bugs actually did a slow jump-start a few years ago  – after I retired and my brain relaxed – when it seemed to me that humans were becoming hell-bent on driving bees and other pollinators to extinction. Such destruction seemed pretty shortsighted, so I thought I might draw a few simple pictures illustrating the picturesque life of bees and their value and maybe create a fondness for the wee critters.

 

Well, then I learned that honeybees are kind of like The Borg in Star Trek, and with that thought the bucolic picture of bees gently spreading pollen from flower to flower changed. These critters are seriously focused on survival. So, I began to look at all insects more realistically and occurred to me that they have needs, offspring, purpose – they’re actually just like us. Right?

 

And even though they don’t know they need us, they kinda do. And we kinda need them (except fleas, ticks, bedbugs, and those wolf spiders), even though we misunderstand them, fear them, swat them, and step on them with our ginormous feet because we can.

 

Have you ever seen the movie Men in Black II? In the scene where Agent K regains his memory, he once again sees the aliens around him and chooses not to step on a cockroach, who sincerely thanks him in the English language. See?? You just never know.

 

But rather than overwhelm my friend with a plea to adopt a sudden exuberant interest in the world of insects, I think I will approach her phobia with a simple suggestion on how to begin dealing with her fear: more understanding – less squishing.

 



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