THE MANTIS: HER LOVE-MAKING
The little that we have seen of the Mantis’ habits hardly tallies with
what we might have expected from her popular name. To judge by the term
Prègo-Diéu, we should look to see a placid insect, deep in pious
contemplation; and we find ourselves in the presence of a cannibal, of
a ferocious spectre munching the brain of a panic-stricken victim. Nor
is even this the most tragic part. The Mantis has in store for us, in
her relations with her own kith and kin, manners even more atrocious
than those prevailing among the Spiders, who have an evil reputation in
this respect.
To reduce the number of cages on my big table and give myself a little
more space while still retaining a fair-sized menagerie, I instal
several females, sometimes as many as a dozen, under one cover. So far
as accommodation is concerned, no fault can be found with the common
lodging. There is room and to spare for the evolutions of my captives,
who naturally do not want to move about much with their unwieldy
bellies. Hanging to the trelliswork of the dome, motionless they digest
their food or else await an unwary passer-by. Even so do they act when
at liberty in the thickets.
Cohabitation has its dangers. I know that even Donkeys, those
peace-loving animals, quarrel when hay is scarce in the manger. My
boarders, who are less complaisant, might well, in a moment of dearth,
become sour-tempered and fight among themselves. I guard against this
by keeping the cages well supplied with Locusts, renewed twice a day.
Should civil war break out, famine cannot be pleaded as the excuse.
At first, things go pretty well. The community lives in peace, each
Mantis grabbing and eating whatever comes near her, without seeking
strife with her neighbours. But this harmonious period does not last
long. The bellies swell, the eggs are ripening in the ovaries, marriage
and laying-time are at hand. Then a sort of jealous fury bursts out,
though there is an entire absence of males who might be held
responsible for feminine rivalry. The working of the ovaries seems to
pervert the flock, inspiring its members with a mania for devouring one
another. There are threats, personal encounters, cannibal feasts. Once
more the spectral pose appears, the hissing of the wings, the fearsome
gesture of the grapnels outstretched and uplifted in the air. No
hostile demonstration in front of a Grey Locust or White-faced Decticus
could be more menacing.
For no reason that I can gather, two neighbours suddenly assume their
attitude of war. They turn their heads to right and left, provoking
each other, exchanging insulting glances. The “Puff! Puff!” of the
wings rubbed by the abdomen sounds the charge. When the duel is to be
limited to the first scratch received, without more serious
consequences, the lethal fore-arms, which are usually kept folded, open
like the leaves of a book and fall back sideways, encircling the long
bust. It is a superb pose, but less terrible than that adopted in a
fight to the death.
Then one of the grapnels, with a sudden spring, shoots out to its full
length and strikes the rival; it is no less abruptly withdrawn and
resumes the defensive. The adversary hits back. The fencing is rather
like that of two Cats boxing each other’s ears. At the first blood
drawn from her flabby paunch, or even before receiving the least wound,
one of the duellists confesses herself beaten and retires. The other
furls her battle-standard and goes off elsewhither to meditate the
capture of a Locust, keeping apparently calm, but ever ready to repeat
the quarrel.
Very often, events take a more tragic turn. At such times, the full
posture of the duels to the death is assumed. The murderous fore-arms
are unfolded and raised in the air. Woe to the vanquished! The other
seizes her in her vice and then and there proceeds to eat her,
beginning at the neck, of course. The loathsome feast takes place as
calmly as though it were a matter of crunching up a Grasshopper. The
diner enjoys her sister as she would a lawful dish; and those around do
not protest, being quite willing to do as much on the first occasion.
Oh, what savagery! Why, even Wolves are said not to eat one another.
The Mantis has no such scruples; she banquets off her fellows when
there is plenty of her favourite game, the Locust, around her. She
practises the equivalent of cannibalism, that hideous peculiarity of
man.
These aberrations, these child-bed cravings can reach an even more
revolting stage. Let us watch the pairing and, to avoid the disorder of
a crowd, let us isolate the couples under different covers. Each pair
shall have its own home, where none will come to disturb the wedding.
And let us not forget the provisions, with which we will keep them well
supplied, so that there may be no excuse of hunger.
It is near the end of August. The male, that slender swain, thinks the
moment propitious. He makes eyes at his strapping companion; he turns
his head in her direction; he bends his neck and throws out his chest.
His little pointed face wears an almost impassioned expression.
Motionless, in this posture, for a long time he contemplates the object
of his desire. She does not stir, is as though indifferent. The lover,
however, has caught a sign of acquiescence, a sign of which I do not
know the secret. He goes nearer; suddenly he spreads his wings, which
quiver with a convulsive tremor. That is his declaration. He rushes,
small as he is, upon the back of his corpulent companion, clings on as
best he can, steadies his hold. As a rule, the preliminaries last a
long time. At last, coupling takes place and is also long drawn out,
lasting sometimes for five or six hours.
Nothing worthy of attention happens between the two motionless
partners. They end by separating, but only to unite again in a more
intimate fashion. If the poor fellow is loved by his lady as the
vivifier of her ovaries, he is also loved as a piece of
highly-flavoured game. And, that same day, or at latest on the morrow,
he is seized by his spouse, who first gnaws his neck, in accordance
with precedent, and then eats him deliberately, by little mouthfuls,
leaving only the wings. Here we have no longer a case of jealousy in
the harem, but simply a depraved appetite.
I was curious to know what sort of reception a second male might expect
from a recently fertilized female. The result of my enquiry was
shocking. The Mantis, in many cases, is never sated with conjugal
raptures and banquets. After a rest that varies in length, whether the
eggs be laid or not, a second male is accepted and then devoured like
the first. A third succeeds him, performs his function in life, is
eaten and disappears. A fourth undergoes a like fate. In the course of
two weeks I thus see one and the same Mantis use up seven males. She
takes them all to her bosom and makes them all pay for the nuptial
ecstasy with their lives.
Orgies such as this are frequent, in varying degrees, though there are
exceptions. On very hot days, highly charged with electricity, they are
almost the general rule. At such times the Mantes are in a very
irritable mood. In the cages containing a large colony, the females
devour one another more than ever; in the cages containing separate
pairs, the males, after coupling, are more than ever treated as an
ordinary prey.
I should like to be able to say, in mitigation of these conjugal
atrocities, that the Mantis does not behave like this in a state of
liberty; that the male, after doing his duty, has time to get out of
the way, to make off, to escape from his terrible mistress, for in my
cages he is given a respite, lasting sometimes until next day. What
really occurs in the thickets I do not know, chance, a poor resource,
having never instructed me concerning the love-affairs of the Mantis
when at large. I can only go by what happens in the cages, where the
captives, enjoying plenty of sunshine and food and spacious quarters,
do not seem to suffer from homesickness in any way. What they do here
they must also do under normal conditions.
Well, what happens there utterly refutes the idea that the males are
given time to escape. I find, by themselves, a horrible couple engaged
as follows. The male, absorbed in the performance of his vital
functions, holds the female in a tight embrace. But the wretch has no
head; he has no neck; he has hardly a body. The other, with her muzzle
turned over her shoulder continues very placidly to gnaw what remains
of the gentle swain. And, all the time, that masculine stump, holding
on firmly, goes on with the business!
Love is stronger than death, men say. Taken literally, the aphorism has
never received a more brilliant confirmation. A headless creature, an
insect amputated down to the middle of the chest, a very corpse
persists in endeavouring to give life. It will not let go until the
abdomen, the seat of the procreative organs, is attacked.
Eating the lover after consummation of marriage, making a meal of the
exhausted dwarf, henceforth good for nothing, can be understood, to
some extent, in the insect world, which has no great scruples in
matters of sentiment; but gobbling him up during the act goes beyond
the wildest dreams of the most horrible imagination. I have seen it
done with my own eyes and have not yet recovered from my astonishment.
Was this one able to escape and get out of the way, caught as he was in
the midst of his duty? Certainly not. Hence we must infer that the
loves of the Mantis are tragic, quite as much as the Spider’s and
perhaps even more so. I admit that the restricted space inside the
cages favours the slaughter of the males; but the cause of these
massacres lies elsewhere.
Perhaps it is a relic of the palæozoic ages, when, in the carboniferous
period, the insect came into being as the result of monstrous amours.
The Orthoptera, to whom the Mantes belong, are the first-born of the
entomological world. Rough-hewn, incomplete in their transformation,
they roamed among the arborescent ferns and were already flourishing
when none of the insects with delicate metamorphoses, Butterflies,
Moths, Beetles, Flies and Bees, as yet existed. Manners were not gentle
in those days of passion eager to destroy in order to produce; and the
Mantes, a faint memory of the ghosts of old, might well continue the
amorous methods of a bygone age.
The habit of eating the males is customary among other members of the
Mantis family. I am indeed prepared to admit that it is general. The
little Grey Mantis, who looks so sweet and so peaceable in my cages,
never seeking a quarrel with her neighbours however crowded they may
be, bites into her male and feeds on him as fiercely as the Praying
Mantis herself. I wear myself out, scouring the country to procure the
indispensable complement to my gynæceum. No sooner is my
powerfully-winged and nimble prize introduced than, most often, he is
clawed and eaten up by one of those who no longer need his aid. Once
the ovaries are satisfied, the Mantes of both species abhor the male,
or rather look upon him as nothing better than a choice piece of
venison.