Insects on Parade

I spotted a praying mantis in my backyard today. Big and green and slow and seemingly not having a care in the world; I could easily have captured it and put it in a jar. I let it be, of course—the beauty of some creatures demand they be left alone. But I did think about building her a little altar in my ivy topiary so she would have something on which to pray. (I know, I know, there is a joke here about pray/prey but I think not, my dear; it being way too obvious.) But she doesn’t need my altar; she can take care of herself…it’s the aphids that need an emergency warning system because to a praying mantis they are hors d’oeuvres, soup, salad and the main course (this is true in all mantis households and I have this on good authority). I do love the praying mantis because they are so beautiful and useful but, even though I have a soft spot for dragonflies and might waffle in their favor, I think probably my very favorite is the ladybug.

They just seem so damn nice, don’t they? And cute! Dragonflies are all wings and glitz and don’t really have much personality and they won’t crawl on you fearlessly like a ladybug will.

Did you notice how I became gender specific regarding these insects? She. I referred to them as “she.” In the animated film A Bug’s Life (from Pixar) the ladybug was male; however, being a Lady Bug pretty much ruined his life because the entire insect world thought of him as female no matter how vociferously he protested. It didn’t help that his name was Francis. Pixar, being the sweethearts they are, eventually let him come to terms with his feminine side.

It seems like I grew up with ladybugs and was never in the least tempted to treat them with anything but affection. I would put one on my finger and merrily sing the “Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home…” song, and twirl like a mad child until it took off. I think you were supposed to count until it flew away; I don’t remember why. Even now, when I encounter one of these cutie pies I’m filled with affection, and this summer there seemed to be quite a few flittin’ around the beach.

Doing a little research I’ve discovered that I didn’t quite have the correct wordage to the nursery rhyme. Here’s what I remember chanting as a child:

Lady Bug! Lady Bug! Fly away home,
Your house is on fire and your children will burn.

Pretty rough stuff, huh? According to Mother Goose and Father Google it goes like this:

Lady Bug! Lady Bug! Fly away home,
Your house is on fire, and your children are gone.

Is this really true or are we now being politically correct? Anyway, the next refrain gets personal:

All except one, and that’s little Ann,
For she crept under the frying pan.

That part is news to me, until this very night. My mother, being a bit kinder than your typical Goose, taught it to me this way:

All except one, and that’s little John,
Saved from the fire by the pool on the lawn.

Is it any wonder I’m a sucker for ladybugs?