Come At Me - Day 308 - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Praying Mantis – Photo: L. Weikel

Come At Me!

This is Sheila, my Boston Terrier’s, favorite time of year. Why? Because she delights in the opportunity to indulge in a diet of crunchy greens, and for a few days (perhaps a week?) each year, there are an abundance of such ‘crunchy greens’ just waiting for her to discover them.

Young Love Gone Wrong

I know, it’s unseemly to make light of the grievous massacre that occurs each and every year at this time.

I’m actually not sure if it’s a ritualistic ‘crossing of the road’ that drives this species specifically at this time of year to cross the road in droves – consequently getting smooshed in droves by oblivious human drivers.

Or is it the heady euphoria (pun intended) of mating with one’s beloved, knowing deep down inside that once your primal urge to pass along your genetic material is sated, you will literally get your head bitten off by your partner in gratitude for your winged passion?

Roadkill Buffet

Whatever the cause, Sheila is delighted to offer her services as canine cleanup crew.

No kidding, it probably took us 15 minutes longer than usual to get around the circuit (the walk around – 2.2 miles) precisely because Sheila was busy prying up dead bodies from the macadam surface and relishing her favorite annual delicacy: Praying Mantis (PM).

Honestly, it was tragic how many Praying Mantises did not make it from one side of the road to the other.

One, however, was entirely affronted when Spartacus (Sheila’s enthusiastic son, who actually doesn’t care for the taste of Praying Mantises and would much rather prefer a random crushed hickory nut) ran up to it to determine whether or not it was alive.

BACK OFF! – or – Come At Me!*

Indeed, it was very much alive, thank you, not only whirring its wings at him in indignation, but also ‘putting up its dukes’ in a bellicose and authentically pugnacious attitude. Not having a taste for PM to start with, and not necessarily looking for a fight with anything for a second thing, Spartacus was easily swayed to leave it the heck alone. (*This is a ‘PG’ translation of my perception of just what that PM was saying to Spartacus when he went up to it and sniffed it.)

I immediately took its photo, trying to capture the indignation.

Of course, as I stood there, no fewer than three automobiles came through and passed us. The fact that we were seeing untoward carnage as we walked, necessitated I break my usual rule of non-interference. So after nudging the Praying Mantis failed to get it to move to the side of the road, I decided to gently grab one of its wings to toss it into the grass beside the road.

Aiding and Abetting Survival

This effort seemed to work well enough to at least save this one, very full-bellied, Praying Mantis. (I only noticed the girth of its abdomen when it landed almost upside down in the tall grasses beside the road.) I’m hoping it was a female, so I can imagine having saved millions of nymphs.

Anyway, since the primary lesson of Praying Mantis is ‘stillness,’ I’m going to close this post out and find some stillness myself – with my head on my pillow.

While the Circle of Life can be harsh, I at least took some comfort in Sheila’s exuberant appreciation of these “Zen Mantises.” (You know, the ones that were “one with the road.”)

Not everyone who aims to cross the road makes it to the other side. But at least there’s a lovable Boston Terrier willing to run cleanup on Tory Road.