Point of View Sharman Apt Russell
THE ADORED, BUZZING AROUND US
Why we should pay more attention to insects
I
am fortunate to live in an area
where the stink bug, also called the
darkling, pinacate, or clown beetle, is
common. About an inch long, with a jet-
black carapace and long walking legs, the
stink bug is nothing out of the ordinary—
except when startled. Then the insect
bends its front legs, extends its rear legs,
raises its posterior almost vertically, and
emits a powerful odor. It is meant to be
the scariest headstand in the world.
A pinacate beetle can brighten my
day. I connect to something nonhuman
and am knocked happily out of myself.
Many of us have this experience when
we see a charismatic mammal like a
deer or bear, raccoon or moose. Birds
can have the same e=ect. Hawks, cranes,
ravens, hummingbirds—they give us a
thrill. They say: stop! look at how beautiful I am, how different from you. They
make us feel grateful for being on such
an interesting planet.
Insects can do this, too, if we shift our
attitude—and spatial perspective. Insects
are also wild creatures and have the
advantage of being everywhere. If you are
a lover of insects, you have many opportunities to love, and you will feel less
lonely and discouraged than if you have
chosen only to adore the vanishing
Siberian tiger or your local threatened
predator. You may become a connoisseur
of anthills—or intrigued by spiders. Even
the most familiar or seemingly insigni>-
cant insect can surprise you. (Viewed up
close—I promise—the oak treehopper
will make you gasp.)
Another beetle example (as the naturalist J.B.S. Haldane noted, God must have
had an inordinate fondness for beetles
since he made so many di=erent kinds):
Tiger beetles are often brightly patterned
and look like small jewels. An Australian
species is the fastest running insect in the
world, going nine kilometers per hour or
170 body lengths per second. After a successful chase, tiger beetles cover their victims in a corrosive liquid that begins the
process of digestion. Tiger beetle larvae are
equally ferocious; these white grubs have
horns on their backs, which they anchor to
the sides of their tunnels, allowing them to
lunge out and pull in prey with a single
powerful motion.
In their way, tiger beetles are as charismatic as their mammalian counterpart. In
their way. That’s the rub. The truth is that
insects usually inspire repulsion more
than admiration. They scurry away with
an unpleasant sound. They have disgusting eating habits. That compound eye
gives us the creeps. All those re?ections.
And all those legs! Mouthparts that drink
blood? Hairy distended abdomens? Not
before eating, please.
For most of us, insects are just too far
outside the human aesthetic—alien, brutal,
and uncuddly. This is also good. Because
this is nature, too. I have learned (
somewhat slowly) that if I want to have a relationship with the natural world, it can’t
just be with the parts I pick and choose.
The gorgeous mountain view makes my
lover’s heart ache. But I also have to
admire the rejuvenating aftermath of a
forest >re, as “ugly” a landscape as any on
Earth. I have to get to know the parts of
nature that make me wince and turn
away. Because turning away is not really
what good lovers do.
So I’m paying more attention to insects.
It usually requires getting down on my
knees, much lower to the ground. A new
perspective. And, inevitably, another beetle—this time, the giant North American
rhinoceros beetle, with its jaunty horn and
ability to lift its own weight hundreds of
times over! Right here on my front porch! I
feel that thrill of gratitude. I live on such an
interesting planet. a
Sharman Apt Russell is the author of
Standing in the Light: My Life as
a Pantheist and An Obsession
with Butter?ies.
