Millipede Striding

A phone conversation was being finished at about 8 p.m., and we were going through the gradual winding down that Americans tend to consider polite and friendly.  At that moment, I saw something that I knew what it was and where it came from, but you know how you look five seconds longer to ascertain that yes indeedy, this is what it is.

Traveling calmly on an outing, one of the four inch long millipedes skadoodled forward onto the area rug in front of the couch.  I saw the animal going along in wavy strides, not a foot away from me.  I had to look twice, and then noticed Kai and Snowbelle sitting up straight and watching the hundreds of legs ambulating.  Millipedes give off a toxin as tiny beads of liquid along their sides, and maybe this is what kept the cats from enjoying a crunchy snack.   They were attentive but no predatory signs given, no crouching or slashing tails; the arthropod was uninterrupted.  But how the heck did it get from the kitchen, and by some small god's grace, end up in front of me to be rescued?

The busy thing had to first escape over the side of the plastic tub, drop down to the floor about four feet, and then walk the equivalent of twenty-five bug miles to get through the hall and into the living area.  Any other place, and it would be like traversing the dark brown linoleum desert, inhabited by giant annoyances with curious paws.  But since this is a dark brown animal, the camouflage was perfect.  Still, there would have been no rescue if it had not appeared like just another family member coming into the living room to situate themselves on the couch, and pass the cheese and crackers, please.  How ya doon?

I yelped, explained to my friend that excuse me please, one of the millipedes got out; I surprised it so badly that it curled around my finger in a knot and hung on for dear life.  Don't bite me, don't bite me, don't bite me I chanted, even though the bite of this species is little more than a tiny nip and yes, one got me before.  At the time I had thought, are you biting me? and watched a determined, angry head latch into my palm.  Hey this isn't bad, I figured, and thank goodness, for it was in front of my class.  No student had to catch a falling teacher or call 911.

This one was an active coil of muscle, and wouldn't let go, having to be shaken (gently) off.  Some fresh lettuce leaves were put into the not-a-bug-arium, which were eaten overnight.  I like these critters, they move elegantly, are relatively curious and open to handling.  The only problem is that they're nocturnal, therefore the 8 o'clock walk around town.  Even more interesting, they're crustaceans.

                                            Yup, that's the size of them.  Pretty neat, huh?

The temperatures are mild compared to what was, the snow has receded, and many parts of the city are flooded with the runoff and swelling cricks.  It will freeze again, as predictions take the temperatures down to 21 degrees; no doubt that this was a hard winter.  But do you feel the changes, gradual as they are?  Nearing the end of February; in six more days we will be in March, filled with winds, ice storms, and more snow; yet it won't be the Arctic snap that bared the landscape of every living thing at its worst.

Think of spring, the equinox, planting seeds and sharpening mower blades; of fresh winds carrying the song of returning growth.  Have done with the chores of the present and walk silently in dreams; listen for robins calling, the crack of shifting ice that sounds like a rifle shot.  Even the night stirs with movement as warmer currents flow over hills, blowing away detritus and pulling shoots from soil, tiny points of green unfolding night and day.  Rest, now, drop gratefully into softness and slide into the layers of sleep, each with its own purpose.  What truths become visible when we dream?  Good night, traveller.