I knew it was going to happen but...
I told the kids I thought it was a girl mantis.
The other night we got home late and there were a couple skinny mantises with straight wings on the screen door. Boy mantises!
So... we put a boy mantis in with the girl mantis.
And then she bit off his head.
And ate him.
Now, I knew this was going to happen. At least I figured it was highly likely. I still feel guilty. Like a mantis killer. What did that poor guy do to deserve that? I felt horrible. And it was gruesome. He walked around headless while she ate his head. Not that he got very far. And then she ate the rest.
And I tell myself... if he found a girl friend in the wild, she'd have eaten his head, too. Or maybe he wouldn't have found a mate and when it got cold he'd just die with nothing to show for it.
I feel guilty every time I squish a spider, too. (Which isn't often... trust me.)
Something about certain creatures just makes them seem to have... personality or something.
I can butcher a chicken and I kill mice for my snakes every time I feed them. I am *not* squeamish.