Life at Kudjip: Rhino the Toe Beetle

There are a lot of bugs here. I suppose there are probably a lot of bugs everywhere, bugs seeming to be a nearly universal phenomenon. Perhaps there are fewer bugs in, say, Siberia, but I think most places actually occupied by sane people have bugs. (No offense, Siberians)

However, here in the tropics, I feel that we have more than our fair share of bugs. And our bugs seem to have more than their fare share of… size. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in Jurassic Park with the size of our bugs, ferns, etc. Rather than cute little fireflies buzzing around our house, we have GARGANTUAN CICADAS OF DOOM. They are seriously the size of medium-range bats. Also, they buzz loudly enough to drown out most of my less important thought processes. And they have a particular fondness for banging repeatedly into the metal siding of our house while I'm trying to go to sleep.

Forget the geckos keeping our bug population under control -- our bugs seem to be doing a pretty good job of keeping the gecko population in check. Which is sad, because while not being a sissy girl who screams at bugs, I still vastly prefer geckos to cicadas. I really don't like cicadas. Or cockroaches. Or the much smaller, but infinitely more annoying mosquito. Praying mantises are pretty cool though. They always make me think of Kung Fu Panda. I now always imagine that they are preparing for some cool kung fu move, with their crafty little bug-eyes and folded kung-fu-ready legs.

Morgan walked in the door this morning and informed me that there was a bug on his toe. Given the average size of our Average Joe Bug here in Giant Bug Land, I don't know why I expected a petite little buglet to be perching on my husband's toe, but I was. I was wrong. Instead, meet Rhino Beetle the Toe Bug:

Not as large as some rhino bugs I have seen, true, but still not really the cuddly friend that I, personally, would want wrapped around my toe. My husband seemed quite content with his new pet, however, and since rhino beetles do not stink, sting, bite, or fly (my main quarrels with other bugs), I did not protest.

Come to find out, rhino beetles do have one neat trick that can be a little surprising if you aren't expecting it: they hiss. Like, scary, loud, angry-cat hissing. Interesting.

Theron, being a normal 1-year-old boy, has quite the fascination with all forms of creeping, crawling critters. Also, anything that can break or that Mommy doesn't want him to play with, but that's beside the point right now. More to the point, he LOVED Rhino the Toe Bug with his creepy hissing trick.

Theron wanted one of his very own, but I, sadly, had to decline on the grounds of not being particularly keen on the idea of my toddler eating large crunchy hissing spiny bugs. And, as we all know, anything that Theron has, Theron eventually eats. Dirt, rocks, toys, dust bunnies, Mommy's chocolate that he stole off the desk while she was occupied with the baby. All that to say, Theron had to content himself with playing with Daddy's Toe Bug.

Fortunately, the hissing toe bug eventually was deposited outside, a sadder, wiser bug for it's brush with Toddlerdom. I don't think it will be latching on to any roaming toes in the near future, I think it has learned its lesson. We can hope.

Theron still wants a toe bug of his own. But we don't always get what we want, do we. For example, I want geckos who can conquer cicadas and rhino bugs and the world to be free of cockroaches and mosquitos forever. Oh well.