Saturday, August 11, 2012

The other day, I was out back, trying to get better cell phone reception, when I spotted a darling bright green praying mantis on the end table beside me.  He was gearing up to make a leap to the chair on the other side of that table. 

I watched as he gauged his distance, made mock trial jumps, stopped, readjusted, and then tried again.  Over and over this process played out with my dogs, Sadie and Foster, watching with as much rapt fascination as I had.  Course, they were probably hoping the poor little praying mantis would miss his mark so they could pounce on him, while I was rooting for his success. 

Took several minutes that seemed to drag into forever, but the praying mantis finally summoned enough courage to make his leap….  He was successful, landing with exact precision on the nearby chair.  Triumphant in his victory, he strutted his stuff to the highest point of the chair back and took in his surrounds.  Sadie and Foster, disappointed at their missed opportunity, walked away to find some other form of entertainment.

A short time later, as day gave way to dusk, the sky transforming to a bruised pallet, a fruit bat swooped down from his perch in a nearby tree to drink from my pool.  Watching his awkward yet graceful wobbly fluttering, I smiled.  When he dipped his tiny tongue to sip water, I found myself mesmerized by the outward spreading ringlets that he created.  The bat took three more drinks before deciding he’d had enough and flew off to hunt for dinner.

Sitting there after the bat and praying mantis had gone, I found myself giving thanks for being privilege to such wonderful sightings.  I’m aware that many never get to see what I just had.  Not that bats and praying mantis don’t exist all over.  They do.  But in some places, they feel more inclined to stay hidden from onlookers.