coming in on a wing and a prayer

Jennifer Rose claims she can tell when I am bored.

She has told me (and, I think, she believes it) that I write about insects whenever I need to break out of tedium.

She is wrong. At least, she is partly wrong. I write about insects because they fascinate me. Obviously, more than they fascinate Jennifer.

When we last talked about her disbelief that I am infatuated with insects, I thought of Anne Lamott's description of faith.

My friends like to tell each other that I am not really a born-again Christian. They think of me more along the lines of that old Jonathan Miller routine, when he said, "I'm not really a Jew; I'm Jew-ish." They think I am Christian-ish. But I'm not. I'm just a bad Christian. A bad, born-again Christian. And certainly, like the apostle Peter, I am capable of denying it, of presenting myself as a sort of leftist liberation theology enthusiast and general Jesusy bon vivant.

Insects have topped my list of interests since I was a young lad wandering the coastal hills of southern Oregon. And Mexico has provided me with a parade of insects I have never seen.

Take the guy at the top of this post. I found him attempting to stay afloat in my pool. Rather than let him Jack Dawson, I fished him out with the nearest life-saving device. A can of Raid. And, no, the irony of using an insecticide to save an insects life did not escape me.

What did escape me was a name for this creature. Even though the variety of beetles is staggering, you would think that an amateur entomologist would be able to identify the beetle solely by its proboscis. Jimmy Durante beetle is tempting, but I knew it was a non-starter.

The best I could do with my reference books was an agave weevil. It clearly is a weevil -- with that nose. And the agave weevil is a common pest here in Mexico, where it targets the blue agave that is used in distilling tequila.

There is only one problem. The agave beetle grows no larger than just under an inch. And, unless this guy has an overactive pituitary, he is not an agave weevil. He was about three inches long.

So, I throw the floor open to you. I long ago discovered Mexpatriate readers are a wealth of information. Do you know the name of the beetle?

Speaking of insects with large populations, I thought I would share this photograph with you, as well.

I made a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch last week and took it to the patio to eat my lunch. Somewhere between the kitchen and sitting down, a small piece of cheese must have escaped from the sandwich.

This is what I found the next day.

Ants are an amazing organism. Even though they are individuals creatures, they instinctively act in concert to feed their nests. I always imagine that tiny motivational posters plaster the walls at the exits of their tunnels -- urging them on for the day: "It weighs 100 times more than you. But you can do it."

The ants attempting to move this piece of cheese, or, at least, to carve it up into pieces that can be carried, had no doubt this food windfall could be claimed. And they were correct. By the next day, the cheese was gone.

There is probably a moral in the story of the ants and the beetle. But Solomon has already provided as much as needs be said about the wisdom of ants. And, as for the beetle, he was probably more Ringo Starr than John Lennon.

Jennifer, here you go. I am not bored and I have just shared two more insect tales.

I am not quite certain what that means, but not everything has to have an ending -- happy or not.