Seeing Praying Mantises

For a nine-year-old boy, the best part about Saturday morning Mandarin Chinese lessons in Parkway Village was knowing that the reward for enduring two hours of class was a wonderful adventure waiting across the street.  Where condominiums and fast food restaurants now stand there was once a wide open field of level ground which separated the United Nations International School from St. Nicholas of Tolentine, a local Catholic school.  At the end closer to UNIS a patch of wild grass formed a zone through which we crossed to reach the playing field beyond.  For most of the children there was no attraction to this area except the retrieval of an occasional errant ball.  For me however this was the setting for one of the most unforgettable experiences I would ever share with my father.  It was here that my father taught me how to see praying mantises.

You must first understand the important role played by insects in traditional Chinese art and philosophy.  Representing God's smallest creatures, insects are ever present in brush paintings, illustrating the universality of nature's principles. Among the most popular species depicted are grasshoppers and praying mantises, the latter epitomizing patience, the greatest of all Confucian virtues.

It must have been early September because by late summer the North American praying mantis (Stagmomantis Carolina) reaches maturity when its size renders it more easily detected.  After Chinese class my father took me across the street and together we walked into the tall grass.  My numerous insect books had informed me that the mantis survives by escaping detection and employs this unusual skill to avoid predators as well as ambush prey.  As we slowly made our way into the vegetation my father told me to examine the branches of each plant carefully, for patience was the necessary virtue in stalking this most invisible of creatures.  Presently he signaled a stop and announced that directly in front of us was the very object of our search.  I remember my excitement as my untrained eyes combed every leaf and stalk in vain.  Youthful impatience soon led to frustration and finally to capitulation.  My father then slowly extended his hand, palm upward, towards the closest plant.  To my amazement a slender green insect materialized and cautiously placed first one leg followed by another onto the outstretched hand until it came to rest entirely on its new perch.  After a few minutes of respectful inspection my father gently returned the mantis to its original location where only moments before it was quite invisible.

I will never forget what happened next.  As we stood there in the tall grass together, my father turned to me and said, "And so it is with life, my son.  Under the watchful gaze of many, we each see something different.  Only with patience and perseverance can we hope to see things for what they are."

The value of what I learned that day is beyond description.  Thanks to my father I have always looked for praying mantises.