True Facts: The Science of the Praying Mantis

This episode's sponsored by Brilliant. When they first emerge from the nursery that their mother built, mantids don't look like much. Sort of a booger-but-ribbed-for-pleasure vibe. Not all that intimidating at this point, are they? Now, the first order of business is to wriggle out of a tight cocktail dress sort of membrane that surrounds them. And as they do, you can start to see their legs and their antennae. You know, getting those antennae out, that's a real b****. That membrane she was in is attached to the inside of the egg case Some foresight there. Because this little baby can use it to climb down. Of course, she's not alone. She's got some siblings up in there. And pretty soon, there's a whole mess of them hanging by their butts like anatomically correct Spider-Men. And women. When they finally get down from the ropes course, the world is a bit stacked against them. I mean, they're barely a thing at this point. You can see right through them. The outside bits probably don't even have that much of a crunch. And to make matters worse, there isn't that much of a sibling bond going on. Around the same time that you and I were swaddled up and sucking on a tit, these ones are surrounded by cannibals. Look at this one. He's pulling on his own leg to get away from that ass-biter. Now, if they survive that gauntlet, they have to get themselves to some food and shelter. But at this stage, they don't have their wings. They can, however, jump. And they're damn good at it, too. Look at this one mugging for the camera. Shameless. It's not about you. They can even push off smooth surfaces like glass because they have these little toe pads for extra grippage. Because they're pushing off with their back legs, their bodies rotate in the air. But they can stabilize this with their po- Really, Jerry? Yes, I want you to change it. All right. They can modify their posture mid-air to line up with a target. These mantid nymphs will have to go through a series of molts before they reach adulthood. And it's in that final molt. God, that's a terrible word. Molt. Anyway, it's in the final one that they get their wings, as well as functioning naughty bits. It's a pretty exciting day. I'm sure it beats finding your first pubic hair. That was pretty exciting. Now, they don't all come out the oven looking like this. You know, this one's a bit vanilla or mint, I guess. But mantids come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. You'll notice that most of them go for a sort of camouflage situation. Now, this hidey-hidey business is important. Not only because there's birds out there with bad intentions, but also because mantids are ambush hunters. Now, I don't know how much ambushing you've done, but it works a lot better if they can't see you. If they can, it gets awkward. How come you're crouching behind the water cooler sort of deal? Now, depending on where they live, they've evolved to blend into all sorts of things. Cherry, is there... There's not one in this shot. No, it doesn't underscore the point. Anyway, they've evolved to blend into a bunch of things. See, now my rhythm's off. Sure, you got some slackers that didn't put much effort into it. I mean, being long and green is sort of straight out of Hiding in Nature 101. But you can see that selection has a way of pushing you towards some of the details. This one picked up some of that reddish fringe. Look at the back end on this one. You'll see some stripes that are just around the right distance. And here you got... What is that, a leopard print? Good blend into brunch at the yacht club. A number of others went for stick. It's a bit Captain Obvious, if you ask me. I mean, they're not obvious. That's the whole point, but you know what I'm saying. But for my money, it's the ones that went for leaf that you want to take the lessons from. Especially the dead ones. It's a lot of edging. You gotta get your crimping iron out. But if you want the Oscar, it's all about method acting. They lean into it, literally. Get their sway on. What's that, mommy? Is it dangerous? Oh no, that's just a leaf dangling in the wind. Can I touch it? You know, and then you're giving away size small clothing at the yard sale. All right, that's dark. A lot of this sort of camouflage is about blending into the clutter. Ragged edges and mottled coloration. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be kind of messy in the right way. There are, however, mantids that have evolved to look like things that are fairly specific. Like some mantid nymphs that seem to mimic a specific species of ant. It's the attitude that gives them away, though. This one's ready to fight the whole f***ing world. For a long time, it was assumed that orchid mantises were mimicking specific species of orchids. Makes sense, right? Look just like a flower, hide amongst them, and then eat things that come to pollinate them. Of course, the science hippies had to come in and say it was more complicated. It's a bummer. That bulls*** is so much easier to understand. So anyways, here's the deal. The orchid mantis gets into the whole deception thing fairly young. When they're babies, they're tiny. So tiny that ants prey on them. See that little red thing under the leaf? That's one getting chased right there. The red and black bodysuit is assumed to mimic an assassin bug. You can probably trick a couple ants that way. The dumb ones. After the first molt... Oh, sounds like you're trying to deep-throat a cue ball. Molt? Anyway, they change color and start getting that flower vibe. They also start to develop these petal-shaped lobes on the back two pair of legs. Sort of like fake glutes. The thought was that this was to trick pollinators into thinking they were an orchid, which they would hide amongst. Now to our eyes, that seems plausible. But insects see the world different. And to a bee, the orchid mantis doesn't necessarily read orchid. But it does look like a flower to die for. Sorry. The pigment that gives the mantis its color absorbs UV light, just like many flowers do. And to pollinators, this makes it pop out from the background. The mantis also seems to emit some chemical cues. And all of this works so well that many pollinators prefer the mantis over real flowers. So instead of mimicking a specific flower, they seem to have hacked their prey's sensory systems to become a thing that just sort of exudes flowerness. But what about those flower petals they have on their legs? That seems fairly specific. There's a reason I've been going on about Brilliant for years now. It's because Brilliant helps you become a better thinker and problem solver in a fun, engaging way. 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It's not easy to find a sponsor you believe in, and Brilliant's that for me. Go check them out today. Where were we? Oh, right. So if orchid mantises don't really look like orchids to their prey, then why bother with the fancy petal-shaped leglobes? The science hippies looked into that too. Built a model mantis out of clay that the pollinators were just as attracted to. I mean, at this point, you gotta start wondering about these pollinators. But this allowed them to move those leglobes around or remove them altogether. And it turns out they don't really matter that much, at least not the pollinators. But they do seem to have another function. The juvenile mantises may not have wings, but they can use those lobes to glide. In fact, they're the best-known gliding arthropod. Sort of a niche awards category. And it seems like those leglobes may have evolved for that function first. Now, some other mantises evolve lobes on their front legs. Not for gliding, but so they can do these karate-chop dance moves. And they do these when they're about to get their ass kicked. Now, to a predator, this sort of thing is probably just straight-up confusing. But if they do get attacked, these lobes can act as decoys. You can see that other mantis goes for the lobe, not the body. And you'd rather get a scratch on your arm than your head bit. And that's the thing. Under pressure, a lot of mantises don't just tuck tail and run. They get big, stand their ground. And on the other side of that camo, some of them have some fancy ---- going on. You know how, like, some rich people have those red-soled shoes to warn you that they might be toxic? These startle displays are used to confuse a predator. Make them pause for a second and wonder just who it is they're f***ing with. Now, you're probably wondering how well it works. And I'll let you know how this scene plays out in a minute. But you'll notice that this one's sort of swaying back and forth. It's not just to look cray-cray. It also has to do with how mantises perceive depth. Just by moving their head, even with a single eye, they can use something called parallax. The idea here is that as you move, things closer to you move more than things farther away. Here, we'll track the tips of these two leaves. You know something's closer to you because it appears to move a lot more than the stuff behind it. Another way to judge depth is pretty straightforward, literally. It's called looming. That's when an object appears to get bigger in your visual field fairly quickly. You don't need a ton of fancy calculations to know you're about to get hit in the face. But mantises have another trick. And for that, it's worth a refresher on how we perceive depth. We use something called stereopsis. Because our eyes are a few inches apart, the image that's projected onto the back of each eye is slightly different. You know this because when you were bored as hell as a child, you'd focus on an object, then alternate which eye was open, and watch things that were in front or back of that object shift. Listen, I grew up in the 80s. That's what we did. What our big fancy brain does is take these two different images and essentially move them over each other to find areas of matching brightness. The more it has to shift these images to match an object, the closer that object is. The brightness of that object in each eye has to be roughly the same, though. If you put on special glasses that reverse the brightness in one eye, even though the shapes are the same, we could no longer compute the depth. Our brains are constantly doing this brightness matching, and it's a heavy lift. Insects and their tiny brains, by and large, don't do this. Their eyes also see two slightly different images, but their brains don't really match them up. But mantises seem to be unique among insects in that they do something similar to what we do, and it comes in handy when they want to eat one of those little green burritos there. Perthwap! Instead of matching up brightness in each eye, they match up areas where there's motion. Doesn't even have to look the same in each eye. Just has to move. Swappa! They know this because they put little 3D glasses on mantises. With wax, they come off. That way, they can control what each eye sees. Like one eye could only see the red dot, and the other eye could only see the blue one. If we wore the glasses, this would be like a crappy 3D movie, with a single purplish dot that would appear to float. But because it's standing still, the mantis most likely doesn't experience this as having depth. But once those dots start moving, the mantis system turns on. Now with those glasses, it's all 3D. And when it appears to be in the sweet spot about two and a half centimeters away, they strike. So those little mantis brains don't have to calculate all the time. Only when it counts. Now in terms of mantid strikes, I told you that we'd follow up on this scenario. Oh, all right. Well, that didn't play out like I thought it would. But listen, you should know. Lizards and mantids have beef, and it starts in childhood. Back then, the lizards, they're like bullies on the playground. I mean, the stakes are a bit higher, but you can see it's not exactly a fair fight. But by the time that the mantis hits puberty, it's a different story. Look at that. He's found his swagger. Not sure that shaking your ass has ever looked so intimidating. That lizard's having some second thoughts, isn't he? And then by the time they're full grown, I mean, it's a f***ing mantis the size of you. And I'm sure in this situation, you do the same thing that the lizard does. Run away! Now you can see that this lizard here had a bit more bravado. And the technique, by the way. You'll notice that it went right for its head. It's like fighting a zombie. You gotta take out the brain. Because here's what happens when you don't. Now this is a little unusual. Because you see that the mantis used the tip of its leg to pierce through the eye of the lizard. Normally, the mantis strike is much more grabby-grabby. I'm sure you've seen it. Sort of starts off in a reverse boxer pose. The front part of the leg, the tibia, is folded back against the femur. And by the way, this right here is what happens when you cut funding. The science hippies can't even afford the real flowers. Gotta go down to the Dollar General in their home decor section. Whoops! Now inside those legs, they're all Popeye. Filled with these bulky muscles. When they're in this cock pose, they build up a little tension. And then if something gets in their strike zone, the whole thing goes off in two stages. Oh jeez. Jerry, can you get one that's not an idiot? In the first stage, they kick the whole thing out. Sending the front part of the legs just beyond the prey. Then the flexors kick in, putting the brakes on that movement. And snapping the tibia back towards the femur. Trapping the prey between those two rows of spines. Because these movements are controlled by muscles and not a spring, for example. The movements are quite precise and can be adjusted for the size of the prey and its speed. They're not perfect. I mean, you try kicking out and catching something behind your knee. But they've got a don't quit attitude and they'll do it again until they get it right. Now there is this one newly discovered species in Peru that seems to do it a bit different. The front of their leg is evolved into a sort of fork. A combat fork with serrated tines. And they use this to directly stab insects instead of grabbing them. Look at how proud of herself this one looks. Now if you mix all this weaponry with that built-in mantis aggression, you could imagine that making babies can get a bit intense. In most cases, the female is larger. So you definitely want to wait till she's ready. And luckily, she makes that pretty clear. She's got a gland in her abdomen that releases some let's-get-busy stank. Now in many species, you can't see it. But you can see this sort of drop-that-ass pose that she assumes. I mean, she's upside down. So it's more of a lifting butt. Sorry, more of a lifting butt. The female Stenophylla lobivertex has a very prominent gland. Pops right out and wafts its beguiling pheromones. Now the male's antennae are packed with these little sensory hairs that can pick up on those cues. When he does do, it's usually best to approach with a bit of caution. You've seen what happens when things appear in their strike zone. Now there are exceptions. The male Springbok mantis is a bit short on patience. He goes right in and makes a wrestling match out of it. It's a bit of a questionable tactic. About half the males are dead before they even get a chance to mate. When the female often gets injured, the whole thing's a mess. In most species, the males have more chill. You know, play it cool until you're close enough and on the right side of those grabbers. Then you make your move. From here, it's a bit of a make-sure-you-bring-the-manual sort of sex. Because the female has a genital plate that needs to be pried open. Typical male, he's got a whole bunch of tools for the job. There's a hook for the prying and then another doodad to hold it open. The males typically approach from the right and dress to the left, as the tailors say. And as you can imagine, the whole thing often takes some doing. Once it's all in place, the transfer of his sperm to her spermatheca can take between 20 minutes and 6 hours, depending on... Well, you know how it goes. Might be thinking about work or the cat jumps on the bed. Now most of the time, for most species, the male walks away just fine. Sure, once in a while, she's hungry. We've all been there and door dash takes forever. Mommy, do you remember Daddy? Sure, he was delicious. Great looking. Now the female sort of pockets that sperm and can use it a few times. I mean, you can't blame her. Who wants to go through all that every time you want to make a baby? But when she's ready, she lays down a frothy substance. A bit like spray foam insulation, which later hardens into an ootheca. A casing in which she'll lay all her future little badasses. And that, my lovies, is how the mantis do. And that's the thing that no one tells you about eating butterfly. I mean, sure, they're delicious, but they're like the Ritz cracker of the insect world. You end up with crumbs all over you. It's like a second meal getting that ---- off.