House Centipede

Let me start this post by saying that I do not like House Centipedes! Unlike a lot of other bugs, I have no issues about killing ones that I find in my house, rather than releasing them outdoors - luckily, this doesn't happen very often. The House Centipede that I trapped for this post actually came from outside, so when I was done with it, I felt like I should release it back outside.

So like I said, I do not like these. This is despite how extremely beneficial their presence can be for human-built structures. All the entomologists keep trying to be like What's up, Brian? Why you gotta hate on a player? But I'm always just like Whatever! They nasty! And then they're always like Well that's just how they roll. And then we usually forget about all that and go get some fro-yo at the Pinkberry (where I'm all like I'll have the Fruity Pebbles, some brownie bits, ummmm some honey, do those chocolate-covered peanut butter pellets cost extra?).

When I first captured this female Scutigera coleoptrata, I was keeping her in a container with me while I did some chores under my back porch. We exchanged the occasional verbal barb and eyed each other mistrustingly while I went about my business. But within an hour of catching her, I found myself referring to her as Scuttles.

Now I don't want you to think that I've developed a soft spot for Scuttles or her kind, so I've assembled this list of 10 specific reasons that I find House Centipedes distasteful. I considered making it into a poem like Julia Stiles did for Heath Ledger in the '90s cinematic re-imagining of "The Taming of the Shrew." But it didn't flow very well (the poem from the movie, that is - I hope Miss Stiles got a D on that assignment).

10 things I (ostensibly) hate about Scuttles
1. Their fused body segments and 15 pairs (in adults) of long, thin legs that give them great acceleration and impressive linear speed (at the cost of maneuverability) also make them the only group of centipedes that can jump! However, the best I've ever seen would be better described as a hop - that's why I always recommend that House Centipedes finish their degree and have something to fall back on. They can also climb, hang and survive some pretty serious drops.

...the better to see you with, my dear!

2. They have compound eyes that give them impressive vision, compared to other centipedes. Most (all?) other groups of centipedes only have simple eyes that don't see much, or they've lost their eyes altogether and are completely blind (Santa brought them that Red Ryder, despite the warnings of mom, teacher and his boozy doppelganger at the mall). House Centipede eyes raise an interesting question considering that, despite being active hunters, their typical environs have little light, if any, and they mostly hunt by their sense of smell (through their antennae). That question, of course, would be jeepers, creepers - where did they get them peepers? It's been suggested that this group of centipedes may have branched off from other arthropods (many trilobites and crustaceans have very complex and powerful eyes) earlier than other groups and thus, retained their ancestors' peepers.

3. Centipedes' first pair of legs has been modified to form a strong pair of venomous pincers. Taken by itself, this seems like a strange and hard to come-by modification. But considering that the first pair of "legs" in male spiders (pedipalps) has been modified to contain their reproductive systems, they're at least in good company with other arthropods. Many centipedes have big enough pincers to bite people. But in centipedes, the pincers are called forcipules and they technically deliver more of a sting than a bite - but it's a double sting! It's like Jackie Chan in Fearless Hyena on one side, and Jackie Chan in Rumble in the Bronx on the other side - you just got Double-Chan'd! Although, seeing as how centipede bites are so rare, it might actually be more like Jackie's many, many uncredited roles from the early 70s.

4. Lack of the waxy cuticle present in most other terrestrial arthropods ("land bugs" just lacks the air of pretension necessary to effectively communicate esoteric subjects) and inability to close their spiracles (not unlike many morning news anchors' problems with closing their breathin'-holes) leads to difficulty in retaining moisture. This requires them to live in moist or humid areas (such as bathrooms, basements, under logs or, in Scuttles's case, beneath a raingutter splash-pad) to prevent dehydration. House Centipede lungs are visible dorsally, at the posterior of each tergite segment (you probably wouldn't have assumed I knew what I was talking about if I had just said the light-colored whos'a-what's-it's on their backs).

The Seafood Road Show runs every other Thursday...gross!

5. The House Centipede's front-to-back symmetry is a form of automimicry, or mimicking themselves. When they're standing still their automimicry makes it difficult to tell which end is their head and which is their tail. Automimicry is distinct from autosatire, which is when someone describes their reactions to you by reenacting their internal monologue (Oh, that's different then. Because at first I was like, "Oh my gosh, I do that constantly." But then you explained the thing that I'm constantly doing and I was like, "Oh, my bad - that's the thing that I'm constantly doing."). Just a quick FYI: automimicry is usually superior to autosatire as a means of camouflaging one's lack of self-confidence. The sense of unpredictability that automimicry gives observers of these carnivorous push-me/pull-yous is believed to be one of the underlying causes of arachnophobia. I obviously use that term loosely here...I've never heard of chilopodaphobia or scolopendraphobia - but why the hell not!? The unpredictability issue is also why some people are afraid of fluttery (buttery) moths. Also, all the long, spiny appendages (which touches on another underlying issue in arachnophobia) don't help, either. Incidentally, it's no coincidence that people tend to feel more affinity for jumping spiders than other spiders and their kin. Jumping spiders are often very fuzzy, which visually rounds out many of their sharp corners, and their two, very large anterior-medial eyes on their prominent and distinct heads give them a more recognizable (slightly mammalian) face - these impressions are further bolstered by their inquisitive nature and (slightly scary, when you think about it) intelligence. But that's a subject for another post!

6. House Centipedes are viscous predators with a ravenous appetite for other household nasties. Spiders, crickets, ants, roaches, termites, some wasps, and even bedbugs - all these things (many of which eat our houses or eat us) and many more are approved parts of the House Centipede diet. In fact, Weight Watchers gives such low point values for some of these pests that the House Centipede won't even bother to weigh them! On a side note, I ended up not having time to take pictures of Scuttles on the day I captured her - they're all from the following day. So, before setting her container in a dark spot near where I found her, I dropped a feeder bug in with her. Oh my, good lordy, sweet sassy-molassie, and a few other exclamations, let me tell you what: she must have been hungry, because that cricket didn't even land before she hopped on it. Further details of their meeting push the PG-13 rating (or T, for you gamers) that I try to maintain here, so I'll leave those to the photo gallery (lights...camera...Scuttles!). Let me just say that it got a little gruesome.

7. Scutigera coleoptrata is an invasive species in North & South America. They are originally from Mediterranean Europe and are believed to have arrived in Mexico or Central America something to the tune of 150 years ago. While researching, I came across this amusing quote from a 1902 report out of the US Department of Agriculture: ...often darting directly at inmates of the house, particularly women, evidently with a desire to conceal itself beneath their dresses, and thus creating much consternation. (Sorry to hear about the "consternation", ladies. I'm told that coffee and cigarettes can alleviate this.) Although I can't confirm this claim (my Victorian Era scullery maid's uniform having been on mothballs for quite some time), I do find this a little bit surprising because I've never known one to run towards me, rather than the other direction.

Pardon me, miss. But your gonopods are showing.

8. House Centipedes are loners (and not good dancers). The only time they ever seek out the company of other scutigerids is for a brief mating dance - it's not unlike a single do-si-do with brief antenna-to-leg contact and the exchange of meaningful glances (the whole thing is very Downton Abbey). After this, the male leaves his...let's say "business card" instead of spermatophore (PG-13!), on the ground and runs away. Another way to look at this interaction would be as frotteurism...which I suggest you look up from your highly monitored work computer <casting a class-5 absolution of liability spell!>. Unlike most of you single ladies, who probably wouldn't pick up the business card of a guy who danced awkwardly with you for all of 10 seconds, the female House Centipede lays her...let's say "items from her purse" instead of clutch of eggs, on the gentleman's business card. She delicately arranges her cell phone, lip gloss, a dried up tube of mascara from like two years ago, a depleted Metro farecard, and some hard candy that she was never going to eat anyway with her gonopods...single women have gonopods, right?

9. House Centipedes live for several years and go through several moltings, adding more legs each time, before they look like adults with all 15 pairs of legs. It takes about three years for one to reach maturity, and they've been observed to live as long as seven years total. Some predatory creatures look more or less like small adults as soon as they're born (most spiders, for example) and these creatures typically need to be able to get away from their parents quickly so that they aren't seen as a competitive threat or as food. Many other predators, especially ones with longer maturation periods or ones that live in confined spaces among their older relatives (it's not unusual for a House Centipede to live in the same house for its entire life) have a distinct appearance during childhood. This communicates to the grown folks that you're neither a threat, nor a good choice for a meal (think of kittens, puppies, cubs, kits and the grays for cats, dogs, tigers, foxes and Visitors, respectively). Young House Centipedes have big heads, few legs, and an adorable lack of coloration that make the terrifyingly swift adults coo over the plodding young of their species. The too-cute-to-eat-during-youth principle is a common one, but one notable exception exists in humans. When introduced to a baby, human females of child-bearing age are often heard threatening to just eat that baby right up, perhaps even wanting to start with their sweet little toes - ominous nom-ing sounds may then be heard (at that point, it's too late...another victim of 'nuggling).

10. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

My relationship with Scuttles went south once the rich centipede who wanted to date her sister let it slip about what all the pictures were for (I was a bet?! Just a stupid bet!...Oh wait, that was a different movie). Although I think that my hate list technically makes me the Julia Stiles in this scenario, I eventually released Scuttles into my lawn (not really the best place for her, but she'll manage). She needed to go because her dad had finally agreed to send her to Sarah Lawrence College (not really the best place for her, but she'll manage...manage a Hallmark Slightly-irregular Greeting Cards Outlet store with her expensive, private school, liberal arts BA - ba-dum, ching!).

That's all for this one, but don't forget to check out the new photo gallery for more pictures of Scuttles and bugs from previous posts!
Flickr:BugsIRL

I don't want to wait for our lives to be over, I want to know right now what it will be...
 - The 90s, featuring Paula Cole