I was recently pulling some weeds out of our Raspberry bed when I noticed this little fellow.

My first thought was…I wonder where the rest of his brothers and sisters are? 

Now, you might think that’s an odd first though upon seeing a praying mantis.  Maybe a sixth or a ninth thought, but certainly not a first one.  That might be because you don’t know how many baby praying mantises are in an egg sac.  But, I do know that.  And, I can tell you exactly why I know that tidbit of information.

Historically, we get one Christmas tree.  That’s probably not a shocking revelation.  It’s always seemed both sufficient and reasonable for our house.  We’ve also stumbled into a tradition over the last several years of cutting down our own Christmas tree at a local farm (I know, tree murder!) followed by a trip to an equally local brewery. If you know how easy it is to cut down a 7-foot tree, you’ll recognize this tradition for what it is – a reason to drink beer.

Regardless, December 2018 was no different.  We set out into the Christmas tree field, saw in hand, surrounded by the standard soundtrack (“is it Douglas or Frasier firs that we like?” “what in the world is a scotch pine?” “Sammy, don’t swing the saw like a baseball bat”).  It turns out, though, December 2018 was a little different.  

All the 6ft-7ft trees were really crappy – think Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  There were, however, a few smaller (5 foot ish) trees that looked pretty nice.  That left us in somewhat of a conundrum.  A 5-foot tree by itself didn’t seem to do the grandeur of Christmas justice.  But, some quick math told us that if we got two of them, we’d have 10 feet of glorious Christmas tree.

Decision made.  We cut, hauled, and loaded two lovely Christmas trees into our car, and we set off to finish the trip with some beers.  I don’t, however, recall the beer being particularly memorable.

Fast forward to December 23^rd.  I know it was that date, because I was watching Sunday night football, and I can read a calendar.  It was getting late. Katie had gone to bed and the game was wrapping up.  I stood up to let our dog out, turn off the lights (Christmas and standard) and head upstairs to bed.  As I was doing that, I noticed a small shadow on the wall by the tree.

That was strange, I thought, so I moved in for a closer look.  I turned on my phone flashlight, as was the custom at the time, and sure enough, it was a little baby praying mantis.  I’d never seen a baby praying mantis, but there was no denying it – the babies look exactly like the adults.

Just seconds after my brain processed that information, it also processed the fact that there were a lot more than just one on the wall. 

Bugs don’t bother me much, but my usual problem-solving method of ‘just leave it until it isn’t a problem anymore’ didn’t seem like it would work in this situation.  So, I grabbed a piece of paper and a plastic cup, and I started scooping baby praying mantises (manti?) into the cup – 5 or 6 at a time – and tossing them out the back door.

Editors note – I actually left some in our house plants (never told Katie).  I like to think that somewhere amongst the brick, wood and drywall of our house, there’s a thriving, secret community of praying mantises (Ratatouille-style).

Now, even at the time, I recognized the ruthlessness of just tossing babies into the freezing cold with very little chance of survival.  However, I didn’t have much chance to mull that one over, because right then, Katie came downstairs.  Hooray, help had arrived.

Wrong.  I was on the business end of a withering glare and stern chastising.  “Where have you been?”  “Your son is upstairs throwing up, and you’re down here watching football and drinking beer?”  “Could you be any worse?”  “Here are some vomit-covered sheets – do something with them.”

I can’t be sure, but at that point, I think Katie started wondering why I was standing by the open back door holding a plastic cup and a piece of paper.  I explained the situation, but I don’t think it totally sunk in – she was still neck deep in a code green (sick kid in the middle of the night).

So, praying mantises weren’t the only plague to befall our house that night.  Bummer.  I’ll be honest, that left me in a bit of a sour mood.  It also led me to Google how many praying mantises are in an egg sac (you know, to set expectations).  At that point, I estimated I’d thrown 40-50 of those helpless little creatures out to their death in the bitter cold.

It turns out, praying mantis egg sacs can have up to 200 babies in each one.  Now, you know that fact as well.

Time for the nuclear option.  I took the breakable ornaments off the tree and with one angry windup and throw, I got the tree stuck halfway out the door.  Not ideal.  I’m sure that created a praying-mantis cluster-bomb type effect all around me. 

Trees weren’t really designed to go out doors top first.  But, a few more angry kicks and elbows jettisoned the tree from the house along with a good amount of the paint from the door frame.  I then tossed the tree two or three more times just to show it who was boss.

By 1:30 am, the situation – at least the praying mantis situation – was under control.

So, to summarize, we had a sick kid who would ultimately give Katie the stomach bug causing them both to miss my family’s Christmas celebration, a living room that held somewhere between zero and a lot of praying mantises, a half-decorated Christmas tree (still in the water stand) laying on the back patio and two spouses unimpressed with their other halves’ efforts in their time of need.

I’m not an English major.  I don’t know if every story needs a moral.  This one, however, seems exceedingly clear.  If you’re going to cut your own Christmas tree, don’t get two.  All you’re doing is doubling your chances of acquiring a soon-to-hatch praying mantis egg sac.