Millipedes
The oak-hickory
community is not just a world of turkeys and squirrels. While
leading a hike of naturalist wannabes along the trail, I keep my eyes
peeled for millipedes' black, shiny backs dotted with yellow or
red. Millipedes are common in our mature forests, where they live
a simple life of munching on decaying vegetation and minding their own
business. Until, that is, I come along to disrupt them.
“Aha!” I exult,
snatching up the little critter. My hikers draw around me,
intrigued, as I close my fist gently around the millipede and give it a
light shake or two. The traumatized arthropod curls up into a
ball to protect its soft underbelly, and when I open my hand it lies
still, playing dead.
“Now smell!” I
command, wafting the shaken millipede under each viewer’s nose.
“Oh!” they inevitably exclaim, as the scent of almonds or cherries
rises to their nostrils. I release the millipede (frightened but
unharmed) as I explain why it is so strongly scented.
We humans often
confuse millipedes with their more voracious relatives --- centipedes
--- but the two types of animals are actually miles apart.
Centipedes have flattened bodies with one pair of legs per body segment
while millipedes have rounded bodies with two pairs of legs per body
segment, but the cosmetic differences pale in comparison to the
lifestyle differences. Centipedes, like salamanders, are mighty
hunters of the forest floor, but unlike salamanders they paralyze their
prey with their poisoned bite. If I was an inch or less in
diameter, I would run as fast as I could when I saw a centipede coming.
Millipedes, on
the other hand, are gentle critters who would never hurt anyone.
All they crave is to be left alone to nibble on their rotting
plants. So, rather than wasting energy to create a poisoned bite,
millipedes save their poisons to deter predators. When a bird
swoops down to scoop a millipede off the forest floor, the millipede
emits cyanide, iodine, or quinine out of holes along its length.
These poisons, if aimed accurately into the bird’s eyes, will
temporarily blind the predator and give the millipede time to scurry
away. When I shook up my millipede (both literally and
figuratively), the frightened critter squirted out its poisons in hopes
of scaring me away. Since the chemicals only hit my skin, though,
they did no damage.
The bright
markings along the sides of the millipede are a warning to predators
(especially birds) to steer clear. After trying to eat one stinky
millipede, most birds learn their lesson and stay away from similar
looking critters in the future. I hope that my millipedes live
long and happy lives, burrowing amid the leaf litter and scaring away
birds ten times their size.
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