On the final day of September I was inspecting the gardner’s work in our backyard. I noticed that he’d done an especially exquisite job with the lawn as we were heading into autumn. The roses could’ve used some help, but the lawn, it was verdant. Ending of my round, I noticed something else green along the ground.

Waddling over the rocks near the carport was a rotund, three-inch long praying mantis. Obviously in a family way and much too heavy to fly, she was making an ambitious six-legged scramble toward the sanctuary of the grapevine some eight feet away. Given there were three cats and a dog all within striking distance of her, the odds of this potentially expectant mother surviving the next 90 seconds were slim. So I intervened, and kept the animals at bay.

Now when a mantis is laden with a belly full of eggs, there’s no telling what their intentions truly are. Was she in a precoital mood and looking for a little love? Or had she already hooked-up with and canibalized the father of her future offspring and now needed to deposit her ootheca, or egg sac–somewhere, anywhere–before she popped. Regardless, she did have a hard time climbing the beefier lower branches of the vine, so I lent a hand and helped her onto (into?) it.

It’s hard to say if she was grateful for the assist, but before disappearing into the foliage she did cock her head my way, in that mechanical manner mantises move, as I took one last photo of her. Her way of saying “thanks” perhaps, but more likely wondering how I might taste.