There are days in a tropical garden when you realise the ecosystem has been quietly getting on with things entirely without your input. We just had one of those days.
It started with the ants.
We’d been quietly surprised, since moving in, by how few ants had made it into the house despite our less-than-military approach to crumbs and spillages. The garden clearly had them – you don’t live in tropical Thailand without ants – but they’d largely stayed outside minding their own business. If you’ve been following along, you’ll know this fits perfectly into our ‘you leave us alone, we’ll appreciate the beauty of nature and leave you alone philosophy’
Earlier that morning, out on a run… well slow jog – even jogging in 30 degree heat is no joke, something else had caught my eye. A large beetle, lying on the road was crawling with ants dragging it off to wherever they go – to do whatever they do (best not to think about it). Didn’t take a photo of that as was too busy trying not to die from the jog but wasn’t going to miss out when an opportunity presented itself on our veranda. Not really the sort of morbid photo I like to take but we’ve had issues with ants during our stay in Malaysia so we are on the lookout and intend to write a guide at some point.
Later that morning, I randomly peered out of the window as some of the avian wildlife were having a noisy squabble (you can’t choose your neighbours) and noticed something on the veranda.
Batty in hand, I went to investigate.
Even before getting to the unknown thing, I was confronted by an upside down beetle. A Parheminodes pulcher, as it turns out, native to Southeast Asia, and one of those creatures that makes you wonder why anyone needs to go to a jewellery shop when something this ornate is just wandering around the garden. Iridescent blue body, vivid orange-red thorax, entirely unbothered by the concept of being subtle.
It was upside down, which seemed undignified given the circumstances, so I gave it a gentle nudge with a sandal to right it. This turned out to be the beginning of a relationship it was considerably more invested in than I was.
It clung on. I shook the sandal gently. It clung on harder. I shook it less gently. Still clinging. At this point I was standing on one foot, waving the other sandal around in a manner that, in retrospect, may have appeared like I was waving for help. Or trying to fight off an invisible (mosquito) foe. Quite possible I’ve done both in the past and the neighbours are used to my antics so I don’t feel too bad about it (guess the neighbours can’t choose their neighbours either). The beetle held firm with the quiet determination of something that had decided this sandal was home or possibly more concerning, something to be amorous with… and this was non-debatable.
Eventually, after some patient prising, it took flight. I wished it a happy journey and long life.
Approximately two seconds later, it seemed to change its mind and belly flopped into the ground between the unknown mass and me.
Where was I? Oh yes, the unknown mass (although it’s probably not that much of an unknown now) – a small cluster of what appeared to be the remains of something – too far gone to identify with any confidence, and frankly we weren’t going to try – had attracted a full ant response. Dozens of tiny reddish ants, working with the kind of focused collective efficiency that makes you simultaneously impressed and slightly uneasy. Nature’s clean-up crew, doing exactly what nature’s clean-up crew was intended to do. We took a photo and left them to it.
I know you’re just dying to know what happened to our colourful beetle friend and I would dearly like to tell you. Unfortunately I’m not sure, I left it where it was – it didn’t seem bothered and the ants didn’t seem interested in it so I left nature to take its course. I guess some friendships have a natural endpoint.
An unusual spider appeared a day or so later – on the door this time, doing that thing that spiders do where they turn to face you directly and hold eye contact for slightly longer than feels normal (but not as cute as when a jumping spider does it). This one was a good size, pale with dark markings. Beneficial either way – possibly a lynx or wolf spider which are both enthusiastic hunters of mosquitoes and other small insects, which around here earns you a certain amount of goodwill. On a different note we’ve actually started noticing more and more jumping spiders around the house which does put a smile on our faces.
We left it to its business.
In other news, a return trip to Lotus yielded results on the mosquito bat front. The selection is, frankly, impressive – a full shelf ranging from the no-frills 101 baht options up to the Commando units at 490-599 baht, which come with UV light.
We picked up two. We were tempted by the purple UV light models – they’re everywhere in Thailand and the zappers are satisfyingly dramatic – but held off. UV zappers attract insects indiscriminately, which means beneficial ones alongside the mosquitoes. Given that we’re trying to build a garden ecosystem rather than dismantle one, that felt counterproductive. More expensive too, which helped the decision along.
We’ll be giving them a proper unboxing and field test shortly. Watch this space.