Wiggy

It wasn't until I looked in my sweep net and saw this little guy that it occurred to me how rarely I see earwigs these days. Back in my rural Lancashire childhood they were very common - in fact my mother, who was a keen flower gardener, regarded them as a serious pest because of the damage they were wont to do to her dahlias. And - of course - I was told, many times, the old wives' tale that if one got into your ear it would eat its way through the drum and into your brain. I was a sensitive (some would probably say soppy) child, who was very susceptible to this kind of rubbish, and it took me years to realise that I'd pretty much definitely been had, and to be able to look at an earwig without shuddering. This is the first one I've seen this year though, and I viewed him with great interest, even though he was threatening me with those fearsome-looking pincers.

I found myself thinking that he looked quite a lot like some of the rove beetles I've seen, but when I looked up earwigs on line I discovered that they're actually a separate order - the Dermaptera - which means "skin wing", and refers to the fact that the hind wings, tucked away here beneath the short leathery forewings, are membranous. It's been suggested that the common name derives from the Old English and means "ear beetle", because the functional but rarely used hindwings are shaped like ears, and because I'm not the first person to have noted a similarity with some beetles. Wikipedia has more, if you want it.

The old wives' tale around the common name presumably came later, because let's face it, not everyone is an entomologist, and it makes an entertaining story - if frightening impressionable five year olds is your idea of a good time. That said, earwigs might well make their way into your ear canal, if you left it handily placed, because they like warm, damp, dark places. They could probably even give you a bit of a nip with their pincers (which are almost straight in the female, but curved like this in the male), though it's unlikely they could do you serious damage - the pincers, which are actually cerci, are sometimes raised in a defensive threat display like this, but they're mainly used during mating. Earwigs are omnivorous, and apart from my mother's dahlias they mainly eat decaying plant and animal detritus, and smaller soft bodied insects such as aphids. On balance therefore (unless you're a competitive dahlia grower) they're a positive force in the garden.

The really interesting thing about earwigs - and let's face it, you deserve one if you've read this far - is that the females display a level of dedication to their young that's otherwise almost unknown in the insect world. Mating takes place in the autumn, though the male's sperm may not actually fertilise the female's eggs for several months. During the late winter and early spring she will dig a nest in the ground and lay her brood of 30-50 eggs, which she will then guard from predators and disease, turning them regularly and licking them to keep them free of mould. When the nymphs hatch she continues to guard and feed them, going out at night and finding food which she then regurgitates for them back at the nest. By their second instar they will be able to fend for themselves, and at this point if they don't leave the nest she might eat them - though it's also possible that they end up eating her.

By the way, I read somewhere that if you do get an earwig inside your ear canal, you can entice it back out by smearing your cheek with apple purée. Don't say I never tell you anything useful.

My ladybird of the day has gone up on Facebook, should you care to see it.

And finally, in other news: my "bad cold" worsened over the second half of yesterday, gaining some highly unwelcome symptoms: altered taste and smell, nausea, and a slight sense of disorientation. Duly, I've now tested positive for Covid, and as well as being pretty annoyed about the interruption to my normal lifestyle, I'm feeling pretty guilty that my Bad Feeling about the situation didn't arise until after I'd been out and about yesterday. I'm now quite a bit sicker than I was the first time I had the plague, back in March, and apart from my brief foray into the garden this afternoon, I've spent most of the day in bed. R is testing negative thus far, and though he's been a sweetheart today in fetching me food, drinks, and fresh hot water bottles, I'm doing my best to keep him that way. Luckily, back in my teens I did a project on the plague village of Eyam, so I already have a useful template in my head.