While his mistresses spend the season shooting cold chicks and mythical mutts, Diego the mantis nymph is enjoying the dubious privilege of a week in a kitchen full of cockroaches. Barely an inch, he dashes at every unfortunate cousin my duck dumps into his cell.
Roaches half his length are dispatched in minutes, their legs and antennae waving in protest while Diego munches his way through the torso, saving the head for last. To subdue more robust prey equal to his size, he chews off the limbs before moving on to juicier parts. In between meals, he hangs from the lid of his capsule, cleaning his talons and offering quiet supplications for the time when he will be born again in the imago of his ancestors.