At first, it looked as if the tips of its legs had suffered a severing that forced the bug to walk on stumps. But reduviids, it seems, make do with tarsi made up of a mere three segments, which provide enough of a toehold to ferry the insect over a course of waxy leaves and smooth twigs. Some even manage to invade spiderwebs, seeking perhaps a stab at a free meal or even at the arachnids themselves, whose fangs lack the range of a foldable beak.
Adding to the ungainliness of its proportions, this assassin bug, probably a species of Sycanus, sports a head that is little more than a tube with cold eyes and lanky feelers. The other segments offer the curiosities of a pronotal spike that may serve to impede attacks from above and yellow-to-brown wings flanked by a pair of pronounced flaps. The offensive end of the creature, a hinged rostrum tucked beneath the body when the beast is at ease, delivers a dose of venom potent enough to subdue prey or punish the owners of soft digits. Such qualities are lost on most cityfolk who live in mortal fear of bugs that bite, but those who toil to feed the towns are probably happy to welcome these predators as allies against caterpillars and sap-suckers who conspire to deprive mankind of his fair share of a harvest of squandered feed.