The annotated budak

It always pores

They are the roly-poly backpackers of the brachyuran scene. Portunids bristle with sharp claws and a surly disposition, while xanthids come with muscular arms and tight grips that promise more than a pinch of pain. Dromiids are said to be unpalatable delicacies, but these primitive crabs generally pose no major risk to limb and life, granting encounters that threaten merely to unleash a plump demonstration of soft power.

These clumsy-looking crabs usually suffer a chronic lack of haste, as their joints creak for want of unwelcome attention and the burden they bear on their backs. A few individuals at Beting Bronok, however, sped around with terrible complacency, confident perhaps that one cool hour of darkness would pose no threat to a rush across the reef. Like another specimen caught out in a state of dire underdress, this fellow made one move too many and found its hide overturned to reveal a carapace of stout indignance.

Two skinny pairs of legs are all that hold up a mountain of pores that has been tailored to suit the girth of its mover. From an early age, young dromiids select a hideout of filter feeders which they cut out and trim to fit. Sponges off the shelf are often too straight-laced for rotund shells, so the crabs have been observed to press the tissue tightly against its back, while bending it into shape. With time, the porous colony grows to match the concavity of its carriage. Foodwise, dromiids are said to have a weakness for sea stars.

Crabs in captivity are are reported to grudgingly accept unorthodox fabric like paper or clay, applying a paper-doll technique to snip out complementary ellipses. These flimsy caps are rapidly discarded should the animal come across natural substitutes. As the crab grows, the sponge presumably prospers from a free ride to richer waters and enhances its mass with glassy peaks and silica valleys. This individual's blue-green garb has become an ecosystem in itself, with hollows that hide brittle stars and cosy nooks where tiny porcelain crabs and even minuter isopods perch to take in plankton that rain down from the silty swirls of a shallow sea. 

Pretty hard to hide

These little striped hermit crabs at Beting Bronok seem to like foraging amid the leathery drapes of soft corals, sharing their hideout with tiny brittlestars and waving gangs of porcelain crabs. The cauliflower-like lobes and crowded racemes of pinkish polyps probably afford ready corners to retreat into and ample backdoors to make a getaway from claws that could make short work of hermits even in a hard shell.

Two short

There are still enough limbs to permit a graceful perch on the dry end of a reed. But why does this dragonfly species shy away from showing its foremost pair of legs?

Terror on the trunk

It's becoming quite apparent that large hairy spiders are much more common than many would like. Half-a-dozen or more occupy the perimeter of a few steps on the trail, lurking between the folds of long leaves, playing hide-and-seek on the flanks of wooden railings or sitting right before blind eyes on the trunks of tall trees. Some invite closer inspection with almost delicate features and a willingness to face the light of curious gazes. Others, like this grey hunter on mottled bark, inspire the confidence of cowards and the thrill of long legs running with naked flurry and the scrape of swift fangs between wet shirt and sweaty skin.

Beach wear

The grey mudflat and dull green of washed up layers of algae on Beting Bronok do little to hide brazen displays of colour. A hermit crab of unknown provenance was caught trying to fit into garb that appeared a mite too big for its slim contours. The coils of its home seem too roomy for a tenant too ambitious to admit defeat and a little blue in the face and the inner side of its well-matched carpi.

Another fashion victim whose cover was blown when it unwisely flashed a finger of pink was this sponge crab. Its flimsy sheet of green was a far cry from the sturdy cloaks of invisibility borne by wiser kin. Perhaps the rotund creature lost its better shirt in a moment of indiscretion and had no choice but to swipe whatever was handy to shield its modesty while it seeks out porous attire of greater sartoriality.

Stick on a limb

Their order contains the longest known living insects, but Phasmids are frustratingly scarce creatures, notwithstanding the fact that more than 30 species are known from local forests. Their ability to hide in plain sight and nocturnal habits clearly help them avoid prying eyes, and it's likely that many dwell high in the canopy, beyond the reach of grasping arms and and poking ducks.

This large (approx. 15 cm) individual on Pulau Ubin was sighted only because it was clambering about a clump of woody foliage that had fallen close to the road. It's probably Lonchodes brevipes, one of the few species of stick insects that is not reckoned rare locally. The stiff beast feeds on common plants such as guava, hibiscus, rose and gambier. Murphy (1990) notes the occasional occurrence of this species on sea hibiscus, making it one of just two phasmids that might be encountered in the mangal. Becoming aware that its cover was blown, the insect clasped its forelegs together and played dead on a twig, only to suffer brief flashes of attention and a helping hand back to a bush beyond the burning sun.