Three pairs of pin-pointy claws gripped my fingers tightly. With its long Y-shaped cephalic horn, a four-inch male Rhinoceros beetle carefully advanced along my fingers. It moved robotically. Deliberately and precisely placed its legs. With each step, the appendages contracted with equal pressure. Methodically moving up my hand, each barbed foot squeezed with an uncomfortable sharpness.
This encounter was years ago, during recess, at my old school. My grade two students had searched the deciduous tree-filled playground, proudly presented me with their treasure and insisted I hold it.
My eyes grew huge. My northern home country has nothing like this. I felt a near overwhelming instinct to flail and shake it off. An almost primordial fear even though they are harmless. A large insect crawling up my hand was both unsettling and fascinating.
I couldn’t decide whether to scream or casually comment, “oh, that’s so cool!” But grit is required in school teachers of smiling seven-year-olds. So I held my terror in check and decided on the latter response.
***
Now, years later, I’m surrounded by hundreds of such beetles - many much larger than my playground friend. I’m in an insect pet shop in Taichung - immersed in a curious subculture.
Beetles as pets and collecting beetles is big business. A passion and obsession for many. Between beetles, beetle-related products, toys and games, combined annual sales in Taiwan run into the hundreds of millions of dollars.
Taiwan is an insect sweet spot. The island’s location and topographical characteristics make it a paradise for beetles and other insects. To date, over 6,200 species of beetles have been identified and catalogued.
***
In this shop’s sparse 360 square feet, beetles are king but not the only tenants. Storefront window cases are filled with chameleons whose rotating periscope eyes follow me. The place is packed. Not an inch is bare. Insects, related creatures, and a few reptiles and amphibians are thrown in too.
Hundreds of mounted beetles and other insects in huge wooden frames dominate the walls. Posters, pamphlets and nets fill the remaining space. Just looking and identifying everything takes time.
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| bugs to your right through the front door |
The right-side wall is one continuous angle-iron shelf of supplies: the four different soil types for beetle larvae development are bagged ready to go, heat lamps, other bug necessities, and food. Dozens of small plastic aquarium-style containers are stacked high.
More containers hold tiny black spiders and a tall rectangular vivarium, a terrarium with animals, as one definition puts it, has hordes of praying mantas clinging to long branches. A praying mantis can rotate its head a full 180 degrees. No sneaking up on this bunch.
The left wall has creatures. Boxes of crawling crickets. More angle-iron shelves filled with scorpions stacked in containers like egg cartons in a supermarket fridge. The scorpions wait patiently.
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| dozens of stacked scorpions |
Next to the scorpions are plastic boxes of beetles. Each container has a sticker with the beetle’s date of birth, sex and length. They contently sit on a layer of soil packed with moss and food cups. A long wide cabinet fills the central floor space between the two walls with additional provisions and mountains of more beetles.
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| beetle fruit jellies in various flavours |
I inspect one giant rhino beetle and ask Michael the manager if it’s expensive. He answers, “not really. It’s old.” Age, size, species, physical characteristics and body symmetry are all part of the price equation. Michael tilts his head and continues, “this one is about US$100.” Store prices range from approximately fifteen dollars to several hundred dollars. Online sites reveal much higher prices.
I ask where do the beetles come from. Michael proudly responds, “we raise them all here. None are from the wild.” I continue, “how many types do you have?” Michael stops opening beetle food cups, ponders the question, and answers, “too many to count.” Taiwan beetles are popular, but so are species from Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia and the Philippines.
***
The store is compact, but the backroom extends the long, narrow building's length. I learn about a rhino beetle’s life cycle among heaps of supplies.
An employee hunched over a deep dirt tray carefully breaks apart chunks of soil, searching for beetle eggs. Meticulously, the pieces of earth are inspected, and the milk-white eggs, the size of kernels of corn, are gingerly removed with a long cocktail spoon and planted in another container. The eggs hatch in a week or two, and the larvae begin to grow in a nutrient-rich medium.
Larvae develop over several months. When larvae have progressed sufficiently, customers make grub purchases, and as the larvae grow, owners return to have the soil changed to match the different stages of development.
***
The story is bustling, and people arrive for supplies, to ask questions and visit. A woman with two small boys shows up clutching a bag. Michael removes a container and gently pulls out three large beetle grubs the size of stout German sausage links. The woman is concerned. Michael nods, places each larva on a digital scale, and writes down their weight in a spiral notebook. He replaces the old soil with fresh soil, returns the grubs carefully, and buries them. Beetle larvae don’t like to be disturbed.
Later I asked what happened. Michael replies, “the larvae were too small for their age. They should be bigger. They needed new soil.” Beetle larva lounge around in the different soil mixtures for months and eventually emerge as adults and can live from about six months to nearly a year.
Both children and adults enjoy the hobby. Beetles are inexpensive and relatively easy to care for, so whole families participate. Many adult customers’ interest began as children and has continued for decades. As a child, the store owner Vincent went to the mountains hunting for beetles and has owned this shop for over 20 years.
Some enthusiasts breed and raise beetles. Michael comments that many beetle owners are serious collectors with extensive and expensive collections.
***
Michael lifts a giant beetle from its container with care and holds it while I click pictures near the end of my visit. The beetle shines lacquered black. It calmly dangles and is soon returned to its home.
I learn Michael doesn’t let beetles climb on his hands, citing beetle feet are too sharp. I’m relieved. At least here, there is little chance of screaming.
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| an enormous beetle - not treading on anyone |
