Tiny Bats & Strange Porn

There are many millions of species trotting, slithering, crawling, flapping, splashing, or just sitting around being microscopic and non-motile on our happy little planet. Getting to know them all would be damn difficult, by which I mean impossible, but it’s always fun to meet some creatures we might not have previously been aware of. Which is what we’re gonna do today.

So let’s get cracking.

Bumblebee Bat (Craseonycteris thonglongyai)

(Full Grown Bumblebee Bat)

These marvelous little animals are also known as Kitti’s hog-nosed bats, after the Thai biologist, Kitti Thonglongya, who discovered them in 1973, and are found only in the caves of Thailand and Myanmar.

Bumblebee bats got their nickname because they are truly tiny. They are a little better than an inch long, with seven-inch wingspans, and they weigh in at about two grams, or about the same weight as a dime. Not only are they the smallest bats on the planet, but a case can be made that they are the smallest mammals on the planet, period.

They are active for less than two hours a day, leaving their caves for an hour at dusk and a half hour at dawn, during which time they flutter about in search of dinner, or breakfast, as the case may be. Like many bats, bumblebees eat insects like flies and beetles, but pepper their diets with small spiders and slugs.

For a very long time, Buddhist monks did their meditation thing in the same limestone caves that the bumblebees call home. There is a lot of smoke involved with some forms of Buddhist meditation (incense and so forth), and ecologists began to worry that the rapidly diminishing population of bumblebee bats might be due to increasing levels of that smoke. When they were made aware of the potential problem, the monks of Myanmar took the situation to heart and reacted splendidly.

(Bumblebee Bat Up Close)

They relocated their meditations to areas around the entrances to the caves. Not only did this allow the smoke to more readily dissipate, it simultaneously transformed the monks into something akin to gatekeepers. These days, the monks take an active role in protecting “their” bumblebee bats, keeping the number of visitors to a minimum, and turning away anyone they think might cause the bats distress or harm. What’s really cool is that they did this, not because of governmental involvement or a pressure campaign mounted by environmentalists, but simply because of their love and respect for the natural world.

Needless to say, the world could definitely use more of that.

Cobalt Blue Tarantula (Cyriopagopus lividum)

(Cobalt Blue Tarantula)

Lots of people get creeped out by spiders, but I think even the arachnophobes (people who are frightened of spiders) out there would have to concede that cobalt blue tarantulas are astonishingly pretty. Like their incredibly distant cousins (a couple billion years removed) the bumblebee bats, cobalt blue tarantulas are natives of Myanmar and Thailand.

These tarantulas, while not the biggest spiders on the block, can still measure up to six inches across. They move quickly and somewhat erratically, which might be due to the fact that despite having a spider’s traditional allotment of eight eyes, they are quite myopic. They prefer damp tropical forests, where they dig beneath the rotting vegetation at ground level, and into the earth, excavating deep burrows. They usually leave their retreats only at night, at which time they hunt down dinner, showing a marked preference beetles and worms.

Cobalts are popular pets among arachnophiles (spider enthusiasts), though this isn’t always a swell idea. North American tarantula species are largely docile spiders. They almost never bite, unless you go miles out of your way to annoy them, and even if they do bite they are unlikely to inject any venom. Not that it matters one way or the other, because their venom isn’t hazardous to humans in the first place.

(Another Cobalt)

Unfortunately, none of what I just said about North American tarantulas applies to the blue tarantulas of Asia. These guys are not docile. Like, at all. They are known, in fact, to be almost hyper-aggressive to the point that some people have even called them “psychotic.” They are known for attacking bothersome humans with little provocation – fangs up, ready for action. Alarmingly, even newly hatched cobalt spiderlings have been known to bite people. While their venom isn’t particularly harmful to humans, their bites are wicked painful, and in certain cases victims have reported lingering muscle spasms.

All I’m trying to say is that if want to start junior’s spider collection off with a biggie, pick a tarantula that is less susceptible to outbreaks of arachnorage. The cobalts are not to be trifled with.

Argonaut Squid (Argonauta)

(Female Argonaut Squid)

To round out today’s trio of unfamiliar faunae, say hello to the argonaut squid. They are technically octopuses, but whatever. There are four species of these diminutive oddballs, and they comprise the entire genus Argonauta and the family Argonautidae. They are cephalopods, like cuttlefish and true squid, but they are also oh-so different. One might even go so far as to say that they are deeply strange. In fact, let’s just go ahead and do that: argonaut squid are deeply strange.

Scientists know very little about cephalopods generally, and even less about argonauts. The tiny squid live in warm tropical waters, along the west coast of South America and throughout the Indo-Pacific. Most cephalopods prefer habitats at or near the bottom, where there are numerous places to hide. Argonauts on the other hand are pelagic, spending most of their lives in open water near the surface.

They dine upon typical cephalopod prey like jellyfish and mollusks. When they get a hold of something tasty, they pull it to their beaks and bite down hard. Argonauts are venomous, so in addition to the bite they inject toxins into their prey from ducts in their salivary glands. Like most other cephalopods argonauts have a radula, or rasp tongue, a chitinous band akin to a little wavy drill bit, which they use to puncture the shells of crustaceans.

(Note Her Long Arms)

Of all the ways argonauts differ from their cousins, it is their reproductive strategies that set them apart so uniquely, not just from other cephalopods, but from most other animals. To begin with, argonauts are sexually dimorphic, meaning that females are dramatically larger than males. A great big female might be a full four inches long (“great big” is, yes, relative), whereas even the biggest Andre-the-Giant-sized male tops out at around half an inch.

Most female cephalopods deposit their eggs within the cracks and holes found in coral reefs or undersea rock formations, and then stand guard over them until they hatch. Recall, however, that argonauts are surface-dwelling creatures, and so do not have such luxuries. But that does not mean that their eggs go unprotected. Female argonauts are able to secrete calcite, a mineral, through special adaptations in two of their arms.

Throughout their lives they use these arms to “spin” a beautiful calcite shell about themselves. So thin are the shells that they are translucent, which is why the argonaut is sometimes called by the nickname “paper nautilus.” The shells serve the dual purpose of protecting females while they are buffeted about in the waves, and shielding their eggs until it is time for them to hatch.

Scientists are not sure exactly how females get together with males for their yearly bouts of argonaut erotic congress, but it is abundantly clear what happens afterward. Females, as we have seen, keep their fertilized eggs in their homegrown shells, which is pretty strange, and yet the male role in fertilization is stranger still.

When the season rolls around for making a new batch of baby argonauts, the male loads a bunch of sperm onto a specialized arm known as a hectocotylus. The hectocotylus is riven with grooves, along which sperm can safely travel, something like little single-exit spermatozoa expressways. And the sperm does need to travel safely because of what happens next.

(Male Argonaut Hectocotylus)

Preparatory to presenting sperm to its mate, the male positions itself near the female’s oviduct, and completely detaches its sperm-laden hectocotylus. Cuts it loose. Says so long permanently. The hectocotylus then wriggles over to the female and crawls inside. It is not unusual for a female argonaut to mate with multiple males, as females have been found carrying several hectocotyli. No one is sure what happens to the male after it has done its bit for the continuation of the species, but it seems likely that it either re-grows its hectocotylus and lives to mate another day (cephalopods routinely re-grow limbs), or it simply dies. Frown emoji.

And that does it for today’s introduction to three unusual animal species. But before we part company I would like to say one more thing on the subject of argonaut sex: If humans had evolved along the same lines as argonauts, porn today would be a whole other kind of thing.

Cheers.