Close encounter on Montjuïc: a cone-head mantis

Once lapped on all sides by the Mediterranean, Montjuïc could still be described as an island, although now it emerges among from a sea of urbanisation.

The slopes that drop down to the ring road and the Zona Franca are prohibitively steep: the few existing paths have been made by asparagus hunters, those determined enough to brave faecal bombardment from the nesting yellow-legged gulls. Most visitors barely look at this inaccessible rocky scrubland, their gaze inevitably drawn further away, to the unexpected juxtaposition of sparkling sea and the colourful containers in the noisy port. Known for its nesting peregrine falcons and impressively large Montpellier snakes, this valuable remnant of wild habitat also harbours a truly strange species, much less visible.

Bending down for a closer look at a delicate green lacewing fly, I saw a twisted bit of dried grass suddenly quiver and move away. With a sense of disbelief, I found a bizarre insect with a wizard-like cone-shaped head, the eyes of an alien and the tail of a dragon.

Only three centimetres long, this immature cone-head mantis, prowling through the grass in pursuit of small insects, still lacked the wings of an adult. The colour of dry vegetation, and with sharply angled limbs, it formed part of the criss-cross pattern of surrounding plant stems. If you’re lucky enough to come across one, best not look away, in case it merges invisibly back into the grass.

The brittle movements and sheer uncanniness of the mantis were redolent of early film special effects. The unforgettable skeleton army from Jason and the Argonauts comes to mind. Coincidentally, the insect’s Latin name, Empusa pennata, comes from a vampirical monster in Greek mythology: an empusa preyed on young men, seducing them in their sleep. However, unlike the more commonly seen praying mantis, the female cone-head shows no penchant for devouring her mate.  

Lucy Brzoska runs nature tours and writes for www.iberianature.com