Ah, the British springtime: Cocky is showing his babies off to Michaela, Clare’s cycling to her class, quiet sundowners by Steve’s fire pit, and what’s that thumping against the window like a tiny drunk helicopter? It is the noble cockchafer, otherwise known as the Maybug, back from its underground development to fly into your face and ruin your day by making you pour wine over your new top.
The cockchafer, (aka Melolontha melolontha), is a large beetle-shaped reminder that nature does indeed have a sense of humour. Named from the Old English words for “big beetle that causes mild panic,” these creatures emerge around May, hence the nickname, noisily bumbling through the dusk in a fashion that suggests they are either deeply lost or thoroughly enjoying themselves. The name, cockchafer, is scientifically accurate but almost impossible to say with a straight face at dinner parties and especially after a few cocktails…
Native to Europe and parts of western Asia, cockchafers are widespread across the UK and much of the continent. But do not be fooled by their loud presence in late spring, these beetles have spent most of their lives in hiding. The larval stage lasts for up to four years underground, quietly munching on plant roots like tiny subterranean vandals. Then, one spring evening, up they pop, disoriented, enthusiastic, and very bad at flying.
Despite their startling appearance, cockchafers are largely harmless. The adult beetles feed on leaves, especially oak, beech and roses, but they do not usually do much damage. Their real ecological job is to serve as a mobile buffet for bats, owls and other nighttime diners. To a hungry tawny owl, a Maybug is a noisy, protein-packed hors d’oeuvre.
They also make a faintly hilarious buzzing noise, like a wind-up toy that is slightly too big for its own good, and they have antennae that look like tiny novelty fans. These are more prominent in males, who wave them around as if they are trying to pick up longwave radio.
In centuries past, cockchafers were such a nuisance to crops that they were literally put on trial. That is right, peasants in fourteenth-century France brought them to court in Avignon and sentenced them to exile or worse. By the twentieth century, the agricultural industry got its revenge through the generous use of pesticides, and cockchafer populations plummeted. But in recent years, thanks to reduced pesticide use and more environmentally friendly farming, they have made a noisy comeback.
They cannot land gracefully, ever. It is always a crash, a tumble, and a look of “I meant to do that”. They frequently mistake heads, lamps, and large glasses of wine for landing pads… Blunderbugs!
Do not panic they say: they are harmless, just clumsy – yeah right… If a Maybug gets stuck in your hair, gently relocate it to a bush outside and offer a few words of encouragement – like any female in her right mind is going to do that…
So next time you hear a buzz like a tiny chainsaw and see a beetle that looks like it is piloting its own midlife crisis, raise a glass. The cockchafer is back for its annual tour. And it brought friends. But don’t worry: you might be looking at the grand total of its brief adult life; just a few weeks before it lays eggs and the cycle begins again underground.
PS. Be warned, they are also nocturnal. Last year, one flew in through my bedroom window in full stealth mode, under the cover of darkness, just as I was in bed chatting on the phone with Pooh Bear.
Without warning, it dive-bombed me and landed squarely in my hair. I screamed, very loudly, words to the effect of:
“There’s a giant cockroach in my hair!”
You can imagine the embarrassment when I turned the light on and discovered that my midnight monster was no longer than two centimetres. He thought it was hilarious, and once I had calmed down and launched it back out through the window in a sort of improvised trebuchet manoeuvre, so did I…
PPS. The image is a generic bug one.
Photo by Šárka Krňávková
