The other day I received a most interesting note from Linda, a regular follower of the column. She said just about every morning around 7 a family of walking sticks parades in single file across her patio. She said they travel in the most orderly fashion with mom or dad (she didn’t know which) in the lead followed by seven youngsters with the other parent bringing up the rear. Their destination is the plentiful supply of impatiens plants decorating her patio.

Though walking sticks are quite common here in southern Michigan most of us know little about them. There are some 3,000 species worldwide but the primary one in the U.S. is the northern, or common, walking stick. They inhabit most of the eastern U.S.  They are one of our largest insects and the ultimate masters of disguise. As their name implies, they look just like a small twig. The long, slender body can be up to four inches long and the spindly legs sprout out from nodule-like bumps just like a real twig. Walking sticks look more like a twig than a real twig does.

They often sit motionless or gently rocking from side to side for long periods of time. Usually the only time we’re able to spot them is when they’re on the move or if they end up on the side of a house or car where their incredible camouflage doesn’t work so well.

I hate to say it Linda, but your clan is not the happy little family group it appears. Walking sticks spend the bulk of their time high in the treetops. They mate in the fall and soon afterwards begin laying eggs. I say laying but bombing would be a more appropriate term. As she moves around in the treetops the female releases her eggs one at a time and they fall to the ground spread randomly about. In areas with high concentrations the falling eggs sound like raindrops hitting the dry leaf litter below.

As the trees shed their leaves the eggs are covered with enough insulation that they can overwinter without freezing. Some eggs hatch the following year. However, to hedge their bet in case of a catastrophic year others remain in the leaf litter two years before hatching. By then the female that dropped them is likely long gone for their life span is typically just a year or two. The emerging nymphs look like miniature versions of the adults. The nymphs crawl onto low vegetation and eat the leaves. As they grow they venture higher and higher until, as adults, they reach the treetops.

So Linda’s perceived family group is actually all adults. Male walking sticks are about three inches in length while the females stretch out closer to four inches which explains the size difference. The males are dark brown while the females tend to be more greenish-brown. What I find most curious is that I’ve never heard of walking sticks being social, much less hanging out in defined groups. They’re supposed to be solitary.

All I can think of is this is a group of males scoping out a couple chicks for the upcoming mating season. It seems early for that as they don’t normally mate for at least another month but who knows? The traveling in single file is equally perplexing. Perhaps they are following each other’s scent trails like ants do. Don’t know.

Walking sticks are vegans, eating the leaves of trees and shrubs, and apparently Linda’s impatiens. Oaks are one of their favorites but they’ll make do with most any tree leaf. Here in the northern part of their range populations are rarely dense enough to cause problems but farther south large infestations sometimes severely damage or even kill trees.

Walking sticks have no wings and can only walk at a snails pace so they have a couple of other interesting defense mechanisms in addition to their camouflage. They are capable of limb autotomy, which means if a predator grabs a leg or antenna, it will break off and another will grow. They can also emit a stinky fluid to render themselves less tasty.

Carpe diem.

Larry Lyons writes a weekly outdoor column for Leader Publications.

He can be reached at larrylyons@verizon.net.