The woodlouse genus Armadillidium is the only species of woodlouse that possesses the ability to roll into a ball. There are over 3000 known species of woodlouse, and some examples of the species in general can be rather extravagant. Well…at least by land-dwelling crustacean standards. Woodlice, Armadillidium and otherwise, are not-too-distant relatives of aquatic isopods, and indeed, the genus Armadillidium closely resembles the “giant isopod” found in the deep sea. These are impressive creatures. Some are bigger than newborn kittens. In terms of land-dwelling isopods, there are zillions of names for them. In the United States, they’re known as “armadillo bugs” as well as “pillbugs” or “roolie-polies”. They’are also called “sow bugs,” “potato bugs,” and “doodlebugs” or “billywigs.” In Denmark, I’ve recently learned, they’re called “bench biters,” and I still imagine that they’re somewhat aggressive and territorial things that will attack any bench that wanders into their well-guarded territory. In Newfoundland, they’re known as “carpenters.” In parts of the UK, their names are rather cheesy. Literally. They have been (and are) known as “cheese logs” and “cheesybugs.” In Australia and New Zealand, they’re known as “Slaters.” (Funny, Slater is also the family name of my high-school gym teacher. He and I didn’t get along.) The Cornish name for a woodlouse is “Gamersow.” And while searching for more woodlouse names, I came across “Muffin the Great” which is apparently a woodlouse god of sorts. How unsurprising. If there was ever a good and benevolent god, it probably would be a woodlouse…I mean, they’re cute, polite, and they’re vegetarians, and they recycle. Yes, woodlice will sometimes eat their own molted shells; lots of animals recycle (even some humans.) But woodlice are the only cute ones who do so consistently. When they molt, they will often eat their cast-off shells; though they might leave them laying around for a while until they’ve achieved the right flavor balance. I have it on good authority that molted shells just don’t taste right if you haven’t allowed them to ripen. They’re a bit dry, so they’re often eaten with lettuce or cabbage, which is—of course—deliciously wet. Needless to say, I like woodlice. A lot. I’m not the only one. Isaac Asimov also liked them. A lot. In the story that seems to capture his personality the best, I heard that as a child, he’d discovered a number of them and decided to experience what it felt like to have them walking across his tongue. He popped a few of them in his mouth and held them there, carefully, without regard to the fact that his mother was on the way out to the garden to see what he was up to. He was a child. Forethought was not a strong point as yet, and so with a mouth full of woodlice, he was confronted with the necessity to speak in response to his mother’s typical motherly inquiry of “what are you doing?” He couldn’t respond, without first spitting the woodlice out. Apparently, with at least 4 such creatures in his mouth, he looked a bit ill. He spat them into his palm and muttered some innocent response. His mother thought him an unwell child. It’s no wonder he grew up to be a science fiction writer (among other great things) and well…I rather like the fact that he found out what woodlice feel like, moving across a big, pink, human tongue. I somehow suspect that the woodlice in question found the experience disquieting and probably rather disgusting. Humans are, after all, dubious creatures, and the insides of their mouths are far to pink to be clean. *** As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you're having a great week.