They don’t bite. They don’t spread disease. They are the only crustaceans to successfully colonize land. They go by many names and some are quite colorful. Yes, as stated before, they are known as bench biters in Denmark, and in parts of the UK they’ve been known (during various times) as coffin cutters. This name, as far as I’m concerned, evokes whole work-gangs of them, carving coffins out of raw wood and using their own shed armor as lid-hinges. This is not a particular accurate or “happy” image of them, but it serves. They are intriguing creatures, as I’ve always maintained. They are the perfect aliens, and as a science fiction writer, I’m sure that they (or some variant) will appear in numerous as-yet-written works. As a child, I kept them in mayonnaise jars, peanut-butter jars, and in a fish-tank turned into a terrarium. As an adult, I have plans to purchase another fish tank and breed a colony. They make interesting pets, and are far more fun (and fulfilling) than television. There is—as well—a whimsical element to their existence. During my first summer in the USA since returning from Prague, I sought them out. I’d seen them in Europe, but not in any great number. I hadn’t been in the Czech Lands or Germany long enough to spot their most popular hangouts. Admittedly, I was more interested in exploring the Czech people, rather than the co-inhabitants of their country. Upon my return to Chicago, I was more interested in looking for the non-human inhabitants of this city. I bear no ill will to my fellow Chicagoans, rather I bear no will (good, ill, or otherwise) to them at all. They are a neutral presence, a zero-sum in far too many cases. Woodlice, however, are a benefit: in their way, they keep this city clean…well…parts of it anyway. They feed on leaf litter, decaying plant matter, various fungus and bacterial colonies. They clean up after themselves as they commonly feed on the fungi that grow on their own feces. This makes them like humans and certain breeds of ant: they cultivate some of their own foods, though with less conscious effort than humans might, and with less regimented precision as ants would commonly display. And so, during my first summer back in the USA, I found woodlice and derived comfort from their presence. Now, in winter, they provide yet another bit of comfort as their own digital avatars. Many that I have photographed are likely still alive. Spiders don’t find them appetizing, and many smaller things that feed on them have been displaced by humans. The fact that spiders don’t commonly eat them proves one thing: spiders don’t like shrimp--or their cousins. It is cold now. And snowy. Snow doesn’t bother me, but the lack of sunlight renders a city like Chicago extremely boring. There is no visual excitement, and so in search of something “fun” to look at, I’ve gone through summertime files and found the most cooperative of my isopod models—a rather quiet creature content to forage for food as I snapped digital pictures. I love the patterns on this particular specimen, proof that it’s lived for at least two years if not more. As with most woodlice, sexual maturity does not occur until after two years, and judging by the size of this specimen, it is most surely an adult—an old-timer, possibly up to 3 years old. This is my 401st post, and in honor of breaking the 400-post mark, I've decided to mark the occasion with one of my favorite creatures on earth, and I hope you enjoy this image as much as I enjoy the demure and impeccably polite creature who serves as its subject. As always, thank you for viewing, reading and commenting. **Zoom Reveals More Detail**