In Praise of the Roly Poly

Yesterday on satellite radio, a singer warbled a ditty recorded by Bob Wills: “Roly Poly, Daddy’s little fattie....” Quite the droll roly poly coincidence since I was teetering on the brink of an article on my childhood buddy bug. Living in the country without nearby playmates, my sister and I turned to nature’s children. The whimsical roly poly filled the niche nicely. He doesn’t bite, sting, spit, gnaw on clothes or make a mess and is amiable except when fear prompts his rolling up in a tight, hard ball. We created adventures for Marco Poly, who stalwartly marched over mountains we put in his path and maneuvered through wicked labyrinths, but the most entertaining past time was the Roly Poly Derby, complete with mini racetrack where competitors raced to a cheering crowd of two urging entries to the finish line, which was rarely crossed unless impatience provoked intervention called cheating.

Little did we know how bizarre Mr. R. P. is. He isn’t even an insect as we assumed because he has lots of little legs, mucks around in dirt and leaves, and hides under rocks like many insects. He’s actually a crustacean and breathes through gills. Think shrimp, crabs, crawfish; they’re his aquatic cousins. I haven’t tried cooking with roly polies, but I’d wager they’re not good in gumbo or boiled in Cajun seasoning, and I’ll bet they’re a pain to peel.

The terrestrial crustacean goes by many clever aliases which I’ll take the liberty of using randomly. He answers to the names pill bug, woodlouse, sow bug, chuggy pig, doodlebug, and armadillo bug, the last derived from his family classification Armadillidiiae, and I promise that’s not misspelled. Now think mini armadillo.  Both armadillo and armadillo bug have hard shells, like M & M’s but not chocolate, and the South American armadillo rolls up roly poly style if provoked. There similarity ends, and if you want to be picky, you could point out that the pill bug shell is an exoskeleton made of chitin and no, that isn’t chitlins, while the armadillo shell is derma bone and scales.

Pill bug bodies consist of a head with mouth, eyes, and two pair of antennae, a seven-segmented thorax each equipped with a pair of jointed legs, and “uropods” at the posterior.  Females have marsupial pouches (think kangaroo) on the underside where they carry their eggs as if in a basket (think Easter Bunny). After the eggs hatch, the itty bitty babies stay in the pouch for several days then venture out into the world at the same time, making it appear that Mom is giving birth. As juveniles grow and clothes get too tight, they molt in two stages, the back molting first and the front following two to three days later. Often front and back are different colors at molting times, creating a stunning outfit of pink and gray.

Now for the fun and weird poop on doodlebugs. They eat their own doodle to reclaim excreted copper, an element essential to their health. Their blood turns blue when oxygenated because it’s comprised of hemocyanin containing copper as opposed to hemoglobin containing iron. While we’re discussing bodily fluids, it’s as good a time as any to mention that they don’t pee like other creatures who urinate to expel body waste high in ammonia. Hardy pill bugs tolerate ammonia gas just fine, thanks, and discreetly leak it through the exoskeleton, no muss, no flush. And chuggy pigs chug water not only through mouthparts but also through rear parts. The aforementioned posterior uropod acts as a tube to absorb moisture, which makes me wonder: If a roly poly rolls into a sloppy honky tonk and sits on a bar where spirits have spilled, will he get woodlousy drunk? If you want to conduct an experiment to find out, use a healthy specimen. Avoid sickly ones who’re bright blue or purple when they have a virus and feel puny.

The roly poly, beloved by children who giggle as he marches up and down their arms, is looked upon with loathing by most serious gardeners. He’s gotten bad press and is accused of vandalizing green houses and gardens. He frequents well watered soil and is partial to moist mulch since he needs moisture to breathe through his gills but can’t live in water like his aquatic cousins. Gardens and greenhouses solve his dilemma and provide shade and soft leaves to nestle into. “Ha!” says a gardener, pointing to chewed up foliage. Doodlebug advocates say they’ll eat soft seedlings but eat mostly decayed foliage and can’t chew stalks of healthy plants. “Ha!” says you know who, but a study at UC Davis by an entomology professor proves roly polies climb up plant stalks at night to devour stink bug eggs, and it’s the stinkers who are the culprits in the pillaged plant case. The professor recommends encouraging roly polies as stink bug protection without pesticides and elicits silence from the master gardener.

I’d love to believe the accused has been exonerated but can claim only that innocence is a possibility. My little buddy is a quiet, unassuming guy. He doesn’t spread diseases or damage wood or structure and can alert homeowners to dampness. He’s even a good, albeit short term, pet. A roly poly farm in a terrarium has cheap livestock, ye haw! The farm requires moisture, limited light and little upkeep. Feeding is like making a tiny compost pile of over ripe fruit and veggies, decayed grass and bits of cardboard. Fresh lettuce and bits of apples are appreciated by the inhabitants who can entertain children without requiring technology, refreshing in our techno-centered culture. As for me, I’ll let doodlebugs do as they like outdoors, though I‘m still literally tickled to pick one up and let him run over my skin. Doodlebug, roly poly, long may you roll! 

Lucile admits it’s a little creepy to think of having shrimp or crabs crawling on her, but she believes roly polies just rolled off a weird family tree and shouldn’t be judged by their relatives. She points out that plenty of us have weird family trees, too, and plans to continue her warm relationship with the doodlebug colony in her yard in Vicksburg, Ms.