Mostly me and several assistants over the years.”
“Is blaberus native to Brazil?” Duncan asked.
“As far as I know, yes,” Azevedo said. “However, I can think of no reason that would limit their distribution, other than the fungus. It’s probably what keeps their population in check and why no one else has observed them.”
“Really, none?” Boyd said, smiling. “So, I’m like one of only a couple of people in the entire world to have seen them in the wild?”
“Again, as far as I know, yes. Just look at the map and see the distribution I’ve uncovered. These were done over many years. Although I can’t be certain each of my sightings was of the same colony, the colony size was similar, and I found them on dry land under rotting tree branches and debris. Although I didn’t actually observe this, my working assumption is that they forage for insects and animal carcasses.”
“They’re carnivorous?” Boyd said.
Azevedo suddenly rose from his chair and left the room.
“Was it something I said?” Boyd whispered.
“Fernando?” Duncan called softly. From the next room, they heard sounds of drawers opening and closing. A moment later and the portly Azevedo returned to his desk carrying a vintage wood specimen box with a glass top. Azevedo set it on the desk between them and remained standing. Duncan and Boyd stood as well, leaning across the desk to get a better view. Inside the box were two of the insects. One was dissected dorsally and the other ventrally. The specimens were about three and a half inches long, and the body was roughly three inches in circumference. On the ventral specimen, Azevedo had pinned the wings at the corners to form a triangle with their attachment behind the head.
“One thing we know is that females produce eggs that hatch within their bodies but aren ’ t nourished by the female ’ s body,” Azevedo said. “Unfortunately, whenever I located a colony—which because I was unable to tag them could have been the same colony at various locations— the colonies did not stay in one place for long, so I haven’t been able to study their behavior with any consistency.”
“But you were able to collect specimens and dissect them,” Boyd said. Looking at the specimen box, he added, “Outwardly, they’re similar in appearance to cockroaches, yet they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.”
“They aren’t like anything you’ve seen and be grateful they aren’t.”
“Why’s that?” Boyd asked.
“They would be a formidable predator if they reproduced in numbers, but the fungus causes about eighty percent mortality in juveniles. We discovered this when we put a juvenile’s central nervous system under a microscope.”
Looking closely at the specimen with the outstretched wings, Boyd asked, “Can they fly?”
“I don’t think so, but I have seen them jump,” Azevedo said. “They spread their wings and use their powerful hind legs to get airborne. It may be that they can glide and perhaps travel longer distances in a strong wind. But that’s just conjecture.”
“This was from a live specimen?” Duncan asked about the dissections.
“Yes. We actually had several live specimens, but they did not live long in captivity.”
“I assume you tried to publish this,” Duncan said.
“Of course, but, you know, these days you have to pay a lot to be published.”
“Did you try the online publications?”
Azevedo seemed annoyed at the question and ignored it.
“As I was saying, this is similar to the mechanism of Ophiocordyceps unliateralis that can infect the brains of carpenter ants in the Zona da Mata of Brazil. They ’ re not the same fungus species, but they ’ re related. In any case, I believe this prevents the species from reproducing effectively. That probably explains why we ’ ve never encountered a colony with more than fifty or so individuals.”
Azevedo handed Duncan a lighted magnifying glass and opened the specimen case.