We walked all morning in the Corsican sun, enjoying a fresh breeze from the sea. The path was kind underfoot, changing from small stones to fine gravel and back again. We had reached that rhythm where you rely on instinct to look down at the path in front of you.
A praying mantis was on the path. I stopped to take a photograph.
I held it in the viewfinder as it walked on. To my surprise another mantis appeared from behind and to the right.
The first mantis was surprised too . . .
I don’t know enough about the life of the praying mantis to know whether this was sex, a meal or just plain aggression.
Whatever brought it on, the triumph of the ‘victor’ was self-evident.
(Images by Bill Whateley)