Sydney Life

I can already hear your groans – "Liisa, this joke is lame, we know the answer, the fact that we already know the answer does not, as it occasionally does, make the joke any funnier. In fact, it means we cannot even let out one involuntary snort of derision upon hearing the answer. You know what, spare us the pain of the punch line, we’ll pretend you never asked the question. Just don’t say S-T-I-…"

But I’m looking back at you with a rather surprised expression on my face. How did you know what stick insect poo looks and feels like?

I actually haven’t ever touched the excrement of my stick insects, but they are a sort of dull brown colour. My single sheet of stick-insect-info informs me that their poos are “small, hard, and smell mildly of eucalyptus, making regular cleaning of their tank unnecessary.” So they’re not literally brown and sticky. But they’re one of the key reasons why stick insects are the ideal university-student pet.

I was given a pair of tiny stick insects for my 18th birthday this year. They were tiny, and – because they looked quite similar – were both named ‘Seth’ by a Seth who happened to be around at the time. From the very first moment I looked into their beady little eyes (one at a time; their eyes are set at ridiculous angles, so you can’t look at them simultaneously) I knew it was love.

If you want to be finnicky, 'The Seths' are actually spiny leaf insects; but petty terminology aside, they make the ideal uni-student-pet for two main reasons:
1. They are low maintenance.
2. See point one (cliché I know, but it just can't be over-emphasised)

Looking after them basically entails a weekly change of their [low-scented] gum, rose, or blackberry leaves. Occasionally, if you are feeling particularly energetic, you can clean out the bottom of their tank as well. Thanks to their somewhat limited diet, this isn't an odious task.

Basically, the effort you put in is considerably less than the satisfaction you'll get out of these pets. Hours of entertainment are ready-made as you watch them sway in the entirely non-existent breeze. You can just see their tiny brains working: 'I'm a leaf. A leaf! You know, those things that sway in the breeze. I am a swaying leaf. Yeah. I'm invisible.'

And they shed, people! When I got them, they were about half the size of my pinky finger. Now, they're both about 12cm long. Spiny leaf insects shed several times in the course of their 18-month life. The shedding process, combined with the post-shedding-eating-of-skin, makes for nature viewing that David Attenborough would be proud to document.

Finally, 'The Seths' provide me with a kind of zen. After a tough day at Uni, nothing could be more relaxing then having one of them crawl over your hands. Come to think of it, it works pretty well at the completion of a tough blog as well.

Peace out, future insect lovers!