This is a June Bug that Mister saw and rescued from the pool. The little guy is actually a nice size – about an inch in length. His iridescence is lovely and I almost can’t stand how gorgeous he is.
When I was a kid, we would try to catch June Bugs. When we did, which wasn’t always, we’d tie a thread to one of the poor critter’s legs and hold the end of the thread while the tethered bug flew round and round. It never occurred to us that our pastime was cruel to the June Bugs, I admit. To our credit, once we’d bored of that activity (or the poor bug’s leg broke off), we would set the bug free. We simply weren’t kids who smushed bugs.
I don’t know why southern folks called these little guys June Bugs. And to be clear, the ones I grew up with were slightly less green than the variety shown above. If I’m being proper (why start now?), I have to tell you the specimen in the photo is actually a Fig Beetle, which is what we have here in California. But to me, he’s a June Bug. Even if it is August.
When I visited an equestrian event during the recent Special Olympics, I experienced a June Bug incident. I was sitting in the stands, watching the riders in the ring. Suddenly I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. I turned to see a lady wearing a shirt that read “Argentina.” She said, “Be still. There’s a bug about to crawl on you.” She began swatting near my assular region, and I looked over my shoulder. I saw a beautiful, large June Bug by my bum. The woman was quite concerned as I said, “Oh! That’s just a June Bug. He’s harmless. They like me. See?” At that, the June Bug crawled up my arm, and made himself comfortable. The Argentinian lady was not calmed, however, so I stood up, climbed a few steps to the open air outside the Equidome and sent the June Bug flying. Finally – the lady from afar seemed content. We both settled in and watched the event. But I have to tell you – I don’t think that lady was actually afraid of the June Bug. As I remember it, even after that little beetle was happily crawling up my arm, that lady was still swiping at my derriere. Maybe that’s how ladies meet ladies in Argentina. I guess I’ll never know.