ANNALS OF THE GREAT MITE FITE OF 2024:
The whirligig arrived on the scene first. Large, dextrous, and hungry, it immediately caught sight of the largely immobile fly larvae blanketing the underside of the plains of rotting oak. It made quick work of one, only taking a moment to dance a perfunctory circle around the nearest before it readily snatched up the soft larva. The other larvae remained unbothered and insensate, continuing to squirm ineffectually as the mite happily drank down their sibling, content with its nutritious catch. Whirligigs are voracious predators, and they will eat just about anything they can catch, their name coming from a characteristic acrobatic movement pattern that gives them a competitive edge over any prey. Their long legs and speedy stride more than make up for their smaller mouthparts and softer abdomens, but hunting in such a manner consumes a great deal of energy, and they must find food often to stay sated. For now, this one needn’t worry about searching out a meal; it was surrounded by dozens of ready-to-eat bags of protein.
While the whirligig's hunt was over, the bdellid's had just begun.
Emerging from a crevice, a smaller mite, this one easily distinguished by long, piercing mouthparts forming a formidable “snout”, arrived to survey the scene, cooly strutting through the plain of larvae and mold. As it wove through microscopic wooden mountains, It would regard the larvae with disinterest, only approaching so close before it would turn to give them a wide berth and continue on its meandering way. Clearly, it found the tiny, wormlike things an inadequate meal. It was in search of larger prey.
The whirligig had no reaction as the smaller mite first approached, perhaps too engrossed in its meal to notice, perhaps confident in its ability to evade any danger if needed. The bdellid perched some millimeters away from the whirligig at first, then rushed forward, knocking the larva from the larger mite’s jaws. It attempted to immediately strike, a missed blow as the whirligig darted back, speedier limbs propelling it far away in an instant.
However, taken by surprise and given only a millisecond to make its egress, the mite had picked a dangerous escape route -- as it fled, the whirligig ran afoul of a single line of an errant spiderweb. Bad luck.
The bdellid -- perhaps used to cornering entangled prey, as some of their clade produce their own silk lines for hunting -- took immediate advantage of the larger mites vulnerability, circling around to the back to avoid a bite and sinking its mouthparts into its broad idiosoma. The whirligig struggled, kicking its long legs in defense, but with silk hindering its range, the long “snout” of the bdellid could jab in for a bite while it remained well out of range of any defensive blows.
While it had been distracted by escaping the silk line, it had already been repeatedly punctured by the bdellid's sharpened mouthparts. Its carapace was no longer intact, and the continuous bath of hemolymph maintaining its vital organs had slowed its circulation. Even without the continued strikes from its pernicious companion, it could not survive for long. The whirligig continued to valiantly thrash with the last of its strength, but the fight was over. The bdellid had already settled in behind the larger mite, gnathostome projecting into the unlucky victim’s abdomen to begin drinking in nutritive hemolymph. With their battle concluded, the log was rolled back over, and the bdellid was left to its meal, the half-eaten fly larva long forgotten.
