Millipede Mound—Part 1

Shortly after completing my 1:250 scale model Khufu pyramid (the Great Pyramid at Giza), I found a millipede curled around its peak. I was startled to see it there. Millipedes do not normally seek heights. They grovel around in the dirt or hide under stones, eating dead plant material. What was this guy doing, poised way up on the peak of my pyramid?
What had inspired it to climb the mighty pyramid—some 30 times its size, something equivalent to a human scaling an eight-story building? Was it seeking enlightenment? Was it compulsively drawn by the mystical power of my pyramid?

A day or two went buy and the millipede did not move. Was it still alive? Had it clambered up Mount Pyramid, only to expire at the summit? The mystery deepened. I have heard of pyramidical cults that perpetuate the belief that pyramids possess perplexing powers and energy fields. Had this millipede succumbed to my pyramid's mystical powers? Had it somehow been compelled to ascend the structure, seeking some kind of release from its mundane, muddy existence?

And had it really expired, or was it being held in suspended animation by the pyramid's magical energy field? Was it maybe now marinated at the peak, rather like a pharaoh's mummy—preserved for posterity?

I felt driven to understand this phenomenon better, so I engaged in some internet searches on millipedes. These critters are an arthropod (an insect with a jointed body, with two or more legs on each joint). It is closely related to the pill millipede—or sow bug—which is much smaller, and rolls into a ball when frightened or threatened (looking like a pill). The millipede is slow moving and defends itself by its noxious smell and bright color.

How does one distinguish a millipede from a centipede? No it's not 1,000 versus 100 legs, but (1) a centipede moves much faster (my millipede was extremely slow), (2) it is carnivorous (whereas a millipede eats rotten vegetation), and (3) centipedes have only two legs per segment, rather than four. Thank goodness; now I know I don't have to count hundreds of legs to tell them apart.
More on millipede heaven next time...