Too many to recount
As a youngster I had a rather alternative menagerie of 'pets'. I was in to insects mainly and the odd bite here and there was only to be expected. Had a few praying mantises and they don't let go without some persuasion.

But the best attack I remember was when I reared my first silk moth. Dad came home with some funny looking things in a plastic container. Eggs. Hatched in to caterpillars which I dutifully collected various leaves for.

All very exciting (well I thought so), but the best was yet to come. These things pupated and then after a couple of weeks hatched out into these initially grubby bloated moths which promptly found an obliging twig which I had set up for them and inflated their wings. As a youngster I found it fascinating and watched the whole process for a couple of hours.

Thing is the moths have a large surplus of fluid which they ordinarily just eject out of their ass when their wings are dried and they are not poked about by an eight year old boy. When they ARE poked about by an eight year old boy however, they are able to shoot this excess with an unexpectedly high level of accuracy at their assailants.

So there I am with a load of moth jism streaming down my face and two parents pissing themselves with laughter. Mum didn't laugh the next day though when I put a fresh hatchling on the lounge curtains. Didn't come out in the wash, but it quickly became irrelevant as my sister's guinea pigs ate the bottom six inches off of the curtains the following night.
(mersault, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:03, Reply)