Flat-backed millipede

The flat-backed millipede (genus: polydesmus) is supposed to be quite common in Europe but I would consider it rather elusive here in Malaysia. The cylindrical-shaped millipede of all sizes is commoner. Because the flat-backed millipede is flat, it's easy to mistake it for a centipede. But it's not. For one thing, millipedes have four legs to a segment, unlike centipedes with two legs per segment. For all the extra legs, millipedes trip over themselves and move much slower than centipedes. And they are harmless: they don't bite and their defence mechanism is to release a secretion when disturbed. Even then, the secretion is harmless to humans and will only stain the fingers.

The first and last time that I ever saw the flat-backed millipede was in August last year while climbing the hill at Bukit Mertajam. I haven't seen it since then on the mainland or the island. So I was quite lucky to come across this arthropod on Monday at Cameron Highlands. My son spotted it first and alerted me.


At first, I was quite confused. This millipede didn't look like a typical flat-backed. Okay, the back was flat, the train-like creature was crawling slowly but it looked like a small double-decker bus sprouting twice the number of legs. Long legs. Not quite all right to my mind. A mutation of nature? So I went in closer. Ahha ... now I understood why. That's no mutation of nature, that's a result of nature. Love was stirring in the crisp morning air. The mating season was in full bloom. There were actually two of them and they were having their bit of millipede fun, the way that only millipedes can. The smaller male was clasped on top of the longer female's back. Nothing could disturb their tight embrace. Oh, the lovers! Even when I toppled over the two millipedes, the male simply hung on dearly to its larger companion, clinging on even closer, shielding her with his back. It was so clear that there was only a chemistry and a single-minded purpose to their lives at this point. Of course, they couldn't - or wouldn't - roll up into a ball. They couldn't do that; it would've spoilt their moment, the pinnacle of their very existence. Within seconds, the female had righted itself and wandered away with the male still on its back. I let them go. I couldn't bear to attempt to tear them apart again. I've no heart to disturb them further. I decided to leave them to their peace, free to express the animal in them. They deserved their own privacy to live out their arthropodal esctasy away from the prying public eye.