I was standing on the verge beneath an oak tree when an insect dropped on to my bare arm. At first glance I thought it was a lacewing, but on closer inspection, something about it didn’t look quite right. A quick Google search revealed it was an oak snakefly (Phaeostigma notata), a bizarre insect you’ve probably never heard of. They are rarely encountered and under-recorded, not because they’re endangered, but because they’re arboreal and tend to stay hidden high in the canopy, or tucked away in bark cracks and crevices. But wind or heavy rain, like the gusty downpour we’d had that morning, can send them to lower levels.
It looked like a composite of insect body parts – a broad, flattened ant’s head, a housefly’s large compound eyes, spidery legs and damselfly-like wings with intricate venation. The presence of a formidable-looking long, needle‑like ovipositor indicated that this individual was female. Most unique was her elongated neck-like pronotum, which, when she reared up at the approach of my finger, gave her the appearance of a cobra poised to strike. It’s this distinctive feature that gives these fantastical creatures their colloquial name.
