Category: Big Insects

  • El Chapulín, Polanco, México

    El Chapulín, Polanco, Ciudad de México

    Where can you have an authentic Méxican meal, get a great night’s rest, and stare in open-mouthed wonder at an incredible Big Thing, all in the same place? Right here at the Presidente InterContinental Hotel in Mexico City’s trendy Polanco district – home to the beautiful and historic El Chapulín.

    That’s ‘The Grasshopper’ for you gringos. ¡Buen provecho!

    El Chapulín started life as the logo for what was originally known as the Presidente Chapultepec Hotel, and was designed by American artiste Lance Wyman in 1975. Chapultepec means ‘hill of grasshoppers’ in the ancient Aztec language, so it wasn’t a huge leap to settle on a giant insect.

    Having previously worked on the iconography for the 1968 Olympics and the Mexico City Metro, Lance brought a touch of class to the emblem, whilst celebrating the vibrant personality of this cheeky chap(ulín).

    The minimalist logo was so moving that, not only did the owners slather a 15-metre version of it across the top of the hotel, but also placed an immense stone rendition at the front door to greet customers.

    By the way, do you need to tip the doorman if he’s a two-tonne Aztec grasshopper?

    “I designed the hotel grasshopper using forms found in the Aztec period,” Lance explained. “When the hotel changed ownership it used a new logo. I remember feeling sad the first time I flew into Mexico City and the 15-meter grasshopper was no longer on top of the hotel.”

    Heartbreak, however, soon turned to hoppiness. Whilst the logo atop the building was removed, the stone statue of El Chapulín was saved. He soon moved to his current location in a courtyard opposite the Jardín Winston Churchill.

    Thanks, Lance – your work is Chapul-íncredible!

    They should’ve called him Dennis Hopper!

    So beloved is El Chapulín that there’s even a restaurant, right next to the statue, named in his honour. Serving traditional comida Méxicana, Chapulín is famous for its picaditas de camarón en salsa verde, pollo estilo Sinaloa, and ceviche verde de pescado.

    Bizarrely, the restaurant serves neither jalapeño hoppers nor Grasshopper cocktails. When I demanded an answer from the waitress, all I got was crickets. On the plus side, the restaurant’s very clean, so they’ll have no trouble with the health insectors.

    When I tore Mexico’s elite away from their meals to tell them those pithy one-liners, they started bugging out. I guess my hilarity’s lost in translation.

    “Mmmmm, this tostada de jaiba reminds me of my youth on the streets of Guadalajara,” I gibbered to my mí amiga, Bigella. I paused to elegantly wipe salsa macha from my chin. “I’d rise at dawn to shine shoes all day, just to earn enough dinero to buy a simple carne apache de atún madurado sobre tres piezas de tuétano.”
    “I thought you grew up in a waterfront bungalow in Vaucluse?” she responded.
    “Honestly,” I sighed, “my backstory changes so often that even I don’t remember anymore.”

    There was an uneasy silence. The two of us stared longingly at El Chapulín as we munched away on our perfectly-prepared postres. Helado de mangos con crema for myself. Pastel de queso a la leña con compota de frutos rojos for Bigella.

    “By the way, Bigella,” I said, jabbing an ice cream-sticky finger at her belly. “I’ve been meaning to ask about…”
    “Too many quesadillas,” Bigella snapped.
    “It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened that night in Andorra?”
    “Too many quesadillas.”
    “I told you, I was overcome by lust after visiting The Ponderer.”
    “Too. Many. Quesadillas.”

    Somewhere, in Parque Chapultepec, a loon cried out on the lake.

  • Lenny the LGBee, Manchester, England

    Lenny the LGBee, Manchester, England, United Kingdom

    Cute, camp and draped in the rainbow hues of the pride flag, Lenny the LGBee should be the queen of Manchester’s buzzing gay community. Sadly, when I arrived for our playdate, this not-so-creepy crawly was locked within a cage of his own sexual and genderial repression.

    Honestly, it would be honey if it wasn’t so tragic.

    Lenny can be found in a quiet corner of Sackville Gardens in the seductive Gay Village, where the city’s effervescent gay, trans, non-binary, intersex, and furry folk congregate. There’s even a statue dedicated to renowned homosexual and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, Alan Turing – yas, queen, he who inspired the nearby Manchester Lamps.

    To reach the Gardens, sashay your way down Canal Street, head past A Monument to Vimto, and take a left at the public toilet. During the day the park is a great place to play fris-bee with a blue-haired omnisexual with a fluro g-string and xi/xim pronouns – hi, Crispin! – but becomes a real hive of activity after dark.

    Not that I’d know anything about that – teehee!

    A statue as grand as Lenny should be honey to the bee for any Bigs fans. When myself, Bigella, Gordon and Gideon the Guacamole visited, however, we found him gazing longingly at his fellow gays from betwixt the bars of his steel cage of oppression, tears of ignominy cascading down his chubby little cheeks.

    Insecurity and societal pressure had forced him to bow to the toxic whims of heteronomativity. But how did a would-bee gay icon find himself in such a perilous position?

    There’s No Place Like Honeycomb

    Lenny is a handsome, unique creature, but he’s just one of more than a hundred similar bees that spread their wings across Manchester as part of the 2018 Bee in the City Festival. Delightfully detailed one and all, none have captured the imagination quite like Lenny.

    He was installed by some of the area’s brawnier transmen during a weekend-long working bee, and revealed to a curious public in a ceremony attended by prominent pollenticians, wrestler Sting and Land of the Bigs reader/astronaut Buzz Aldrin.

    Hard rock group The Bee Gees even sang their hit single, Stayin’ A-Hive.

    “The LGBTQ+ Bee design is a symbol of LGBT Pride,” local chap Carl Austin-Behan bee-med. “The legacy and poignancy of Alan Turing’s life is mirrored in the eyes of this beautiful Bee. Street names and landmarks tell the story of the Bee’s new home at the heart of the Village. This sculpture inspires us to accept, embrace and celebrate life in all its glorious forms. The ultimate message is love is love.”

    Bee’s here, bee’s queer, get used to it! But it would take someone with a special talent – not just for finding Big Things, but for helping semi-closeted insects negotiate the labyrinthine alleyways of the sexuality spectrum – to make Lenny believe that.

    The Emancipation of Lenny the LGBee

    With the cold metal wires of cishet indoctrination rising like a wall of self-flagellation between Lenny and his community, I looked the bee-hemoth in the eyes and presented him with a sad, knowing smile.

    “Look, babe, you can’t stay inside that cage of philosophical constraint forever,” I cooed. “I hope that one day you can be as comfortable with your gender-bending sexual fluidity as I am with my rugged, unbridled heterosexuality.”

    Bigella and Gordon chuckled. I assume they saw a funny-looking dog or something. Lenny simply stared at me through the steel bars.

    “Lenny,” I continued, my words carrying more weight than ever, “repeat after me because it’s affirmation time. I am valid and deserving of love and acceptance for who I truly am. My gender and sexual identity is beautiful and unique. It deserves to bee respected. I have the right to express myself authentically. I am courageous for embracing my authenticity and continuing to grow into myself.”

    Lenny mumbled the words at first, not quite bee-lieving them. Then as Bigella and Gordon and Gideon and a small collection of open-minded folk crowded around in support, his words became louder. Clearer. More robust. The real Lenny the LGBee was starting to reveal himself. And what emerged from that crysalis of emotional seclusion wasn’t just beautiful.

    It was fabulous, darling.

    By the time we left Sackville Gardens, with the ruby-red sun sinking below the adult shops and vegan cafes of Canal Street, Lenny had take his rightful place as the Queen Bee of Manchester. The Summer of Buzz, my friends, is upon us.

  • The Black Ant, Kin Kin, QLD

    The Black Ant, Kin Kin, Queensland, Australia

    Nobody wants ants to turn up during a meal, but you’ll love sharing your food with this irrepressible insect! The Black Ant was brought to life by legendary local artist Steve Weis and can be found, appropriately enough, outside the Black Ant Gourmet Cafe in the verdant Sunshine Coast Hinterland

    With his homespun charm and quirky, indigenous-inspired paintjob, The Black Ant is right at home in the rustic village of Kin Kin – which means ‘plenty of black ants’ in the local Aboriginal dialect. Sadly, the handsome chap’s eyes had fallen off shortly before I arrived, giving him an alien, dystopian veneer.

    Far from detracting from the experience, however, this merely establishes the metallic marvel as a constantly-evolving art piece, forever eroding and evolving like the surrounding hills.

    Ever the crowd-pleaser, the Black Ant was designed to be ridden by weary travellers. He boasts a comfortable – yet well-worn – saddle, allowing him to blend in with the motorbikes that are so often found in front of the cafe. A more interactive Big it’s hard to imagine.

    Those days, sadly, are behind him. The relentless Queensland sun and some overly-rambunctious admirers have left him in a delicate state. Please, I implore you not to climb atop The Big Ant, no matter how many likes you believe the resultant photo shall garner on Instagram. Insect him from a safe distance to ensure he’s able to inspire generations of Biggies for generations to come.

    The Ant is not the bulkiest citizen of the Land of the Bigs – especially compared to the massive Matilda, who lives just down the road in Traveston. But, like similarly-proportioned Big Red Bug, he has a friendly personality that renders him eminently approachable. Just don’t offer him an alcoholic beverage – you don’t want him to end up alitrunk and disorderly!

    Ants in Your Pants

    The Black Ant Cafe has been the lifeblood of Kin Kin for more than a century, originally serving as a general store. It was only when renowned chefs Richard and Kirsty Mundt took over a few years ago that it metamorphosed into the finest restaurant in the region.

    The menu is a veritable treasure trove of piquant pastas and bespoke burgers, with hearty portions sure to satisfy after a long day searching for Bigs. Best of all, many of the cafe’s arcadian tables offer panoramic views over the ant sculpture.

    As a reflection of my brawny, tough guy mystique, I treated myself to the ploughman’s lunch. The trio of cheeses were as aromatic as they were velvety, the pickles crunchy and oh-so-zesty, and the generous selection of meats to die for. I’d describe the handmade chutney, but fear I may drool all over my keyboard!

    My compatriot for this trip, Bigella Fernadez Hernandez, was so engrossed in her smoked salmon, paired with a delightfully sticky lemon meringue tart, that she was unable to find time to pose for a photo with the Black Ant. Well, that and the fact she accidentally smeared the rich tomato paste down her fresh tunic.

    As a side note, the cafe offers the most spacious, clean and well-appointed restrooms I’ve ever encountered during my travels through the Land of the Bigs. The sprawling subtropical plants and delicate selection of scented soaps provided a serene oasis for a moment of quiet reflection.

    If I could sum up my afternoon at the Black Ant Cafe in one word? Brilli-ant!

  • The Big Praying Mantids, Mt Gambier, SA

    The Big Praying Mantids, Mount Gambier, South Australia

    Praying for a handsome mantid? Then join this congregation of oversized insects, who have swarmed into the picturesque village of Mount Gambier. Or, given how many bugs and beasties are around, should that be MITE Gambier? Or even Mount Gam-bee-er – teehee!

    Local artist Ivo Tadic created the un-beetle-ievable piece in 2019 to add a splash of colour to the Mount Gambier Snail Trail… oops, make that RAIL Trail. This gorgeous walk follows the disused train tracks, and provides a stunning experience that is as breathtaking as it is educational.

    The Rail Trail is an easy stroll, although some training beforehand is recommended. Along with the massive praying mantes, you’re sure to find the giant set of railway signals raily interesting!

    Older visitors planning to trek to The Big Mantids, however, might want to take a walking stick insect. There are even a few grassy spots perfect for a quick game of cricket. Don’t worry, you won’t see any cockroaches – they live a few hours away in Lower Light.

    The Big Mantids are a joy to take photos with, as they wave their surprisingly muscular arms in the air. Yes, they’re anatomically correct and incredibly detailed, but there’s also a sense of fun that makes them a must-see on any trip to South Australia. I tell no flies when I say the craftmanship will leave you wasping in delight. They really are in a classhopper of their own!

    Although there is a mosque-ito nearby, it’s not know which religion these guys adhere to – but one thing’s for sure, they are both in sects!

    Alright, stop earwiggin’ out, fleas accept my apologies for my an-ticks!

    Livin’ on a prayer

    Ivo put moths of hard work into the cic-arduous task of building The Big Mantids, ant it was all worth it. The hues and materials were inspired by the Mount Gambian wilderness, because Ivo wanted his happy chappies to blend in with the surrounding environment.

    “Limestone is an important feature in our regional identity and the use of this material and natural colours ensures the piece sits well in this location,” Ivo explained upon unveiling his masterpiece. “The use of limestone is also good for tourism and opens the opportunity for a sculpture trail to be developed as a tourist attraction.”

    So popular have the Mantids proven, that the trail – once silent and rusting – is now completely overrun by insect-obsessed tourists. But, I suppose, that is the lesser of two weevils.

    Mount Gambier’s intelligentsia have been ensconced in heated debate regarding the hidden meaning and translucent commentary behind The Big Mantids, but Ivo – a flamboyant renegade of the Australian urban art scene – refuses to play by the rules.

    “Interpret it however you wish,” he postulated, in a move sure to kick the hornet’s nest. “It can symbolise many things, however, I created this piece because I like insects and they are a foundational layer of our ecosystem.” If only everyone admired creepy crawlies as much as you, Ivo, I wouldn’t be spending tonight alone!

    Alright, alright! I’ll give the puns a rest, so don’t bite my head off – I’m not a bloomin’ mantid!

  • The Protest Statues, Lower Light, SA

    The Protest Statues, Lower Light, South Australia

    What do we want? More Bigs!
    When do we want ’em? Now!

    When the slimeballs at the South Australian Government threatened to turn his backyard into a dump, local legend Stephen Jones fought back in the only way he knew how – with a series of increasingly bizarre Big Things.

    Throughout the 90s, the windswept stretch of road between Lower Light and Dublin welcomed a studious rat, a cantankerous blowfly, two chaps in an environmental lookout, a sturdily-constructed UFO, an aggrieved cockroach, an eerily-realistic rendition of Ned Kelly, a towering Tin Man and (all together now!) a partridge in a pear tree.

    (Yes, yes, there’s not actually a partridge in a pear tree. It’s a joke, and a pretty dadgum funny one at that, so hold back with the hate-filled emails brimming with toxic masculinity)

    Sadly, this only served as a wake-up call that building Big Things isn’t the solution to all the world’s problems. The bigwigs in Adelaide won, the junkyard went ahead, and this little slice of paradise was forever scarred. But it’s not all bad news.

    The Protest Statues have become a beloved tribute to the rebellious spirit within all South Australians. Crow Eaters marvel at them whenever they travel up the coast, and visitors are left shocked but impressed by their whimsical folly. They’re unlike any other Bigs on the planet, but seeing them is almost as challenging as understanding them.

    Aliens and rodents and flies – oh my!

    The Protest Statues can be found by the side of the bustling Port Wakefield Highway, about an hour north of Adelaide. Don’t expect a gift shop and a set of informative signs, however. Whilst they’re easy to see from the road, each effigy is tucked away on private farmland, making it difficult to nab a selfie.

    There’s not even a designated spot to pull over and park, so semi trailers will be hurtling by as you pose for a happy snap. If, like me, you’re a cutie pie with a flair for the extravagant, expect to be the target of wolf whistles and testosterone-fuelled honking from the passing traffic. Seriously, boys, save your expressions of admiration for the Big Things!

    Those who make the effort to view this absorbing assemblage are in for a treat. Each statue is quirky and provocative, with a homemade charm that’s sure to you’ll fall in love with. The environmental lookout exudes danger and mystery, making a clear statement that no assault on the planet will go unseen.

    The rat, resplendent in his spectacles and tie, serves as a thought-provoking examination of local and state politicians. Ned Kelly, despite being petite compared to his doppelgangers in Glenrowan and Maryborough, simultaneously celebrates and critiques the more vulgar aspects of the Australian psyche.

    Ironically, it’s the Tin Man who stole the heart of this Friend of Dorothy. Who doesn’t want a tall, silent, barrel-chested chap in their life?

    They’re all wonderful, but this collection truly is more than the sum of its parts. When seen together, strewn haphazardly beside a dusty stretch of freeway, the Protest Statues make a powerful statement on love and life that will have you questioning your own values and morals. These are the thinking man’s Big Things.

    Between a cockroach and a hard place

    Cockroaches, they say, shall outlive mankind. So it should come as no surprise that the most celebrated of the Protest Statues, The Big Cockroach, has taken a kickin’ and keeps on tickin’.

    (Yes, yes, I understand that cockroaches are insects whilst ticks are arachnids, and never the twain shall meet, but the joke still hits the mark. You don’t have to email me about it every week, Darryn from the Institute for the Study of EndemiC InverTebrates [INSECT]. By the way, your acronym is lous-y!)

    The Blattodean heartthrob was left to the whims of the South Australian weather, and by late-2013 he was far from his charismatic self. When, one acrid day in December of that year, the Cockroach went missing from his perch, some assumed he’d scurried off to the big nest in the sky. Many, sadly, simply didn’t care.

    But one man did care – local TV legend, and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, Andrew Costello. As a former contestant on fat-shaming weight-loss program The Biggest Loser, ‘Cosi’ knows what it’s like to be consigned to the fringes of society. For the bargain price of two slabs of beer, the loveable larrikin bought the Cockroach and had him fully restored.

    Whilst the temptation to install this delightful Big in his backyard must have been as irresistible as one of the powdered donuts he once gorged himself on, Cosi did the right thing. After a month-long residency in Adelaide’s notorious Rundle Mall – next to The Big Pigeon – the Big Cockroach was returned to his home beside the the other statues. From all of us here at Land of the Bigs, thank you, Cosi.

    The Big Cockroach might’ve had a facelift and spent time with South Australia’s entertainment elite, but don’t worry – he’s still ap-roach-able!

  • The Big Bogong Moth, Tintaldra, Vic

    The Big Bogong Moth, Tintaldra, Victoria

    The tranquil hamlet of Corryong has been besieged by a plague of colossal creatures – and the locals couldn’t be happier! Since 2018 the verdant fields beside the mighty Murray River have welcomed friendly fish, a happy yabbie and an enormous eagle as focal points of the monumental Great River Road project.

    Fearing Corryong would lose its status as a world class travel destination, the local tourism board approached me – the inimitable Bigs Bardot – for assistance.

    “Well, you could drop a few billion on a new airport, an aquatic-themed fun park, a couple of resorts the size of European countries,” I told them as we peered out upon the prairies bathed in autumnal sunlight. “Or you could…”

    “… Build a Big?” one pencil pusher cautiously replied.

    “It’s going to take more than one Big if you want to lure international visitors away from Shepparton and Wodonga. Better make it five.”

    “But what shall we build?”

    “That’s up to you – maybe look into your chrysalis ball. Now, please place my sizable consultation fee in the rear pocket of my knickerbockers – I have a date with the Big Pheasant and he doesn’t like me to be tardy.”

    That time of the moth

    The first to invade the hearts and minds of Corryongians was the Big Bogong – and tourists have been drawn to her like moths to a flame! She’s taken up residence at Jim Newman’s Lookout, is made from rusted cast-iron and is large enough to provide shelter from the sun as one gaze in wonder over the lush valleys of northern Victoria.

    It’s the little things that make this Big Thing so beaut, such as the tiny, moth-shaped cut-outs in her wings, beckoning the solar radiation within, as dust motes pirouette pleasantly in the ambiance. One can only imagine the majesty of this visage on a clear, star-filled night, as moonbeams illuminate this ancient lepidopteran.

    This area was long used as a meeting place for indigenous tribes, who would gather to dance, eat and hunt down moths. Fortunately they were slightly smaller than this shed-sized specimen, or our aboriginal chums might not have survived for 50,000 years!

    The Big Bogong Moth is dedicated to these proud people, and it’s culturally appropriate for visitors to perform a respectful, understated war dance in honour of their history.

    This moth will make you froth

    Following their work on the Big Acorns, and at my insistence, Yackandandah-based artisans Agency of Sculpture were responsible for the Big Bogong Moth and the other structures in the area. Maybe they took inspiration for another of Canberra’s most beloved Big Things, the Big Bogong Moths.

    In a few short years the Big Moth has become a cater-pillars of the community. She’s certainly worth an insection, and truly presents a cocoon with a view!

  • The Big Red Bug, Salt Ash, NSW

    The Big Red Bug, Salt Ash, New South Wales

    Port Stephens has been invaded by the largest pest in the world – and the locals couldn’t be happier! The Big Red Bug stands two metres tall and can be found rocking out at 419 Lemon Tree Passage Road.

    With his cocksure swagger and cheeky smile, this is one roadside attraction with a ’tude just as big as he is. The only thing he’s missing is a couple of legs, because he only has four. It bugs the question, what happened to the rest?

    Beetle by beetle, the Big Red Bug has burrowed his way into the community. As the mascot of Complete Pest Services, this not-so-creepy crawly is leading the battle against ticks, termites and spiders. Hopefully he’ll leave the nearby Ossie the Mossie alone!

    The Big Red Bug is certainly active, and was built onto a trailer so he can take day trips. Until recently he lived in an industrial estate in nearby Lemon Tree Passage, and I was on the verge of tears when I turned up and he was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately a big-hearted tradie settled me down with a warm embrace, and pointed me towards the Bug’s current residence.

    If not for Massoud, I mite not have found this critter at all.

    I don’t think this red rascal will be leaving his current home anytime soon, because he looks snug as a bug in a rug. He’s also within flying distance of his favourite food, the scrumptious Big Peach. You’ll never get sick of his ant-ics, so stop by for an insect-ion!

  • The Big Bogong Moths, Acton, ACT

    The Big Bogong Moths, Acton, Australian Capital Territory

    You’ll be drawn to these winged wonders like a moth to a flame! The Big Bogong Moths rest peacefully beside the Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. Based on a design by indigenous artiste Jim Williams, and crafted by Matthew Harding, they celebrate the history of the local Ngunnawal people.

    No, no, no, the Ngunnawal aren’t some sort of human-moth hybrid tribe, they simply revere bogongs – as we all should.

    There are six monstrous moths, and the concrete cuties cemented their place in the hearts of Canberrans in 2001.

    The Bogongs are best seen from the sky, but with drones banned in the area, I called up my good chum – and self-confessed Big Thing tragic – Scott Morrison, then-Prime Minister of Australia, to see if he could help out.

    “Bigs, the preservation and recording of our wonderful Big Things and roadside attractions is the most important issue facing this country,” Scotty told me in a lengthy and, at times, rambling conversation. “There’s a Black Hawk chopper out the back, do you want that?”
    “Sounds great, Scotty,” I replied. “Just as long as the propellers don’t mess up my hair!”
    “Anything for you, Bigs. Need a tank?”
    “Only if those nutters who claim the Big Banana is the oldest Big Thing keep it up!”

    Oh, how we laughed! Then Scotty and I spent a splendid afternoon visiting the nearby Big Thorny Devil, Big Coins and Big Pears.

    “Shouldn’t you be running the country rather than racing around admiring oversized roadside attractions with me?” I asked Scotty as we crawled through the Big Acorns together.
    “No, shouldn’t you be running the country rather than racing around admiring oversized roadside attractions with me?” Scotty quipped back.

    Oh, how we laughed!