We can outweigh our disappointment from not encountering a monster by looking at the real centipedes, what they do and how they live, because it is here where the real excitement of the discovery resides.

The most readily encountered are the scolopendrid, also known as the giant, or desert, centipedes. There are 28 described species of these 42-legged centipedes known to occur in Western Australia.

These are also my favourites, not only because they are big and often quite colourful and hence photogenic, but because of their interesting behaviours like their maternal care. Scolopendrid centipedes guard and otherwise take care of their eggs with some species taking care even of the newly hatched offspring.

They are also the fiercest predators of all centipedes. Simply put, scolopendrid centipedes are quite astonishing.

The world’s largest centipede, the over 30-centimetre long Amazon giant centipede (Scolopendra gigantea) from Central and South America, belongs here. It is known to catch bats in flight by hanging by its hind legs, upside down, from a ceiling at the cave entrance and grabbing by its front legs the bats flying in or out of the cave. If this is not an amazing feat conceived by an invertebrate brain, then nothing is.

The largest Australian centipede, at about half of the gigantea size, is still a sizable creature, as there are not many 16-centimetre-long terrestrial invertebrates one can readily encounter in the Australian bush.

All centipedes are predatory flesh eaters consuming primarily invertebrates, but reptiles, frogs, birds and small mammals are all known to feature on the scolopendrid centipede menu.

It is not a one-way road though; it is a two-way exchange of proteins.

As much as other critters are on the centipede menu, centipedes are on the menu of many animals large and small. Fish, reptiles, frogs, birds and mammals are all known to consume centipedes, as are the ground beetles, ants, spiders, and scorpions.

One group of arthropods also known to consume centipedes are the centipedes themselves. It can be between different species, or cannibalistic and can happen even among the closest of relatives.

But to return to the centipede diet. During the 40 years I have been photographing Australian wildlife I have made two exceptionally interesting observations of scolopendrid centipedes in action. The first one I regrettably can only describe, but not illustrate. But the second one, which is significantly more remarkable, I fortunately can, as without photographic evidence no chilopodologist (zoologist specializing in centipedes) would ever believe it.

While searching for nocturnal creatures in the Kimberley, I came to an overhang under which lay a large, but quite emaciated King Brown (Pseudechis australis) snake. I started photographing it without at first noticing that the snake was being simultaneously attacked by a large, though miniature in comparison, centipede. The centipede was actually in the process of ringbarking the snake’s tail on which it was hanging. When I noticed this behaviour, I immediately realised that it was vastly more interesting than the pictures of the snake itself.

Although the centipede was doggedly performing its daredevil’s act, I could not get close enough to the snake’s tail, as I did not want to be bitten even by a wasted King Brown. And the snake was reluctant to move, likely being too weak and finding ‘safety’ under the overhang irresistible. The photographic proof I have is unfortunately unpublishable, so, I have to be satisfied with a picture of the scolopendrid centipede overpowering a gecko, which I took near Sandfire Roadhouse. It is worthwhile noting that in both instances the centipedes were biting and injecting their venom into the reptiles’ tails. 

The second occasion when I caught a centipede so to say in flagrante, or according to our textbooks behaving in an un-centipede-like manner, was when I was looking for nocturnal creatures in a flowering coastal heath east of Albany. While photographing some pollinating moths I spotted something that made me absolutely baffled—a centipede feasting on a eucalyptus flower. 

This was a true discovery, a behaviour that had never before been observed. There are in the technical literature few notes about centipedes consuming foodstuffs other than flesh, such as fruits, butter, or coconut, but these observations were of captive centipedes. It means that these food items were presented to the centipede by people. After all, how else would a wild centipede get an opportunity for consuming butter? It is a well-known fact to every zookeeper that you can entice captive animals to eat something they would not readily consume under natural conditions. You leave it in the cage long enough for a bored, captive animal to play with and it will eventually try to eat it. 

Mine was a completely different story. This was a wild centipede, photographed in the wild, feasting on flower nectar.I took a series of similar pictures of this centipede poking its head into eucalypt flower nectaries. Under no circumstances did I want to disturb it, so I waited to find out what its next move would be. After some time, it quite abruptly withdrew its head and then climbed rapidly to another flower where it resumed its feeding. I could not photograph it there, as that particular flower was partly obscured by the foliage. So, I waited and hoped that it would pick, for me, a more accessible flower. But as it was visiting flower after flower it instead retreated further and further away from me; shine of my headlamp being the likely culprit.

I suspect that this centipede was not just a nectar thief, but that it actually might have been a pollinator. It must have picked up a lot of pollen on its many legs and the underbelly, as it crawled on the anthers, which it then fairly likely deposited on the stigma, as it slid over it in its search for more nectar. Nectar thief or pollinator, it doesn’t really matter; this was the most incredible encounter with a centipede I have ever had.