Long deemed hideous and unlovable, it’s time our native insects had an electoral uprising. But who deserves your vote? Marcia Welch investigates the candidates for the newly announced Bug of the Year.

When wētāpunga (our giant wētā) translates to “the god of ugly things” you know you’ve got a serious PR problem on your hands. And if you’ve ever seen a close-up photo of an ant, you know that’s a face only a mother could love. But against all odds, the Entomological Society has hit us with yet another election. Move over Bird of the Year, the bug memes are coming.

With 24 candidates to choose from, Bug of the Year aims to get you curious about Aotearoa’s native critters or at least have you feeling less repulsed by the thought of anything with more than four legs. 

With the help of iNaturalist, a network of bug-frothers and citizen scientists, you can now find out exactly what you’re looking at instead of swatting it to death on the nearest hard surface. This is exactly what we need in a world where people don’t know their arachnids from their coleopterans. It’s time to get acquainted. 

Chorus cicada

Cicadas are like New Zealand’s version of Michael Bublé, missing for most of the year but emerging from the ground in December to let us know it’s almost Christmas. Or, in our case, the start of summer. It’s a chorus more iconic than any Dave Dobbyn song, and our Kiwi summer wouldn’t be a slice of heaven without it.

Ngaro huruhuru – native bee 

This bee is the epitome of sustainability. You’ll see her at your local farmers market, choosing mānuka and kānuka flowers over anything imported. She has a 10-acre block, grows her own vegetables and sells sourdough. Most importantly, she advocates for organic produce – without the pesticides killing her kind.

Kapowai – Carové’s giant dragonfly 

Almost 10cm long and equipped for any adventure, the giant dragonfly is an adrenaline junkie. From winged wrestling matches to taking prey on the wing, don’t be surprised if they pick up an endorsement from Red Bull. 

New Zealand praying mantis 

With its tiny waist, ample booty and powerful front legs – the praying mantis is the envy of the bug world. Hobbies include looking at their own reflection, creating content for OnlyFans and occasionally dabbling in sexual cannibalism.

Homer grasshopper 

The Homer grasshopper is a sucker for punishment, choosing to live in a place that sees Aotearoa’s highest rainfall, lowest sunshine hours and occasional avalanches: Fiordland. Only a few will appreciate the risks we introverts take to seek solitude. 

Canterbury knobbled weevil 

Declared extinct in 1922, this weevil rose from the dead to make a miraculous comeback at the turn of the century. Like any proud Cantabrian he’ll weigh your social standing based on what high school you went to, but we can forgive him because he’s critically endangered.

Helms’s stag beetle 

While the stag horn-looking pincers are said to give these huge beetles their name, the real reason is their infamous bachelor parties. Nocturnal antics include getting drunk on tree sap, dangling off tree trunks and naked wrestling matches. The next day you’ll find them nursing a hangover under a log or leaf litter, evading the pigs and rats that see them as an easy snack.

Namu – sand fly 

Likely the most hated bug in Aotearoa, a sand fly’s fetish for blood drives every summer camper up the wall. Actually it’s only the females that bite and use your blood for protein for their eggs. While annoying, is it any different from that steak you had for dinner last night? At least you’re still alive.

North Island lichen moth (aka zebra moth)

Elegant and evasive, this moth’s coat makes every fashion designer envious. They use it to fade seamlessly into the surrounding lichen and to hide from Cruella Deville. Everything the lichen moth wears is organic, vegan and ethically sourced – no puppy skinning necessary.

Robust grasshopper 

Built like the proverbial brick house, don’t be fooled by the robust grasshopper’s impressive exterior. He’s a lover, not a fighter – which isn’t particularly helpful when you’re the equivalent of crack cocaine for stoats, rats and hedgehogs. Perhaps all that bulk is to compensate for his stumpy wings, which make landing any impressive jump rather embarrassing. 

Prickly stick insect 

Prickly stick insects have adopted an extreme version of feminism. The entire population is female, and they reproduce asexually. They know that if you want a job done right – you have to do it yourself. Prickly in appearance and character, their spines not only offer protection from predators, they serve to ward off her therapists’ probing questions.

Tunga rere – huhu beetle 

The audacity of a huhu beetle smacking you in the face is enough to turn even a pacifist to violence. But a fiend for a flame, if you were sitting on your deck at night with the lights on, let’s be honest, you were asking for it. These harmless, delightfully clumsy beetles are the final life stage of the huhu grub, a well known traditional food source for iwi. 

Wētāpunga 

The kākāpō of the bug world, this bad boy needs no introduction. Eaten to extinction on the mainland, these giant wētās now only survive on offshore predator-free islands. 

Lemon Tree Borer Wasp 

If you learn anything from the borer wasp, it’s to work smarter, not harder. Rather than feed their own young, females deposit their eggs inside a beetle grub host. Once they emerge, the hungry larva eat the beetle inside out. While gruesome, you can’t deny their ingenuity.

Click here to vote. Voting closes 14 February 2023.