Kneeling at the edge of your raised bed, you push aside foliage, searching for more garden pests. Your eyes are zipping around with a predator's narrowed focus, searching for any sign of a tasty grasshopper, pill bug or beetle. [huh? "tasty?"] Leaves brush against your forehead, tickling the skin and leaving behind a green hue to match the color that continues to spread upward from your hands, still unnoticed. With your head and torso buried in tomato plants, you fail to realize that your butt has begun pulsing, pushing backwards, expanding and elongating even as two nubs push out of its sides. Thin and spindly, they rapidly grow, matching the length of your legs and supporting the new weight of your segmented rear. You don't even notice a change in balance, everything happening at exactly the right time to keep you steady and focused on your hunt.
You do notice as your knees twinge though, probably getting sore from kneeling on the ground. Just as you're about to pull back to standing, you spot a well-camouflaged grasshopper chowing-down on the leaf of your cucumber plant! Your eyes enlarge, your pupils narrowing to two tiny pinpricks as your zero-in on your prey. Something twitches in the leaves above your head and the grasshopper freezes, but you snap it up lightning-fast with your arms, using both hands to bring the unlucky bug towards your face. Before you can think, you bite the grasshopper's head off, chewing and swallowing with relish. You've heard they're a good source of protein, eaten around the world, so instead of finding this new action strange, you shrug it off.