Apropos pest: Is the cockroach the enemy of the state, or is it the perfect insect symbol for Nevada?

By Brendan Buhler (contact)

Thursday, Aug. 3, 2006 | 8 a.m.

Amazingly, Nevada does not have an official state insect.

We have a state fossil (ichthyosaur) and a state tartan (blue with white, red and yellow stripes). But yet there are no honors for the insect that means Nevada: the cockroach, which is, as usual, enjoying the summer.

It's perhaps the last thing newcomers expect to see in the desert, a heat-seeking but moisture-loving insect. But like us, the cockroach is an immigrant, arriving with the railroad and civilization and enjoying our comforts. As we've grown, it's thrived.

Think about it. The cockroach embodies the civic virtues of Vegas. It's tenacious, it's pro-growth, it makes its living on the margins of society and it cares not for the scorn of right-thinking people everywhere.

Besides, cockroaches outnumber us. By a lot. Billions, says William Pratt, curator of invertebrates for UNLV's Museum of Natural History. Maybe a thousand of them for each of us.

The cockroach has been around for 250 million years, and the several subspecies we're best acquainted with have spread in the footsteps of Alexander the Great, Marco Polo and Christopher Columbus, thriving on humanity's crumbs, spills, trash piles and leaky faucets.

And yes, it's true, they are more likely to survive a nuclear war than we are, says Joe Kunkel, a biology professor at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Kunkel has studied cockroaches since the early 1960s and says that roach cells divide only once every seven days, which means the radiation from a nuclear blast would kill only one-seventh of their population (heat, blast and intensity would affect this number).

Vertebrates like us, with our continuously replicating cells, would perish. Cockroaches and other invertebrates would inherit the Earth.

"But, you know, if you step on a cockroach, you kill it," says Kunkel.

So until then, no need to fear. And besides, Nevada's nuclear history makes the cockroach all the more appropriate an icon.

The only hard part about anointing the cockroach the "state insect of Nevada" should be picking a species.

While there are several native species of cockroach, they've never been as supportive of the growth of humankind as the so-called pest species. The most dominant of these species in the valley are the large Turkestan roaches and American roaches, as well as the midsized German roaches. And while all of those species originated abroad - Afghanistan, Africa and India, respectively - we'll probably have to pick the American roach. Sounds more patriotic.

So where to start?

"We have an insect gap, huh?" says Ron James, the state historical preservation officer. "Well, OK, ask a legislator."

State symbols are one of those vital functions of government that legislators like to be in charge of. They can make anything a symbol, even the cockroach. Or, rather, they could, if they only had the will. The two we contacted did not.

Sen. Joe Heck, R-Henderson, pleaded that he's allowed to introduce only 10 bills a year and didn't want to "waste" one of his. Prejudice, alas, was the real motive.

"Some insects are looked at as furry and cute," Heck says. "But I think the cockroach is looked at as slimy and disreputable.

"Some people would think that maybe with all the political scandals it would be appropriate, but I don't know."

Asked what inferior insect he would prefer, Heck replied, "Something like a scorpion, maybe."

One Democratic politician suggested a ladybug instead. Assembly Majority Leader Barbara Buckley, D-Las Vegas, said she would "definitely not" put the cockroach forward as the insectoid face of Nevada.

"I think we already have enough pests in Carson City."