Looks like it's getting to be that time of year again -- the days are getting shorter and cooler, the leaves are starting to change color, and the whirliwogs are spiraling delightfully down from the trees!

Ah, it just makes you remember simpler times, doesn't it? Venturing through Petalburg Woods while hundreds of these fellows are spinning in the wind around you, showing off their dazzling painted tails... sometimes they'll even form pairs, grabbing onto one another as they fall, creating an even more beautiful display!

What many hasty trainers don't realize, however, is that these weak, seed-like pokémon aren't actually seeds, at all -- they're actually specialized tadpoles, who with enough time and effort, will evolve into the formidable yet shy acerog.

It seems whirliwog fall in search of water and food, hoping to avoid much suspicion by hiding among leaf litter and genuine maple seeds until they grow strong enough to return to the tree canopy where they spend the rest of their days. As a result, it's fairly rare to actually see acerog populations in the wild, but on spring nights, their calls are an integral addition to the forest's chorus, bringing luck to all who hear it! (And, of course, no article about these guys would be complete without saying that their poison packs quite a punch, as well!)

Researchers have been pondering the existence of a hypothetical Psychic / Bug type pokémon, based off various recently found materials from the ancient world. This mythical insect, who appears to have resembled the modern day honeybee, was said to possess strange psychic powers and perhaps even knowledge of the future.

One of these ancient accounts reads:

...then they swarmed. Even through all the chaos, my attention was drawn to four particular individuals in the middle of it all. They stood, side by side, and, as I looked closer, I noticed they all had strange spots on their thorax, almost reminiscent of...

Before I could even finish my thought, I saw, though I hardly believe it, even now -- there on their backs, cutting through the harsh dark of night, were the letters: come. I simply stared, slack jawed. Impatient, each in unison revealed a glowing eye and thus I lost control of my body, my thoughts, myself. The humming was all I heard, their unspoken yet deafening command echoing in my ears, as my legs clumsily moved themselves, following behind the swarm...

I know not what happened next, but when I awoke, I found myself slumped in the outskirts of town, the rosy fingers of dawn dragging themselves up the sky. My pockets were heavy, full of sticky, sweet coins, and all I could recall was a vague promise to never return...

An artist's rendition of a single specimen follows:

This certainly wouldn't be the first reported story of psychic pokémon seemingly communicating directly with humans. Additionally, there are also fragments of ancient pottery and carvings depicting beings that seem to be half human, half bee. Perhaps this was also some form of psychic illusion or transformation?

Still, upon hearing these stories, one can't help but ask further questions: why is it we have had no confirmed sightings of such creatures in modern times? Have they truly all gone extinct? And just how related are they to our modern day honeybees? You certainly do hear strange stories dated back as recent as the middle ages, about entire hives apparently becoming enraged and storming off when not informed of important events in the beekeeper's family...

Beyond that, it makes one wonder about what draws the line between human, pokémon, and regular animals -- particularly, what level of sentience do the latter truly possess? What is the true nature of psychic type pokémon and their ability to seemingly bend the fabric of reality as we know it? And--

Well, I suppose that's why I became a researcher in the first place: there will always be more questions to ask, answerable and not... But, most importantly, it's best to just focus on one topic at a time.