Panama is famous for animals that are beautiful, colorful and easy to photograph. But once the sun goes down, another side of the country's wildlife begins to appear. Under logs, inside cracks, beneath rocks, along jungle trails and occasionally in buildings, centipedes begin their night shift.
And Panama has plenty of them.
A 2024 review by the University of Panama documented 11 species of scolopendromorph centipedes in Panama, belonging to three families and six genera, with Scolopendra representing the most diverse genus in the group.
These aren't insects, despite the way people sometimes describe them. Centipedes belong to the group Chilopoda, a completely different branch of the animal kingdom. They are ancient, highly specialized predators, and some of the largest species in Panama can look genuinely intimidating.
The centipedes of the tropical night
Centipedes are essentially the predators of the forest floor.
While millipedes spend much of their time eating dead vegetation, centipedes actively hunt. They search through leaf litter, soil, rotten wood and other hiding places looking for insects, spiders and other small animals. Some of the larger species are capable of tackling surprisingly substantial prey. Centipedes have even been documented preying on animals such as amphibians, reptiles and bats.
They are particularly well suited to Panama's environment. Warm temperatures, abundant moisture and enormous numbers of insects provide exactly the conditions a tropical centipede needs.
And unlike many rainforest animals, they don't need to wait for daylight.
In fact, night is when many centipedes really come alive.
The famous Scolopendra
When people imagine a giant tropical centipede, they are usually imagining something from the genus Scolopendra.
These are the heavyweights.
They have relatively thick bodies, powerful legs and a pair of modified appendages at the front called forcipules. Those aren't ordinary legs. They have evolved into fang-like structures that allow the centipede to inject venom into prey.
Panama is home to several Scolopendra species. The country's 2024 review identifies Scolopendra as its most diverse scolopendromorph genus.
And Panama has an especially interesting giant.
Panama has a giant centipede
In 2013 researchers reported the first confirmed record of Scolopendra gigantea from Panama, based on material from Chagres National Park. The discovery was significant because it represented the species' northwesternmost naturally occurring record outside coastal Venezuela.
The name Scolopendra gigantea gives you a pretty good hint about what you're dealing with.
It is one of the spectacularly large members of the genus, and giant Scolopendra can reach extraordinary lengths. The largest tropical centipedes can exceed 30 centimetres, although you should never assume that every large centipede you see in Panama is Scolopendra gigantea. Identification of these animals to species level can be surprisingly complicated.
That is one of the things that makes Panama so interesting for anyone fascinated by creepy crawlies. A seemingly ordinary walk through the forest can put you in the middle of a surprisingly diverse centipede community.
They don't actually have 100 legs
The name centipede literally suggests 100 legs, but that's not how it works.
Centipedes have one pair of legs per body segment, and the exact number of legs varies between species. The number can be quite different from 100.
This is one of the easiest ways to distinguish them from millipedes.
Centipedes are generally flatter and more streamlined, with one pair of legs coming from each body segment. Millipedes tend to have more cylindrical bodies and, on most segments, two pairs of legs.
And then there is another giveaway:
Centipedes run.
Really run.
The incredible speed of a centipede
A large centipede can go from completely unnoticed to astonishingly fast in a fraction of a second.
This is not an animal that sits around waiting for prey to wander directly into its mouth. It is an active hunter, using its legs, antennae and other sensory structures to navigate through darkness and locate prey.
That speed is also why people sometimes get startled when they encounter one. You may lift a piece of bark expecting to find nothing, only to have a many-legged predator disappear underneath another piece of bark before your brain has even processed what you saw.
The centipede isn't chasing you.
It is trying to get away and find somewhere dark.
Research on centipede envenomation notes that these animals generally attempt to escape rather than attack people, with many bites occurring when a person accidentally traps or disturbs one.
Those "fangs" are actually modified legs
Perhaps the strangest thing about a centipede is that its venom delivery system isn't technically a pair of jaws.
The structures are called forcipules, and they evolved from the first pair of legs.
Think about that for a moment.
During the evolutionary history of these animals, one pair of legs at the front of the body became so specialized that it effectively turned into a pair of venom injecting weapons.
The venom contains a complex mixture of compounds, including neuroactive and other biologically active substances. Scientists are still discovering just how chemically complicated centipede venom really is.
Should you be afraid of Panama's centipedes?
Respect them, yes.
Panic, no.
A bite from a large Scolopendra can be extremely painful, and swelling, redness and inflammation are common. More serious reactions are possible but uncommon.
The sensible rule is simply:
Don't pick up a large centipede.
This applies particularly to travelers who encounter one while moving firewood, rocks, bags or pieces of jungle debris.
Centipedes aren't hunting humans. They are hunting smaller animals. If you leave one alone, it generally has no reason to interact with you.
Why they sometimes end up inside buildings
Panama's centipedes don't necessarily understand the concept of keeping wildlife outside.
A dark, damp building can look rather attractive to a nocturnal predator. Buildings can also contain exactly what a centipede wants: cockroaches, spiders, crickets and other arthropods.
This means a centipede inside a jungle lodge isn't necessarily a sign that something has gone wrong.
Quite the opposite.
It may simply have discovered an excellent hunting ground.
For travelers staying in the rainforest, finding a centipede indoors can therefore be part of the experience. You just probably don't want to discover a large one inside your shoe.
The shoe rule in Panama
This is one of those simple tropical habits worth developing.
Shake out your shoes before putting them on.
The same goes for clothing that has been left on the floor overnight.
You're not doing this because Panama is crawling with dangerous creatures waiting to attack tourists. You're doing it because tropical forests contain an enormous variety of animals that like dark, sheltered spaces.
A shoe is dark.
A shoe is sheltered.
A shoe can stay pleasantly warm.
From the perspective of a small nocturnal arthropod, it can look like excellent real estate.
Centipedes are actually useful
Despite their frightening appearance, centipedes are an important part of the ecosystem.
They are predators that help regulate populations of other invertebrates. In a rainforest containing staggering numbers of insects, spiders and other arthropods, having efficient predators roaming through the leaf litter is essential.
So when you see one sprinting across a jungle trail, you're looking at a small predator performing an important ecological job.
It just happens to have an absurd number of legs.
The Panama centipede experience
There is something particularly fitting about centipedes in Panama.
During the day, you might be watching toucans flying overhead, monkeys moving through the trees and brilliant butterflies crossing the trail.
Then night arrives.
The birds disappear.
The monkeys settle down.
The frogs begin calling.
And somewhere underneath the leaves, a centipede emerges.
Its antennae begin probing the darkness. Its many legs carry it silently across the forest floor. It isn't interested in the scenery, and it certainly isn't interested in tourists.
It's hunting.
And that's one of the fascinating things about Panama's wildlife. The jungle isn't simply a place filled with spectacular animals that humans come to see.
It is an enormous living ecosystem operating 24 hours a day.
The centipede is one of the creatures that takes over when the sun goes down. And if you happen to encounter one, especially one of the impressive Scolopendra species, the best response is probably the simplest one:
Stand back, grab your camera, and let the jungle predator get on with its night.