It was mid-morning when she emerged from the nest, intent on making her first kill. It did not take long. She flew to a nearby flowerbed as she’d done daily for the past few weeks. But for once she ignored the sweet, crimson Bottlebrushes hanging fecund and heavy on the Callistemon bushes. She flew slowly and deliberately past the Jasmine’s creamy flowers with their intoxicating fragrance. She ducked under the apple tree, resplendent in its spring blossom mantle. To the left of the apple tree, on an overgrown daisy-bush badly in need of pruning, the foundress spotted movement. She was about to demonstrate why the wasp has the reputation as one of the most energetic and efficient predators to be found anywhere in the animal kingdom. Her target was a pale green caterpillar of the Emerald Moth, often known as a “ looper “ or “inch worm”. Its body was attractively patterned with black dots and crescents. It was thin and somewhat cylindrical, and progressed along a leaf by stretching its front half to a new position and then bringing up the rear in one action.
The queen approached her prey downwind. The caterpillar, sensing danger, rose on its hind legs and remained motionless, mimicking a twig. But it was too late. At a distance of ten centimetres the queen could see her prey and smell it too. Swiftly she pounced, seizing the caterpillar by its neck and crushing its head with her powerful mandibles. The caterpillar, at forty millimetres, was a full ten millimetres longer than its attacker. It took all of the inexperienced queen’s strength to subdue her thrashing victim. European wasps use their stings only in defence, relying on superior force to overwhelm their prey. The queen would soon learn to pick on smaller targets as she honed her hunting skills over the coming week. However she felt satisfied at the success of her first kill.
Now came the difficult task of carrying her booty back to the nest. She briefly considered carving off a portion and returning later to retrieve the remainder, but her fear of thieves was too strong. It took some time for her to manoeuvre the caterpillar evenly beneath her body. Her major grip was with her mandibles. Her other legs also supported her load close beneath the centre of her body. Here it provided minimum disturbance to her equilibrium and was also shielded from unwelcome interference during the short, laboured flight to the nest. Upon arrival she located her concealed entrance hole with uncanny accuracy. While standing on her hind legs and holding the prey with her middle legs, she cleared away a little debris with her mandibles and front legs. As she entered the burrow she allowed the caterpillar to slip backwards so that she could drag it down the tunnel after her. At this time she released her grip with her middle legs, and grasped it with her hind legs. Using this method of kill retrieval, she confidently ranged widely in her search for prey. In no time she became a skilled and practiced killer who could return swiftly to her hidden nest and enter quickly without releasing her prize.
Nevertheless, this was a taxing and lonely time for the foundress. Her eggs were hatching quickly and the survival of the nest depended entirely on her ability to both survive and provide. On her return from a foraging mission, she chewed portions of her kill into a pasty mass. Very young larvae were fed on the liquid from the chewed meat. The queen also imbibed part of this liquid for her own nourishment. However she still preferred nectar, honeydew and plant sap for her main fare. Although now a fierce and accomplished huntress, she remained an almost complete vegetarian. Sweet juices, being an energy food, were suitable for adult wasps, but the rapidly developing wasplings required protein for their growth. Hence their need for meat. Fortunately the foundress was an excellent provider. While her young ate and grew, she continued her house building, extending the sides of the cell walls to keep pace with her babies increasing length.
Occasionally she rested or took time-out to groom herself. She polished her antennae between tiny spurs on her head. She cleaned her eyes with her forelegs. She cleaned her forelegs with her mandibles. During this procedure the queen resembled Beth’s cat, Spooky, as he contentedly licked his paws and washed his face after dinner. To clean her abdomen and her delicate wings the queen rubbed them against fine brushes on the inner side of her hind legs. She even groomed the open tip of her abdomen and its exposed sting. This grooming behaviour was essential for her health. It removed any particles of soil, pollen or other foreign matter that might interfere with her movement, vision or chemical senses, keeping her free of disease or infection.
The queen was a sun-loving creature, who revelled in the lengthening light and the warming temperatures. In fact she only foraged when there was at least partial sunshine. On grey, wet days she confined herself to her nest, feeding her young, and getting on with the endless task of nest extension. On such days she was not entirely without sustenance. Portions of insect prey remained in the nest from the previous day’s hunting. These she masticated and fed to the larvae, obtaining some nourishment for herself in the process. Her first born was now a week old. In its first few days the hatchling was held in place by little more than a mucous secretion and appeared to be in imminent danger of falling out of bed. But soon, as she grew sleek and fat, the sheer pressure of her body against the soft paper walls guaranteed her security within the cell. Nonetheless, she still hung helplessly, unable even to turn around.
Within a few more days the hatchling was big enough to extend her head a few millimetres over the edge of her cradle. This movement soon developed into a simple communication between the mother and her first-born. The queen, complete with a pellet of solid food, checked the nursery cell. She paused at its entrance and signalled her presence by rapidly tapping her head against the edge. The resulting vibration of the nest produced a brief buzz, clearly audible to the other inhabitants of the hollow below. An earwig paused in its food gathering. A startled King Cricket hopped for cover. A lumbering wood cockroach cocked its head to the side in puzzlement. The increasing hum of the nest was still a novelty in this previously quiet space.
The infant responded to her mothers tapping by extending her body and bringing her mouth clear of the cradle’s edge. She no longer resembled a slender hatchling, having already completed two ‘instars’ or moults. She was now distinctly grub-like, normally creamy in colour, but currently rendered green by the blood of her mother’s favourite caterpillar prey. Her head capsule was brown and she had neither eyes nor antennae. Her infantile jaws were well developed and seemed out of proportion to the size of her head. Powerful muscles already operated them. She possessed the beginnings of a spinneret, with which she would soon commence to weave a cocoon. Instead of legs she had fleshy lobes, which allowed her to make limited movements within the nest cell. She breathed through ten pairs of tiny spherical spiracles. Her body appeared smooth, but if viewed under high magnification, a covering of minute spines would have been visible. These helped her to remain securely within her inverted nursery.
After giving her baby the feeding signal, the queen thrust the food pellet against her mouth. The waspling reacted by exuding a drop of saliva and moving her jaws. The queen then imbibed the droplet. This transfer of fluid between baby and adult was much more than just an incentive to feed. It produced a social bond. The baby, on encountering the food offered by her mother, began to bite and tug at it. The queen held firmly onto the pellet until her youngster managed to pull a morsel free. As her first-born ate, the queen busily attended to her other youngsters. She was an intensely devoted mother, visiting each occupied cell frequently, and finding little time to rest. All of these first young were destined to be workers. They would be smaller than their mother and all would be female. However they would remain sexually immature and never mate. Before they attained adulthood they underwent a fantastic transformation known as metamorphosis. During this pupal stage, almost all larval tissue was miraculously broken down and reassembled into the adult form. Only the nervous system and part of the gut remained relatively unchanged.
While her babies developed safely within their nest, the foundress continued to hunt for hours, far and wide in all directions. It was marvellous how she always returned home with
out hesitation or uncertainty. How was it possible for her to unfailingly return in a direct line to a nest, which was so carefully concealed? On the surface it appeared to be a mysterious talent, attributable to an instinctive sixth sense; a sense of direction. This, however, was not quite fair to Her Ladyship’s intelligence, as better acquaintance with her would prove.
One might suppose that the scores of insects flying about on a spring day were part of an infinite, anonymous throng, ever travelling. The exact opposite of this was true. Beth’s garden was home to a limited number of insects that either resided there since birth or were permanent settlers. In April, the foundress spent her time sipping nectar from the onion flowers and sorrel that grew on the border of the garden. In May came the days of her courtship and honeymoon. These too were mainly passed in buzzing from bloom to bloom, from one part of the garden to another. In a state of torpor, she cosily overwintered in the tip of one of Beth’s old garden gloves. When she awoke from hibernation, she reentered a familiar world. September found her feeding on the blossoms of a row of bean plants in the vegetable garden, turning when she reached the end to leisurely wend her way back along the next row. During her nest building she made numerous short orientation flights so that she became perfectly familiar with the neighbourhood. The knowledge she developed was not instinctive, but learned. So it was not surprising after all, that she could carry her prey from any point in her territory in a direct line to her nest. She learned its location in the same way as Beth learned where her home was. They both depended on knowledge of the place based on their individual experience. They had a lot in common.
CHAPTER 5
It was a hot Sunday afternoon in early summer. The f lush of spring f lowers in the garden now began to wane. Good spring rains ensured that the pastures remained lush and green. Beth’s garden took on an attractive unkempt appearance as pruning failed to keep up with its rampant growth. Sarah and Rick were again at Mark’s home. Irene and Paul, who’d come for lunch, watched as nine year old Rebecca tried to encourage Skittles, the palomino pony, over several small jumps. A combination of heat and laziness made Skittles less than enthusiastic. With much whooping and f lapping of arms and legs, Rebecca trotted towards a pole resting on several bricks. Skittles dutifully trotted up to the obstacle, ducked around it and began to graze. Rebecca squealed with disappointment. Paul offered his daughter some words of encouragement. Beth gave her a pep talk about showing the pony who was boss. Irene laughed and pulled her friend up the pathway towards the house.
“Come on Beth. I could use a cool drink. Paul will keep an eye on Bec, won’t you honey?”
Paul nodded his assent. With a few parting words of advice, Beth accompanied Irene back to the house. Beth knew what was coming. She had been very circumspect on the subject of her husband lately and knew Irene’s curiosity was aroused. She was in for an interrogation. Secretly she was pleased. In the past month, Mark’s behaviour had grown increasingly erratic. The generous child-support payments that previously always materialised like clockwork into Beth’s bank account, had still not arrived. Beth was starting to regret that the payment arrangement hadn’t been formalised with a court-order. Her lawyer urged her to do so at the time of her separation, but Beth trusted Mark. Back then, it seemed inconceivable that he would abandon his financial responsibilities towards his family. Now Beth was not so sure.
Just as worrying were the physical advances and innuendos that now accompanied Mark’s visits. He’d also made some disturbing phone calls. Beth suspected these calls were made after he had been drinking. They consisted of fractured, rose-coloured reminiscences about their previous married life. At these times he seemed emotionally needy. This too was unlike the Mark that Beth knew. One of his major flaws had been his cold self sufficiency. She deeply resented that he now displayed this new side of himself, when she had neither the desire nor the right to respond to his needs.
The situation with the children’s access visits continued to deteriorate. With few exceptions the kids returned with complaints about their father’s behaviour. He was morose and prone to make promises he failed to keep. The children’s reluctance to spend weekends with him seemed to be mutual. A few weeks ago Mark cancelled an access weekend. This was a first. His excuse was his need to work overtime. Beth felt a stab of concern as she detected a degree of pain in his voice. It was a superficially rational excuse. However until recently he’d always viewed the time spent with his children as sacrosanct.
The kids greeted the news of the cancelled weekend with enthusiasm.
“Cool!” said Rick.
“Can Simon come over to play Warcraft? His Mum won’t let him have it on his computer.”
Sarah was equally unconcerned.
“I’ve got a project to finish for school anyway. I can never get anything done at Dad’s. There are too many rows.”
Although pleased at her daughter’s new-found studiousness, Beth remained puzzled. Only a few short months ago, they would both have been disappointed at the prospect of missing a weekend with their Dad. At times Beth even felt secretly jealous of the close relationship they maintained with Mark. Beth held a grudging respect for Mark’s ability to salvage his relationship with his children from the wreck of their marriage. Lately, inexplicably, he seemed to be sabotaging his earlier good work. Hopefully this weekend would turn things around.
Beth realised that she was actually looking forward to the coming inquisition. It would be good to unburden herself.
“Spill!” was all Irene needed to say.
Beth gave a wry smile. Outside the kitchen window, wasps continued to pile up in her traps. She confessed all. Her financial worries, the change in her children’s attitude, even her discomfort at Mark’s unwelcome advances. Irene listened attentively, asking only the odd question here and there to f lesh out a thought.
“Frankly, one of the reasons I invited you all over here today was so someone would be here when Mark arrived. I’m tired of fending him off.”
Beth listened to herself with surprise. She plainly heard the element of apprehension in her voice and felt instantly ashamed.
Irene remained silent for some time, digesting her friend’s words.
“I’m glad you told me,” she began.
“Beth, I’ve known Mark for almost as long as you have and this definitely isn’t normal. It sounds like he’s a little unhinged. You’re right to be concerned. I’m glad Paul and I are here.”
“So am I,” admitted Beth.
It felt good to finally give voice to her fears. For too long they had lurked, shadowy and indistinct. Now they began to take form.
An excited Rebecca burst into the kitchen, interrupting the women.
“We did it!” she beamed. “Skittles and I jumped the jump. – Twice!”
The two mothers turned their attention to the excited child. A smiling Paul followed his daughter into the room.
“We’ll make a horsewoman out of her yet,” he announced proudly.
The women busied themselves making sandwiches. Paul poured them all a drink and then went to play with Simon on the computer. Irene made a mental note to inform Paul of what she’d just learnt as soon as possible. She was more worried about Beth than she cared to admit.
At four o’clock Mark arrived with the children. Rick ran to find Paul and Simon while Sarah and Bec went down to the stable. Mark showed little inclination to leave, instead joining the women on the verandah. Irene observed him curiously. She detected a subtle change in him. Physically he’d lost weight. His usually immaculate hair was longer and a little tousled. It gave a debonair touch to his undeniably handsome features. His jaw was tensed. Pouring himself a drink, he leant on the verandah rail, spinning his car keys idly in his left hand. Irene listened as he and Beth made small talk. When the conversation got around to Helen he visibly stiffened.
“Are you and Helen having problems?” Irene inquired boldly. Instantly she felt that she had overstepped her bounds. But to her amazement, Mark
reacted with startling honesty.
“You know how it is Irene. Every relationship has its ups and downs. If you must know, Helen and I aren’t seeing eye to eye on a lot of things right now.”
He met Irene’s surprised glance with a steady, searching look. A play for sympathy was the last thing she had expected from the coolly self-sufficient Mark.
Paul stepped out onto the verandah. He detected a certain tension.
“G’day Mark. Long time no see.”
“ Likewise.”
An awkward silence followed.
“I’ll just go and check on the girls then, shall I?”
Paul directed his question to no one in particular. There was no response from the women. Mark turned, as if to join Paul. His gaze lingered expectantly on Beth. She remained silent, her face expressionless.
“Hang on, Paul. I’ll come with you.”
Paul missed the subtle shake of Beth’s head. Mark didn’t. The two men drained their glasses and set off down the pathway, shielding their eyes with their hands from the glare of the afternoon sun.
Irene caught her breath as she met Beth’s gaze.
“You’re not wrong. Something is definitely up with that one!”
Beth smiled wanly and nodded. Part of her was relieved that Irene too had noticed a change in Mark. Yet part of her also hoped her friend could have reassured her, telling her it was all in her imagination. Validation made her anxiety harder to deny.
Beth wondered how the children’s weekend had gone and resolved to do her own fair share of interrogation later that evening. Sipping her wine, she watched the two men heading down the path. Mark had grabbed a can of beer out of the fridge and swigged from it as he walked. As Beth watched, she saw him swatting vigorously at something in front of his face. Jumping violently to the side, he dropped the can. The frothy, amber fluid drained away between the rocks that edged the track.
Wasp Season Page 4