I've noticed that a lot of folks in my area call them 'locusts', but it might be a bit less confusing to call them 'cicadas', which is their other common name. You might be in a part of the world that doesn't have cicadas, so here's a photo of one:
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| Don't bother clicking, it doesn't get any bigger. |
I'm used to hearing the word 'locust' used in reference to grasshoppers. I think that in the King James Version of the Bible, whenever locusts are discussed, the reference is to a grasshopper species native to the Mediterranean region and/or North Africa.
Anyway, if you've never lived in an area that has cicadas, you don't know what you're missing! Their pulsating, drumming, cycling song is such a familiar part of the sonic environment that to me it just doesn't feel like summer until I begin hearing them. I can understand why some folks might get annoyed with the racket they can throw up, but to me their plaintive attempts at communication are pure music.
Now, in nature no species exists in a vacuum, so to speak. In many parts of the United States, we have other species that feed on these big, juicy insects. One in particular has always struck awe in me, and that is the so-called 'cicada killer wasp' (
Sphecius speciosus). These are
huge wasps, whose main claim to fame is that they are able to catch, paralyze and haul cicadas
in the air back to their nests.
Here's a photo of an Eastern Cicada Killer Wasp in the act of hauling a cicada. This photo was found at Wikipedia.com and is said to be in the public domain, but I'd like to give a public tip of the hat to Mr. Bill Buchanan of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for getting what must be a pretty rare look at the wasp at work.
Photo courtesy Bill Buchanan, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Public domain.
A brief search on the Interwebs indicates that there are two species found here in Texas, the Eastern and Western cicada killer; my local variety are the Eastern. I've been stomping around in the wild — with a camera — for decades, and I've never actually seen a wasp hauling a cicada like this, but I knew that they did this and have always hoped to see it one day. We've got several cicada killers now nesting in a city park just a couple of blocks from my home. I've starting doing morning walks in the park again for exercise, and almost ran into one this morning as she hovered around the dirt mound that marked the entrance to her burrow in the ground. She was not aggressive in the least, although she hovered close for a few seconds, checking me out. According to the Wikipedia article on these wasps, they'll generally not attack humans and will usually only sting if you attempt to handle one roughly or step on it with a bare foot. However, the sheer size of these creatures, and the fear of what that sting must feel like, has always caused a deeply conditioned urge to arise in my mind —the urge to flee at a rapid departure rate! Interestingly, the
Wikipedia article relates that one person stung by a cicada killer has stated that the sting was little worse than a "pinprick." Somehow, I'm not completely buying that, but I'll try to remind myself of what this guy said next time a wasp the size of a small hummingbird is hovering next to my face!
So early this afternoon, on my way back home on foot from downtown, I passed by the city park, and just barely beyond the park I happened to glance down at the sidewalk and saw a wasp lying there dead. It was right next to Main Street, and appeared as though it might have been struck by a vehicle, although damage to the creature's exoskeleton was not immediately obvious. I walked past a ways, then turned back to pick it up, thinking "I'll photograph this guy and put in on the blog somewhere." As I approached what I thought was the location of the wasp on the sidewalk, I found that what I was now looking at was a cicada, lying there with no apparent damage whatsoever. Looking around, I soon spotted the wasp I had seen, just a few feet away. An idea formed in my mind about why I was finding these two large insects lying so close to each other and out of commission. I surmised that the wasp was hauling a freshly caught cicada across Main Street, heading back to its burrow with the meal, when hunter and prey were hit by a vehicle. It made perfect sense. I picked the cicada up and examined it closely. There was not the least sign of injury to the insect; it was just lying there. This made sense, because the wasp paralyzes the cicada with a venomous sting but doesn't kill it. The animal appears dead but is actually just immobilized and quite alive. The female wasp (the males are supposedly stingless...I'm not sure I'm buying that one, either) hauls the living but helpless cicada down her burrow, lays her eggs on it, and when the baby wasps hatch — voilà! Instant cicada meal! It's as fresh as fresh gets, and even more convenient than frozen! No microwave needed!
I cautiously picked up the wasp by one wing. Not much damage to the body, but the other large wing was missing about a third of its length. I believe these insects have two sets of wings; if so, she also had a severely messed up small wing on that side as well. And she was dead as a doornail, poor girl.
Here's her death portrait:
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| Clicking on this photo won't get you anywhere, either. |
She's shown larger than life in the photo, but notice how relatively massive her body proportions are compared to other wasps, like this guy:
Public domain photo.
She's built for hauling heavy loads, I'd say. And here's a photo of her together with the (probable) cargo:
That's pretty impressive, to be flying with something that I'd estimate weighs three to four times what she does.
No wonder wasps give me nightmares! Images like the following in the media don't help, either:
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'Wasp Woman' images are apparently now in the public domain.
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"A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN BY DAY —A LUSTING QUEEN WASP BY NIGHT." Sounds like a girl I used to date. For a wasp-creature, she's kind of attractive and looks a lot like Susan Cabot from the neck up. Who's the guy? He doesn't look like he's having a fun date at all.
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| This image is in the public domain. |
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The good folks at aircraft engine builder Pratt & Whitney had an ad that ran in a 1952 edition of the
Saturday Evening Post which featured this great illustration of a Wasp-Turbine hybrid. Interestingly, P&W had an engine series named 'Wasp' but they weren't jet engines as shown here. Thanks to fellow blogger PhilAreGo!
Read his description here.
That's all. I've gotta buzz off to bed.
