Feeling Waspish

A wasp hunting

Ah the much maligned wasp.  Her reputation precedes her wherever she goes. Her temper is infamous, yet few of us know her rather noble purpose.

An unsung hero, she diligently scours the most fragile of flowers for enemy aphids, scooping them off like a valiant gladiator.

She can be seen carrying her prey to destinations unknown to devour it in privacy.  Across the garden she flies, like a helicopter, her long black legs woven about her captive like a cargo basket below her.

I, like everyone else, instinctively give wasps a wide berth of course. They are liable to lash out at us even for simply being in their space!  But we have to think of them as trained henchmen on steroids.  Without that constant fighting urge they couldn't do their job.  And quite frankly I have been stung far more times by busy, comparatively gentle bees. They are slower and less aware of clumsy humans, so can be taken by surprise with a misplaced footstep or handhold.

Not so the diligent wasp. She is a veritable fighting machine, well aware of our every move. If she chooses to nip us for a taste, she is totally prepared to also wallop us with a sting or two if we protest!

So next time you feel it your duty to rid yourselves of her presence, remember her usefulness in the garden, but do give her a wide berth!

The ant had better watch out!

Nobody enjoys the birdbath more.