I have become very grateful indeed for the modern marvel that is central air conditioning. The house is always a comfortably cool 70-something. However, once or twice per day -- even when it is very hot out -- I like to step out and take in a little bit of the warmth outdoors. I feel I just must go stare into the trees, gaze at the stream and watch the willow branches sway in the thick warm breeze. Perhaps I am insane. Perhaps I am just feeling the a sort of call of the wild.
Today was no different, 111 degrees and all. The stream (which is lower than usual because we haven't had rain in several days) was alive with tadpoles, and the banks boasted a beautiful red flower I had not seen before. On my way back from the stream, something on one of the larger trees caught my eye. It was a wheel bug, an assassin bug that kills its bug prey by stabbing it with its long tubular mouth. I don't just happen to know this... I went to great pains to learn it when I became fascinated by the specimen outside. Dan's reaction when I messaged him to tell him what I had seen was, and I quote, "icky!"
While part of me must concur, I also saw a great deal of beauty in this enormous insect. The details were fascinating, from the wheel on his back and his piercing mouth to the colorful stripes on his lower wings and his prodigious size. The way he blended into the tree bark was really amazing. I watched him for a while, trying to get him to move so I could look at him from a different angle. Fortunately this bug was not feeling aggressive, because adults of this species (which this is) inflict very painful bites.I find it hard to explain how such a little thing (that would probably cause me some alarm if I found it in my house) evoked such feelings of wonder and fascination... even awe. I was perfectly content, for several minutes, to chase this poor bug around with a scrap of cardboard and a camera, oblivious to the heat and humidity. When it finally had enough of me and flew away, I found myself following its awkward flight. I headed back to the cool, controlled environment of the house with my heart a little lighter for having seen this strange little creature. When the wild calls, I am grateful for the little things that show me how grand this world really is.
2 comments:
Reminds me of the time I became fascinated with a great maple spanworm, up in Vermont. About 2-3" long, brown with fleshy skin, with feet only on either end like an inchworm (hence spanworm). He performed all his behaviors for me while I held him on some leaves: ate, pooped, and stiffened himself away from the twig the leaves were attached to (that's how he hides, looking like a twig). He amused the heck out of me. I looked him up in a book and found a maple tree to set him on. He seemed a gentle creature, unlike your assassin bug--but the trees probably didn't find him so. Yeah, sometimes it takes looking at the little things (like the details of why an insect has a certain form) to appreciate the grandeur of nature--big things like the Grand Canyon can be harder to absorb.
Oooh - that sure does look like a fascinating creature. Really, more than the details of the physiology, I think I am reveling in the opportunity to just slow down long enough to notice little things. It's a lovely change.
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