The three-sided log shelter at the
trail overlook was a welcome sight for sore legs. High on a bluff above the
Mississippi River, naturalists on a field trip stopped to catch our breath. The
view was breathtaking. Eagles soared over the vast channels of the Mississippi
River, and through binoculars we could see turkey vultures riding the air
currents over bluffs on the opposite side.
We admired the view of water, rocks,
trees, and birds for a little while, but soon got distracted by other things.
While Richard Louv, author of “Last Child in the Woods,” praises nature as an
antidote to attention deficit disorder, I find that it actually causes my attention deficit. I hardly
have time to admire or investigate one thing, when another critter or question
pops up. Sometimes, when something catches my eye, I change topics
mid-sentence. That didn’t happen before I became a naturalist.
When our guide paused during his stories
about the history of the river, a fellow easily- distracted naturalist piped in,
“What are these holes in the ground?” We all stopped to look, and found that
the packed-dirt trail was dotted with half-inch diameter holes. What could make
such a small hole in such hard dirt? The guide continued with his spiel, but
all eyes were on the ground. “Pssst
…there’s something in this one.” I crawled over with my camera to peer in
the hole, and found a little head, with two antennae, and two big compound eyes
looking up at me.
“I just saw one go in this hole!”
called someone else. “Here’s one in the grass! And it has something!” Perched on the dangling seed head was a small,
black wasp with a few yellow stripes. Its feet clasped tightly to a drab gray insect
every bit as big as the wasp itself.
Ah ha! The mystery was solved. These
holes were nurseries dug by parasitic wasps. More than 100,000 species of wasps
are parasites, and they each do a version of what this wasp was about to do. They
stun or otherwise subdue their prey, often using coma-inducing chemicals
injected with their ovipositor; hide their prey in a safe spot, if it wasn’t
already there; and lay eggs in or on their prey, using their long, piercing
ovipositor.
When the wasp larvae hatch, they have
a fresh meal. Most parasitic larvae even eat their prey in a set pattern–nonessential
parts first—to keep it alive and fresh as long as possible. Body fat is the
appetizer. The main course includes the prey’s digestive organs, and its heart
and nervous system are saved for dessert. Some wasps even pupate right inside
the hollowed out shell of their buffet.
Once the wasp larvae metamorphose into
adults, their diet changes to nectar, a much less gruesome fare.
Almost every pest insect species has
at least one wasp species that preys upon it or parasitizes it, making wasps
critically important for agricultural pest control. In fact, nearly all insects
are attacked by one or more insect parasites, and some parasitic wasps are
parasitized by other wasps.
Panoramic views of the Mississippi
River almost seem tame alongside such drama in the diminutive world of wasps!
For
over 45 years, the Cable Natural History Museum has served to connect you to
the Northwoods. Come visit us in Cable, WI, at 13470 County Highway M. The
current exhibit, “Deer Camp: A Natural and Cultural History of White-tailed
Deer,” opened in May 2013 and will remain open until April, 2014.
Find
us on the web at www.cablemuseum.org to learn more about our exhibits and
programs. Discover us on Facebook, or at our blogspot,
http://cablemuseumnaturalconnections.blogspot.com/.
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