“My mom always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.”
-- Forrest Gump
June 14, 2017. It was another regular day in the Bee Lab, and I was out in the Bernard Field Station, staring at a bunch of buckwheat - or, to be accurate, I was staring at one cluster, trying my best to keep track of the number of bees that would stop on a flower, and collect the nectar with their long and thin tongue.
You might have noticed that I used the phrase “trying my best”. But don’t get me wrong - it’s not that I can’t count. Instead, I sometimes find these insects so fascinating that I would lose myself in them. In fact, I was not a fan of bees until I rejoined bee lab last week and started helping with fieldwork. After several days of close observation, I developed a fascination for these fluffy, hardworking and buzzing yellow creatures.
Figure 1. A charming, Ray’n bee.
But then, I heard an unfamiliar rumble. I looked up, and saw a ping-pong-ball-sized bug charging towards me. It had bright orange wings and shiny blue body, just like a dazzling missile. My blood froze, and I was too afraid to move at all. Is it coming for me? Is it poisonous? If I move, would it see it as a sign of provocation? Luckily, it seemed to be more interested in the buckwheat around me. It changed its direction half-way, hovered over some flower clusters, and soon rumbled away again, as if it was never there. It took another few seconds to gather myself and dive back into honey bee observation. This time, while I stared at the bees, I was thinking about the orange insect. What is it? Where is it from? Why does it show interest in buckwheat?
Figure 2. The first encounter of a tarantula hawk and our heroine.
As soon as I got back to the lab, I told my labmates about it, and learned that this insect I met was called a tarantula hawk. After some more research, I found that they are very unique creatures. First, they are a type of wasp, but their behavior is unlike that of most social wasps. For example, they don’t live in groups, and thus they don’t look after the offspring themselves. Instead, the female tarantula hawk attacks tarantulas, paralyzes them, and turns them into private nursery rooms by laying an egg in the tarantula’s belly. Once incubated, the larva lives on the tarantula until it becomes an adult, and starts its new life cycle. However, despite their size, powerful sting (ranked No. 2 by Justin Schmidt’s insect sting pain index) and scary name, adult tarantula hawks are nectarivorous, and are relatively docile.
Figure 3. A tarantula hawk feeding on buckwheat.
People are always afraid of the things that they don’t know. While our social insect lab focuses mainly on honey bees and turtle ants, we need to be aware that there are many other species hanging around in the field that we have little knowledge of. Nevertheless, it’s pointless to lose nerve in the face of the unknown, nor is it a good practice to get too close-up, since it might interrupt their normal behavior. But equipped with some knowledge, we would know how to react in the future. As for me and the tarantula hawk, although I’m not sure if I can still stay composed next time I see one, I will definitely not get worried about being attacked. Moreover, maybe one day in the future, I’ll be as fascinated by the tarantula hawk as I was by the honey bees.
Figure 4. Selected note from the frightened heroine.
References
Figure 2. A Yonkoma manga (4-panel manga) created by Kangni Wang.
Figure 3. A tarantula hawk feeding on buckwheat. Photo by Michael Marchiano
http://bugguide.net/node/view/1261883/bgimage
Figure 4. A remake of Kangni Wang’s notes on June 14, 2017 datasheet.
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