A few mornings ago, a friend invited me to sit on a special park bench while she read her sacred words to me. The cool air and my lightly closed eyes made it easy to usher in the images she was reading aloud. I was also sharply aware of warmed pine scent floating in, carrying me back to childhood refuges and other holy-moment places.
As we wandered through the park afterward, remarking on the swallows who were racing low across the grass, we suddenly became aware that we were invaders to someone’s home. Many someones’ homes.
Swarming around our feet were one-and-a-half-inch-long, fiery looking creatures. I was so struck by this new-to-me being that I just stood there gawking as dozens flew low across a slightly raised sandy-dandelion area. I wanted a very good look, to memorize what I was seeing so I could research it later. My friend took some evasive moves as soon as she determined the boundaries of this apparent nesting area. I followed her, still looking back to see if I could pick up additional details.
I continued to remark on the creatures’ deep orange-red coloration with a faint glow of something I hadn’t yet understood.
The next day I needed a break from my desk where I’d been working for many hours. I took my best camera and drove back to the park.
As I walked toward the nesting site, I recalled the lovely meditation with my friend, her generosity of heart as she shared what’s so deeply meaningful to her. And I contrasted the glaring midafternoon heat with the prior morning’s sweet cool.
Careful not to step on the nesting site, I stood at a distance and swiveled my lens to its highest magnification. And I waited. For a minute or two, I thought that all the flaming beings must have fled, maybe not living in that area after all. But then I saw one, two, several. Each would land on a tiny sand knoll, and then disappear inside it. I repeatedly focused my camera and took shot after shot.
I learned some things by watching them:
the nests are small mounds about the size of my palm
they have an entry hole a bit smaller than a dime that leads down to their subterranean nest
one of these individuals kept backing up, heading toward the entry, backing up, heading toward the hole, backing up, heading toward the entryway; this cycle repeated no less than fifteen times
their back end is black, their legs and thorax are red
the activity in the midday heat was greatly diminished compared to in the morning
In the bright sun I could not review any of my images. I decided I would use the shade of my car to quickly scan the photos to see if I had captured a good-enough likeness of them.
As I briskly headed to my car, I remembered the swallows from the prior morning. I did an about-face and walked right up to the bathroom entrance where another friend and I had enjoyed a well-inhabited barn swallow nest last summer.
Gratefully, the mud structure was still there and a colorful baby, this year’s nestling, lifted his head. I began talking to him, admiring him, snapping photos of him. He stood at the edge of the nest and opened his mouth repeatedly. I recognized this call for food; I apologized for not having nourishment, reminding him that I’m not his mother. He settled back down in the nest.
I thanked him.
After taking a quick peek at my photos back at my car, I returned home.
Quickly downloading my photos onto a bigger screen, I was able to see enough detail to identify the wasps as Great Golden Digger Wasps, Sphex ichneumoneous. I immediately began to research them and learned a few wonderful details:
they are not the least bit aggressive, and the males don’t even have stingers
females only sting if they are very threatened or handled
they are solitary (I like to think “introverted,” like me)
the adults love to visit flowers to feed on nectar and they tend to feed crickets (who they’ve paralyzed) to their young in the nest
they are covered with gold pubescence (soft downy hairs) on their head and thorax (thus, the “faint glow” I’d noticed but couldn’t make sense of the prior day)
At the sweaty end of a long workday, I was gifted with the sightings of two lovely species – one I’m a bit familiar with, the other to whom I am brand-newly acquainted: Hirundo rustica and Sphex ichneumoneous.
What an amazing planet we share as home with our intriguing, flying neighbors!
