Saturday, August 11, 2012

Bugs In Real Life: Classic - Cicada Killer

A long time ago (~6 months), in a land far away (about 4 hours, if you hit traffic right) a dear dear friend of mine told me that every summer their neighborhood becomes festooned with giant hornets...Well, she didn't say "festooned", but the retelling sounds better that way. Actually, I'm not sure that really makes sense...looks like dictionary.com defines the verb festoon as reproducing the natural gum patterns around a tooth or denture. This was a reeeeeeeally long time ago (~6 months), but I'm pretty sure that my friend was trying to describe these bugs' abundance, rather than their involvement in oral prostheses...

Anyway, I asked her to send me a pic once they were around again and I'd see what I could tell her.

This first pic, at right, shows a live one on her front stoop. For sizing comparison, the unidentified article in the northeast quadrant is approximately the width across of your typical sidewalk bird poop.

Coenwulf, King of Mercia, had the right idea by
nonchalantly ignoring the giant, him-sized wasp
by his face. The other two on the silver drachm
are attempting an advanced technique, but their
form is off...this will not end well.
This second pic, below, shows a less live one after it met the business end of a spray can of wasp killer. The sender did not detail whether spraying caused the leg to come off. For helpful sizing comparison, I digitally added these familiar coins during post-processing.







The "giant hornets" that my friends in Virginia Beach are sharing their yard with are not actually hornets. They're actually a type of wasp. Both pictures are of a male Eastern Cicada Killer, or Sphecius speciosus. Although they are also sometimes called Sand Hornets, and (at least, to me) the females bear some resemblance to hornets, this name is a misnomer.

Like any good friend would, I recommended that they get a lot closer to take more pictures the next time they saw one. The second pic was sent after an altercation went south - my friend apparently exclaimed "them bees is crazy!" Despite their size and lack of fear of people, they're fairly harmless and usually just curious. This is especially true of the males, who are known for investigating just about anything that passes close enough to them. The males are not territorial towards humans and they don't even have a stinger. The males do have a sharp spine at the tip of their abdomen, though (totally not a stinger). As a side note, my friend confirmed for me that this Cicada Killer was, in fact, very "curious." He then reminded me that, where he is from, "curiosity gets you killed." I think that adds a nice layer of authenticity to this pic.

The larger female, whose body and face look, to me, quite a bit more like a hornet's or yellow jacket's, are able to sting. But their sting is considered fairly innocuous. Also, like many wasps, they do have strong jaws that can (but typically don't) bite. So I guess they're not completely harmless, but they're typically only known to sting humans when handled roughly or running for political office.

As adults, they eat nectar and sap. The females will capture and paralyze cicadas (hence their name), but this is to feed their young when they hatch. The males may appear to be hunting other bugs, but they're really just checking things out.

They don't live in colonies, but it's typical to see multiple burrows close together. This has to do with soil and drainage or the presence of an especially dominant male - not an underground super-hive of buzzing terror.

That's all for this post. I'm not entirely sure how to end one of these, so I guess I'll just encourage anyone reading to subscribe, comment, recommend, like, etc. Regarding comments, I'm probably only going to approve ones that I deem worthy of being part of this esteemed forum. On the other hand, I likes me some clevers - so if you have something clever to say, I may approve the comment, even if it's not that relevant. So...

"Grind on the pony, girl, show him how you ride it"
-B. Knowles, 2012

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