Bug Blogging - Wilmington, DE

More tales from the bug world...

While pulling some weeds in my backyard over the weekend, my spidey sense started tingling. Something was amiss.

The sound caught my subconscious' attention first. My ears perked up and I stopped for a listen. There was a slight rustling sound...or was it scratching?

Great. The wood-boring bumble bees were back. Early in the spring, I heard a distinct scratching sound coming from the direction of the wooden gate in my back fence. By I couldn't figure out what the heck it was. I figured I had a beetle taking up residence in the wood. Later, I noticed a hole the size of nickel in the fence, near where the scratching was originating. The tell-tail drippings of saw dust mixed with bee saliva and poo that solidified into a foot long trail seeping from the hole gave the bee away. I sprayed the hole with ant spray and the scratching stopped.

A month later, the scratching was back. I happened to observe the bee coming and going. In and out of the hole he went. Scratching all the while he was inside.

Not long after I noticed this new resident, I found a second bee hovering in front of the hole. The resident bee didn't like this. This new bee was a squatter, for sure...just biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to confiscate the hole in the fence from the current resident, who was furiously renovating the inside.

The resident bee suddenly appeared from the hole and attacked! Back and forth around the back yard they zipped in an angry mid-air ballet until finally the squatter relented and buzzed off. Still on alert for several minutes, the resident patrolled the backyard, buzzing after anything that moved, from flies to birds. Just in case his quarry had returned.

From my perch, this was quite exciting, but I had work to do and a yard to protect. Having satisfactorily observed some National Geographic action in my own yard, I waited for the resident bee to make his next excursion, then stuffed his hole full of dead leaves. Forgive me, but I didn't want a bee tunneling around in my fence. When he returned, he was thoroughly confused. Where's my hole?

But now I was hearing that scratching again. Had the bee burrowed through my makeshift plug and set up shop again? I checked the fence. Nope. Hole was still plugged. Then what was that noise?

My ears followed the sound leftward towards the ivy. Then I saw it. A big, one-legged locust chowing down on some of my backyard vegetation. He had already chewed a quarter-sized hole in a leaf before I spotted him.

Last year we had a severe infestation of June bugs. This year, we have hoppers. The June bugs ravaged the back yard and darned if I was going to let this leaf eating son of a grub destroy my ivy. I flicked him off the leaf...

...and into a spider web. Hoo-boy, another opportunity to sit back and watch nature at its most exciting! The hopper hit the web and stuck. Very fortunate for both the spider and me. This was going to be good.

Thirty seconds passed, the victim remained motionless and there was no spider. I didn't have all day, so I decided to force the action. With my finger, I depressed the web repeatedly to give the spider the hint that something was stuck and helplessly tangled in the clutches of its sticky net. The locust made a single attempt to get out, but its mono-leg become more entangled. Down one leg and stuck on a web, the outlook was grim for Mr. Grasshopper.

Finally, the spider took the hint. Emerging from the silky pouch serving as its home, the spider quickly skittered out for a look. I couldn't wait to see the look in its eight eyes when it saw what was waiting as today's dinner.

As the spider emerged, the locust continued its desperate struggled to loosen its only leg from the grip of the spider's trap. It would on be a matter of moments. The spider took a few more steps towards its prey...

...then I swear it yawned, turned around, and went back to its lair for a nap. Moments later, the hopper finally wriggled free and in one mighty, single-legged leap, bounded out of sight, deep into the ivy.

They just don't make spiders like they used to.