A Nest of Another Kind

I have found that I have a slightly peculiar interest in some various biologically related things (well, have you ever tried to watch your blood clot under a microscope?). One of these interests that developed not too long ago with me is for wasp nests. Believe me, I dislike wasps, and I strongly despise yellow jackets and all other stinging insects (I had an experience around six years ago that has scarred me for life, although my phobia has dissipated a little), but I hold a certain admiration for their nests, provided they are empty. I found a wasp's nest lying on the ground a year or two ago and promptly claimed it, and it sits quite proudly in my room. However, this would have gone on and I would have mentioned nothing if something did not happen recently.

It was Craig who first noticed it. Right under the eaves, and not too far from our front porch it loomed, quite menacing. It didn't look exactly like a wasp's nest as I know it, for it was rounded with a long pipe coming out of it, like a bottle. My mother was quick to take action. Instantly she grabbed the wasp spray can, which she had recently used on spiders, and doused the nest thoroughly. So, with a nest right at my fingertips and supposedly empty of its occupants, I readied myself. I first tried a fly swatter, trying to nudge the nest from it's firm lodging under the eaves, but as a fly swatter is generally flimsy, this didn't work. Embracing a new tactic, I grabbed the yard stick from behind the fridge, and tentatively prodded the nest, ready to fly if the nest's owner should come out to pursue me. All was calm with the nest as I broke it from its clinging spot and plopped it into a whipped topping container and put the cover on, just to be on the safe side. With a little trepidation I opened the container and gingerly picked up the nest, peering cautiously down the pipe to see what lay inside. It was dark in there, but I could make out a small honey comb area, similar to a wasp's nest, and I could vaguely see two small white balls. Then it occurred to me that I could use a flashlight, so I snatched that and once again peeked inside the little hole.

Something was in there.

It was a pinky white
small,
fat,
and wriggling!

Ew, gross!

It was definitely larvae. There were probably at least two other smaller siblings of this first one, plus the white, spider-web-like balls. After my first moment of slight panic, I looked again and watched the grubby little thing with a huge mixture of disgust and fascination.

Now what was I supposed to do? I wasn't ready to relinquish my prize nest just yet, so throwing it into the woods wasn't quite appealing. So I did whatever any sensible person would do in my situation. I put it in the freezer. There it remained for a day or two, until I finally got around to taking it out again and once more examined the inside. The larvae were still, as I probably would be too if I were frozen. But were they really dead? Of course wasps last the winter somehow, though whether as eggs or as larvae I know not, so could these little guys just be dormant, ready to unfreeze, grow, and wriggle their way into wasphood? (or whatever it is that made the nest) But if they were dead, how would I get them out anyway?

Timidly I took a wire cake tester (don't worry, I put it in the dish washer when I was done with it) and poked the solid larva. Hmm. Dead or not dead, I didn't really want them living in there. Then I took the next possible solution. Going to the base of the nest, where it had been attached to the eaves, I started to tear out the bottom. Oh, what agonies the-whatever-you-call-it would have suffered to see me tearing his beautiful, hard labored, carefully chewed home! It almost hurt me as much. Well, maybe not that much. The nest was built in layers, and I tore through about two until I came to the actual nest bed. Then I extracted it, its occupants still snoring or dreaming dead dreams, and took it outside to chuck it into the woods. So I got the basic shell of the nest, it's sitting on my bookshelf and we're living happily ever after.

The End.