The Saga of the Barbecue Wasp
Well today, the saga of the barbecue wasp came to a sadly abrupt end. Here’s the story.
In early June we uncovered and opened the barbecue that sits on our deck, to use for the summer. There in the lower righthand corner, stuck to the cover, was a honeycomb and 2 wasps. We obviously couldn’t cook with it there, so we decided to remove it. But, being the procrastinators we are, opted to put off the the task for another day.
The summer heat wave hit quickly and mercilessly and the thought of grilling in 95+ degree heat- yeah it just wasn’t going to happen. I began to watch these wasps, who I decided were a couple. They worked feverishly on filling the honeycomb, which upon examination, I found to be a fascinating and complex structure. I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell these tiny creatures with tiny brains created it.
As the weeks passed, Mr. and Mrs. Wasp recruited other wasps to fill the honeycomb and great progress was made after a dozen or more joined the now growing wasp community. They’d walk around and around the honey comb until they found that perfect hole. They’d then stand over it with their tail end releasing a wasp honeycomb- filing substance for hours, possibly days, until the hole was full. Filling hole after hole, they labored with great dedication day in and day out and slept under the outer rim of the honeycomb at night. It was a truly magnificent site to watch.
We still planned to remove it but as more and more wasps joined in and the honeycomb became more and more filled, I began to have reservations on destroying all their hard work. Luckily, with the heat still way into the 90’s through the first weeks of July, it wasn’t a decision I had to make yet.
By the time it cooled down a bit, it was already August and in my ridiculously empathic mind, way too late to crush their little world and destroy all their hard work. They weren’t bothering us, how could I conduct this act of radical destruction against them and their creation? I couldn’t. The honeycomb would stay.
Just when the honeycomb hit over 50% full, the unthinkable happened. I came out one morning to have my morning tea on the deck and checked on the wasps, as had become my summer routine, and found the entire wasp community in complete utter panic and disarray. The honeycomb had sort of collapsed into itself. Entire sections were sunken in and the structure as a whole was warped and misshapen. All the precious wasp honeycomb filling substance that they had labored so hard to fill into the holes was gone, with the exception of one small area. The wasps were in obvious distress buzzing and walking around surveying the colossal damage, I suppose unable to wrap their little wasp brains around what had happened. I had no idea what caused this, but I assumed, at the time, the heat had somehow melted it.
The wasps composed themselves and carried on, starting over. They resumed the task at hand and continued to fill the little holes. Progress was relatively quick and within a couple of weeks had a good amount of the holes once again filled. Then, it happened again. And again.
One morning I came out to have my tea and all but two wasps were gone- Mr. and Mrs. Wasp I presumed. All of the other wasps had collectively thrown in the towel and abandoned ship.
I imagined they must have had a town meeting of sorts to discuss ‘the problem’. Likely they all gathered together on the barbecue grill and discussed the failure of the honeycomb. I imagined Mr. Wasp passionately arguing his case, pleading with his fellow wasps to carry on, to stay the course, adminently declaring that they would overcome, if they worked together, stayed strong and continued on. I could picture Mrs. Wasp silently standing by her husband, despite believing deep down in her heart that the honeycomb was unstable and doomed. But what could she do, Mr. Wasp was her husband after all, her partner in flight, her ying to his yang. She would stand by her man.
But atlas the wasp committee, a chosen board of wise old wasps, would render it’s verdict- The honeycomb is structurally unsound. All the wasps but Mr. and Mrs. Wasp packed up their little Wasp belongings, said their good- byes and moved on, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Wasp to weather the storm alone.
For the next 2 weeks together they labored. Long hours, little sleep, they exhaustingly filled the holes alone. Then one day Mrs. Wasp had had enough. She pleaded with her husband to throw in the towel. She told him that she loves him but just can’t throw away her life on a pointless pursuit. The honeycomb would not be filled and she could no longer be any part of it. Mr. Wasp pleaded with her to stay, she pleaded with him to go. We can rebuild somewhere else she cried, we can make it work here he countered. But he was obsessed, a wasp driven by an irrational need to fill an unstructerly sound honeycomb. Her mother had warned her about wasps like him. She had to go. And so she did.
Mr. Wasp was visibly distraught for days. He wandered around aimlessly, lost without his Mrs. But he pulled up his big boy pants and carried on. He would prevail.
But hence- he did not. This story has no happy ending, no dramatic conclusion that includes Queen’s 'We are the Champions’ playing in the background as Mr. Wasp sends that last bit of wasp honeycomb filling substance into the final hole, then stands on the filled honeycomb with his little wasp arms raised in victory.
What this story does have his a hungry frog who took up residence in the barbecue ending the saga of Mr. Wasp- a story of obsession, lost love, broken community and a structurally unsound honeycomb.
In early June we uncovered and opened the barbecue that sits on our deck, to use for the summer. There in the lower righthand corner, stuck to the cover, was a honeycomb and 2 wasps. We obviously couldn’t cook with it there, so we decided to remove it. But, being the procrastinators we are, opted to put off the the task for another day.
The summer heat wave hit quickly and mercilessly and the thought of grilling in 95+ degree heat- yeah it just wasn’t going to happen. I began to watch these wasps, who I decided were a couple. They worked feverishly on filling the honeycomb, which upon examination, I found to be a fascinating and complex structure. I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell these tiny creatures with tiny brains created it.
As the weeks passed, Mr. and Mrs. Wasp recruited other wasps to fill the honeycomb and great progress was made after a dozen or more joined the now growing wasp community. They’d walk around and around the honey comb until they found that perfect hole. They’d then stand over it with their tail end releasing a wasp honeycomb- filing substance for hours, possibly days, until the hole was full. Filling hole after hole, they labored with great dedication day in and day out and slept under the outer rim of the honeycomb at night. It was a truly magnificent site to watch.
We still planned to remove it but as more and more wasps joined in and the honeycomb became more and more filled, I began to have reservations on destroying all their hard work. Luckily, with the heat still way into the 90’s through the first weeks of July, it wasn’t a decision I had to make yet.
By the time it cooled down a bit, it was already August and in my ridiculously empathic mind, way too late to crush their little world and destroy all their hard work. They weren’t bothering us, how could I conduct this act of radical destruction against them and their creation? I couldn’t. The honeycomb would stay.
Just when the honeycomb hit over 50% full, the unthinkable happened. I came out one morning to have my morning tea on the deck and checked on the wasps, as had become my summer routine, and found the entire wasp community in complete utter panic and disarray. The honeycomb had sort of collapsed into itself. Entire sections were sunken in and the structure as a whole was warped and misshapen. All the precious wasp honeycomb filling substance that they had labored so hard to fill into the holes was gone, with the exception of one small area. The wasps were in obvious distress buzzing and walking around surveying the colossal damage, I suppose unable to wrap their little wasp brains around what had happened. I had no idea what caused this, but I assumed, at the time, the heat had somehow melted it.
The wasps composed themselves and carried on, starting over. They resumed the task at hand and continued to fill the little holes. Progress was relatively quick and within a couple of weeks had a good amount of the holes once again filled. Then, it happened again. And again.
One morning I came out to have my tea and all but two wasps were gone- Mr. and Mrs. Wasp I presumed. All of the other wasps had collectively thrown in the towel and abandoned ship.
I imagined they must have had a town meeting of sorts to discuss ‘the problem’. Likely they all gathered together on the barbecue grill and discussed the failure of the honeycomb. I imagined Mr. Wasp passionately arguing his case, pleading with his fellow wasps to carry on, to stay the course, adminently declaring that they would overcome, if they worked together, stayed strong and continued on. I could picture Mrs. Wasp silently standing by her husband, despite believing deep down in her heart that the honeycomb was unstable and doomed. But what could she do, Mr. Wasp was her husband after all, her partner in flight, her ying to his yang. She would stand by her man.
But atlas the wasp committee, a chosen board of wise old wasps, would render it’s verdict- The honeycomb is structurally unsound. All the wasps but Mr. and Mrs. Wasp packed up their little Wasp belongings, said their good- byes and moved on, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Wasp to weather the storm alone.
For the next 2 weeks together they labored. Long hours, little sleep, they exhaustingly filled the holes alone. Then one day Mrs. Wasp had had enough. She pleaded with her husband to throw in the towel. She told him that she loves him but just can’t throw away her life on a pointless pursuit. The honeycomb would not be filled and she could no longer be any part of it. Mr. Wasp pleaded with her to stay, she pleaded with him to go. We can rebuild somewhere else she cried, we can make it work here he countered. But he was obsessed, a wasp driven by an irrational need to fill an unstructerly sound honeycomb. Her mother had warned her about wasps like him. She had to go. And so she did.
Mr. Wasp was visibly distraught for days. He wandered around aimlessly, lost without his Mrs. But he pulled up his big boy pants and carried on. He would prevail.
But hence- he did not. This story has no happy ending, no dramatic conclusion that includes Queen’s 'We are the Champions’ playing in the background as Mr. Wasp sends that last bit of wasp honeycomb filling substance into the final hole, then stands on the filled honeycomb with his little wasp arms raised in victory.
What this story does have his a hungry frog who took up residence in the barbecue ending the saga of Mr. Wasp- a story of obsession, lost love, broken community and a structurally unsound honeycomb.
Comments
Post a Comment