Flight of the Cicada Killer

Flight of the Cicada Killer




It was one summer in the early 1980’s when I had my first introduction to the nature and capability of a massive solitary wasp…known as the, “Cicada Killer.” And in truth, I had already studied and captured almost every form of wasp, bee, and/or hornet in the Central Mid-West...jarring each cast of potent insect warrior, and commonly pitting these creatures against one another.

No doubt, I had occasionally witnessed the massive frame and the lumbering buzz of the “Cicada Killer,” wasp, as one sped past me, perhaps in search of a natural crevice or burrow, before blasting skyward like an angry humming-bird. Still, never before had I experienced a direct, visceral confrontation, with this super-insect…and all of that was about to change.

Indeed, I had been the “Master Captor,” of many great specimens, none greater than a 10+ inch, “Chinese Mantis,” I had discovered at, “Cahokia Mounds,” (approx: 1978)... and while I had waged most types of insect counterparts against great Manti, never had I known or captured a contender such as the, “Cicada Killer.” But…that day would finally arrive.

Perhaps it was August, as the commonly misnommered, “Locusts,” seared their memorizing songs of deep summer…but I knew and loved them for what they truly were, “Cicadas.” And as I had heard before, one great insect solo artist would suddenly end his serenade with several frantic and interrupted bursts. Finally then, I was able to see a mature cicada as it sprung from its high refuge…often pursued by a hungry predator. Usually, the attacker was a bird…but for one brief glimpse, I witnessed a giant wasp, in full aggression, attempting to take down a fleeing cicada. "My God," I thought, "I must have that insect! I must capture that super-wasp!"


I was on a routine insect-recovery mission, scouting the outward regions of my family’s property, and slightly incurring into all of the neighboring yards, when I heard the unmistakable sound of a cicada in distress. This time, the distress was quite continuous…and as I located the source, I came across a gruesome scene.

The alarm came from deep within the “Shield’s,” property, my neighbors region, and perhaps an acre away from my home grounds. This was an especially dangerous territory, as Dr. Shields kept several, stacked honey bee hives, deeply sequestered in his majestic backyard. Indeed, he had nurtured and harvested the mighty towers, and I had seen him pulling massive honeycomb slates, on an annual basis, from these sites.

In truth, I had interacted with these insect fortresses many times before, using mud-balls and extended garden hoses to exact chaos. Children have little compunction. I had waged wars against Dr. Shield’s innocent honey dwellers, and surely I was tacitly forbidden to be there. Somehow, I knew that.

Despite all reservations and treaties, I went past the great hives in the "Shield's," backyard, and around to the three-car garage at the dwelling's side. There, I witnessed a massive, “Cicada Killer Wasp,” mounting and paralyzing her adult cicada victim.

Marvelous!

I had never seen anything like this before…two gargantuan insects embroiled in mortal combat, the cicada overturned and blasting limited wing-bursts, and the wasp delivering its potent sting again and again. But it should be noted, I was aligned to the cicada… against the wasp (vespa), because wasps, hornets, bees and their kind had delivered me many painful experiences, most, due to my own provocation.

In truth, I had been stung over fifty times before the tender age of thirteen, and whether it was the dedicated and singular brand of a Honey-Bee at the neck, or the bullet-like repetition of a Bald-Faced Hornet to the inner-thigh, I was well acquainted with all forms of insectoid retribution. Furthermore, I was familiar with their tactics… the way all manner of wasps and bees organized and defended their domain. They all posted guards at the entries to their nests. These were the first response, air-cavalry units…vigilant and ready to assault, and as I knew, once they were repeatedly antagonized, these sentries would pursue and aggress… in excess of 100m.

Normally, my boyish legs could outrun any “Honey-Bee,” retribution I had inspired, but more than once I had been penalized by some of the “Shield’s,” hive-guards, after firing a close range shot...a handful of mud to their colony's entrance. Strangely, I will never forget seeing the two bee-sentries posted at the primary portal, just before I launched a mud-ball towards that critical epicenter… but even as I turned tail and fled, so to, the bee-warriors began their pursuit. They found me in full stride, just as I reentered my backyard, and they successfully delivered two targeted stingers, one to my scalp and the other to the nape of my neck. That pain, at that moment, yet rivals some of the most extreme I can remember.

Notably, honey-bees die after they sting, but their venom sack stays attacked to their stinger-barb, pumping away long after the initial delivery. So...even after I was safe inside my home, free from any persuers, I swore to my Mother that there was still a bee in my frock…stinging away!

“It’s still stinging me, Mom! It's in my hair!”

We would find the offender later, embedded in my pillow the next morning.

Anyways, back to the Cicada Killer, it was twenty feet from me…and I must declare the beast was well in excess of three inches. So…for all childish stupidity, I grabbed a nearby construction brick (the neighbors were doing some work on their house), and hurled the thing at the super-wasp, still gathering its prey. Amazingly, the brick just clipped the wasp, knocking it from its victim and then slamming into Dr. Shields freshly painted garage.

“Wow!” I was astounded by my own actions, already wondering what the ramifications would be, when suddenly, the mighty red-yellow super-wasp lifted-up, about ten feet, and then bolted directly towards me!

I could hear the weight of its angry buzz, as the Cicada Killer winged over my head, and while I ducked and scrambled across the asphalt, my aggressor circled for another run…with its promise of a sting never felt...never wanted, and beckoning like panic!

I came up from the pavement like an Olympic sprinter, launching myself back to familiar grounds, hoping it was enough…but it was not enough, for the massive wasp stayed with me, darting across my head and body like some sort of Kamikaze assassin. This wasp was aware, determined, and ready to deliver revenge. Apparently, as a singular hunter, the Cicada Killer, can cover large areas, recognize objectives, and act upon these directives with superior dedication.

Arriving at my own back door I threw open the screen, only to find the main-door was locked.

“Mom!”

Too late, the beast was upon me, blasting around and over my frantic person, sure to land and make good upon its promise.

The door finally opened, and I almost knocked my Mom over as I sought refuge.

“Jonathan, what are you doing!?”

I secured the door behind me…not even wanting to begin the explanation of the super-wasp now hunting me! “It’s a huge wasp, Mom! Huge!”

“Have you been over in Shield’s yard?”

“Mom, I’m not messing around with the Shield’s bees.”

“Well, why are you running around, going in and out, in and out…I have the air-conditioning on, Son!”

“Sorry,” I said, as I reopened the back-door, pressing my face to the screen and hoping to get another glimpse of my assailant.

“No!” You go IN or OUT, Jonathan!”

“Mom!”

“Fine…I’ll go out…whatever!” I hesitated. “But, there is a huge wasp out there…” I shook my head and stepped out..

Just then it reappeared, the massive Cicada Killer wasp, still enraged, no doubt, still harboring a lingering desire for revenge. It hovered in plain view, an incredible insect warrior…on a mission! My Mother could only let out a sharp wail, slamming both doors behind me and perhaps locking them… and there I was, left to my own advanced survival tactics, swatting and diving…running like all hell.

But, the Cicada-Killer, broke off its attack, and within minutes I could not resist returning to the original scene by the Shield's garage. Much like some sort of guilt-ridden criminal, I had to go back, and there, to my own amazement, the wasp had also returned, to her prey, dragging the cicada to the nearest tree, lumbering up the trunk to an elevation of about six feet, and then launching…victim on-board…homeward bound.

* * *

It would be almost fifteen years before I was reconciled with the Cicada-Killer again, and this was a completely different place and time…I was a different person…a young man.

Living with my girlfriend in an ordinary, Missouri, house, there was a small driveway leading to the rear garage, and along that fenced border, thick foliage and honey-suckle vine were present.

It was a day like any other, as I was standing on the back porch, when I heard the unmistakable sound of the Super-Wasp, and saw the thing drop down into the fence-line brush. It was a huge Cicada-Killer on the prowl. Also, by “huge,” I mean over four inches!

Perhaps the wasp was looking for alternative prey, like the massive Wolf-Spiders which commonly nested amongst the foliage, making funnel-webs across the exposed surfaces. But one thing was certain…the Super-Wasp had entered at ground level, and she would leave by the same path. So, I hurried inside and grabbed a big plastic cup, the first I could find (Quick-Trip style), but as I rushed back to the scene, the mighty wasp began to emerge. All I could manage was a paultry hand-swipe, before the beast rocketed upward, leaving me far behind, and leaving me far from satisfied.

Amazingly, just the next day, right place right time, the Cicada-Killer returned in full glory. She went directly to the same spot along the fence, whether her intended burrow, or to pursue her familiar hunting path, she was back!

This time was different, and despite the fear and excitement which filled my being, when the wasp came out, as it lifted skyward, I smacked the thing back down to the driveway with my hand, quickly covering it with a 32oz plastic cup.

And, certainly, I knew it was in there, because I could hear and feel the anger of my prey, this greatest of North American Wasp, hardly witnessed or seen, finally trapped…but not secured.

Immediately, I called my Mom, wanting to reminisce about our earlier experiences. “I’ve finally caught a Cicada-Killer!” Naturally she was less than inspired. (Thanks, Mom.)

Well, it was time to make the transition, to slide a piece of cardboard beneath the cup, and to deliver the specimen into its new domain. Therein, a fifty-gallon aquarium, was a formidable seven-inch Chinese mantis, who had been busy killing and eating every insect/arachnid form ever introduced, and waiting for this final interaction.


Carefully...I slid the piece of cardboard beneath the cup, slightly tipping the container in a procedure well rehearsed. Unfortunately, something went wrong. Even as I solidified this moment of entomological triumph, the Cicada-Killer peaked out from beneath the cup, pulsing her angry wings, and sandwiching herself between the lip and the cardboard.

I refused to deliver any pressure which may have damaged the specimen, and this was always the preeminent rule of entomological guidelines. But, to my horror and amazement, she emerged as I fell backwards, upon my ass…staring helplessly at the hovering, deadly, Super-Wasp!

Strangely, the wasp had full orbital control of its head, and it looked directly at me, perhaps contemplating whether to deliver retribution, instead, she hoisted her bulk upward, leaving me astounded and afraid, and unsuccessful. So, the Cicada-Killer took flight…and I could only watch, my heart pounding. It was over.

Never since, has the opportunity arrived, and especially to pit Mantis against Cicada-Killer, but no matter the fantastic possibilities of that outcome, somehow I will always know that it was better…to simply imagine!




Stay tuned for the next amazing, but true tale, of insect warrior encounters!