For days now a procession of wasps have been landing on the top railing of our cedar deck and poking around for three or four minutes at time. Finally, this afternoon I figured out what they are up to.
If you look very carefully at the photo above you may be able to see that the area in front of the wasp is a lighter color. The wood is not painted. That grayish-white color is actually the color of fresh cedar that is just beginning to weather. What's happening is the wasps are chewing off this weathered, oxidized layer. In the process they leave behind areas of raw wood that shows up in this photo as a blond color.
They are doing this all over the surface of the railing, but they tend to focus most on the curved edge, probably because they can get their mandibles around that contour more easily. As they move along they roll up a little gray ball out of the stuff and then fly off. I'll keep trying to get a shot of that. Presumably they are using this material to manufacture nests. I've never seen this behavior before, so if someone has a different take on it, please post it here as a comment.
My oldest daughter and I spent a few days camping in southeastern Washington last week. We set up base at Lewis and Clark Trail State park, which is located on State Highway 12 roughly midway between Waltsburg and Dayton. It was a decent enough campground, road noise notwithstanding. However, the site is more heavily infested with invasive plant species than any other camping area I’ve ever visited. All the usual suspects were there, and in force: blackberry, English ivy, knotweed, clematis vitalba, hawthorn, reed canary grass, and so on. There were also a number of other obviously aggressive plants, but I haven’t finished identifying them. There are plenty of native plants in the park, including some good sized ponderosa pine and cottonwoods; but the main “attraction” is the number and variety of aggressive plants draped all over these stalwarts.
We are in the habit of naming our camping sites after key features – e.g. Camp Rabbit; Camp Magpie; Camp Scat. We named this one “Camp Chaos.”
“It isn’t an adventure until something goes wrong.” Yvon Chouinard
Our mission for this outing was pretty simple. First we were going to spend a day at Palouse Falls, about 45 miles by good road to the north of camp. Next we were going to spend a day poking around in the Umatilla National Forest, which lies just a few miles south of the campground. On our way up to the falls we ran into a fast moving brush fire and stopped to take a few photos. We arrived on the scene at the same time as the first responders. The blaze was moving through fields of wheat stubble, and large chunks of sooty debris kept flying over our heads. However, it soon became apparent that containment was going to be a relatively simple matter. We watched for awhile longer, until so many onlookers had gathered that we felt if was getting too congested.
It was mid-day before we arrived at the falls, but even in that kind of flat light the place is still wonderfully impressive.
After getting our fill of the standard views we decided to hike a trail that takes you to the top of the waterfall itself. It was a short and relatively easy hike (about 1.5 mile round trip), but the heat was something else.
As it turned out here was no safe vantage point from which to look directly onto the falls, so we settled for a few shots of the adjacent areas and then headed back towards the visitor center.
The next day we headed south out of Dayton towards a place called Oregon Butte, an active fire-spotting post in the northern section of the Umatilla National Forest. It’s been a hard fire year, but so far this part of Washington has been spared. However, along our route into the forest there were plenty of reminders of past disasters.
The Tee Pee trailhead is well marked and the trail itself is reasonably well maintained. Round trip is about 6 miles and it tops out at 6,387, putting the elevation gain at 987 feet. But it’s an up and down hike and my legs and my Garmin both tell me total elevation changes coming and going added up to nearly twice that much. Even so I’d label it low to moderate in degree of difficulty, even on a hot day.
When we topped out we were on a very narrow ridge. And perched out on the edge of that ridge sits the Oregon Butte Lookout.
Built in 1931, this post is manned (more accurately “womaned”) for three months out of the year. “Julie” is the spotter’s name and I wish we had been able to spend more than a few minutes with her. What an interesting persona and what a fascinating life-style.
Before we left Julie graciously offered to take a picture of me and Erica. Another great summer moment from a year that keeps on giving one wonderful family experience after another.
A honey bee, KIA. Moments earlier she was sipping nectar from the flowering oregano in the boxes on our deck. Then, out of nowhere, a bolt of yellow-and-black lightning caught her broadside and sent her tumbling to the boards below. She gyrated across the wooden surface for a few minutes, trying desperately to right herself and become airborne. But the force of the blow not only dislocated her right wing, it must also have broken her back. She died within two minutes.
I turned my attention to the assailant, a stocky brute of a thing that was patrolling the flower boxes. A yellow-jacket, I decided, but not one of your garden-variety, western specimens – much more compact and heavier of build. Perhaps one of the European varieties that are relatively new to north America, but are becoming widespread in the Pacific Northwest – Paravespula germanica?
I watched this character at work for several days and was tremendously impressed by how relentless and aggressive it turned out to be. It is easy to spot because, unlike its more common North American cousins, it tucks its legs while flying. This habit, along with its stocky build, makes it look a lot like a bumble bee in flight. It is, however, much faster and much more maneuverable than most of the other flying insects that visit the boxes from time to time.
Its entire raison d’etre appeared to be (1) drive off any flying insect that was not of its own species, and (2) mate with any wasp of its own species that stopped off in the flower boxes for a sip of nectar. I am not sure what species-recognition methods it employed to determine foe from femme – probably auditor in most cases, but perhaps the females were sending out pheromone signals as well. At any rate, whenever an interloper appeared, the wasp would instantly attack, flinging itself full force against its foe. (It was just such a maneuver that downed the honey bee.) If the attack was unsuccessful the first time, the wasp would instantly attack again – and again and again, if necessary. Inevitably it proved victorious, regardless of the relative size of the foe.
The mating behavior was only slightly less brutal and every bit as relentless. When a female stopped by to sip nectar the wasp would immediately begin to stalk her. When a positive ID had been made, and when a clear lane between the two would open up, the wasp would pounce on the female and pin her in place on the flowers. Mating took anywhere from 5 to 15 seconds. When the business was finished, the wasp would take off on patrol again, and the female would go back to sipping nectar pretty much as if nothing had happened. If the wasp encountered the same female again during his patrol, he would simply pass her by, showing little or no interest.
After the attacks/matings, or after long periods of patrolling, the wasp would quickly take on nectar from several flowers and then settle down on a leaf to rest and groom.
At one point I could not resist the temptation to capture a couple of these creatures for closer examination. Accordingly, I loaded a spray bottle with water and a little dish-washing detergent and shot down a mating couple. Once I had them in a container I put them in the refrigerator for awhile (about 30 minutes) until they were essentially comatose. Then I shot this picture:
My original intention was to turn the pair loose once I was finished with the photos. But something in my technique was flawed – fatally so for the wasps. I’m sorry to say, while both were alive when I put them into the refrigerator (about half an hour), neither survived for more than a couple more minutes after I took them out. If someone knows a better non-lethal capture method, please drop me a note.