Nature's Place

Just a little smudge of black on the wood at first sight.

It occurred to me to stop and look, just in case it was something to shoot.

Because often you don’t know until you get up close what it is.

And it was. She started to move soon after but not enough to fly away.

Yet … But it’s inevitable, every flying creature takes to the wing soon enough.

Gotta work fast sometimes …

Small wasp feeding on the pokeweed flowers found growing wild in the bush.

Blue billygoat weed for background. Another food crop for the little ones when much else is dormant.

The plant, ink/pokeweed, is said to be poisonous and it probably is, I haven’t tried it, and probably won’t.

Though I have tasted the dark ripe berry, where I got my seeds, and dried them in the sun. Before I knew.

It’s what children do with luscious dark red berries, though a ‘natural’ caution kept it to a taste, not a meal. … With a bit of luck I’ll have my own pokeweed plants flowering around the garden soon enough.

A common enough wasp around these parts, just not at this time of year.

Immobile on a flower in the middle of the day, unusual for a hungry wasp. Still there when I got back with camera.

Then without any notice she took off, I couldn’t follow with old eyes. Just as well we were going to the same place.

Where I work in the garden. The table with pot plants on it, and trays with water in them. So she could drink her fill.

So quiet she was I thought I’d try some background, a leaf from the nearby passion fruit vine, carefully placed.

And she didn’t mind being moved, we had an understanding, no unnecessary activity. But she wasn’t leaving.

Just a few shots for the record, my record. The green allows some detail in the shadows, contrast is necessary …

… a world of difference. After a while I gave her my warm finger and she climbed on without pause, the cool wind.

No sign of her stinger, so relax … She snuggled up, close as she could. What else to do on a cold windy day.

To soak up the warmth of it I suspect, and was very patient with me. She wasn’t interested in the butterfly bush.

She prefers meat, I think. Nectar at another time maybe. First things first tho, warmth for the rest of the body being.

She had adopted me, as a source of life and nourishment, warmth. And wasn’t going to let me go easy, so it seemed.

We are more dangerous to them than they are to us, though people don’t realise it from inside their emotions.

The first egg, of many to come, unless the nest is destroyed. It’s what people do in fear and lacking understanding, not to mention the care it takes to avoid disturbing a nest of this kind, situated as it is and in proximity to people.

She can be dangerous, fierce in her protection of the nest, with a sting she’s famous for. But not so careless as to throw away her life without cause. And so is the window for mutual respect, due care and attention to her needs.

After using a small 12″ laptop for 5 weeks I really appreciate these pictures on a bigger 24″ screen. So much better, more detailed, and easier on these old eyes. If you are on a small screen see them on a bigger one, even the TV.

From three cells to four, future development in mind, she builds her castle a room at a time. She uses her antennae to listen to her egg developing. I’m sure she can hear things we can’t. And isn’t she photogenic, against a clear background.

Day and night she climbs all over the nest, checking for any flaws in the structure or signs of invasion by other creatures that would take advantage of her work. Watching out for the health of the egg. Such is nature, ever vigilant.

Here she is laying the second egg. It’s as close as I could get without risk of disturbing her or the nest, and that wouldn’t do for my photogenic friend. I would have her survive the season without having to move home mid-birth.

After a short while photographing her she got used to me and no longer made those staccato dancing moves that indicate she is on the verge of alarm. If I had stayed longer she would have come to accept me as part of her nature and so would the offspring, though still wild, make no mistake. Some of the best safaris happen in the garden.

Bedraggled, this is what it looks like just after you’re pulled from a watery grave.

Not too bad looking from the other side. A sign of life in the lift of the antennae, the set of the legs.

Recovered some from the prospect of certain death. Death is always certain, not always imminent.

Getting up … those stag antennae, legs set apart in support of the body’s weight, sitting on a stick.

Getting some nice background. You’d think a captive, so to speak, subject would be easy to manage.

And it usually is for a while, but nothing alive stays still for long, and I don’t use artificial means.

On the move again, time to alter positions and angles to see what presents. Life surprises sometimes.

Almost fully recovered now, getting set for take off. You can usually see it coming, an attitude …

And there you go … a wave as s/he turns away for the great sky beyond, never to be seen again, until … maybe.