I thought it would be a contest.
I had avoided getting snagged in the spider web near the building鈥檚 front door, but the wasp buzzing me was less fortunate. Seeking a lick of salt or a nip of protein from my skin or perhaps even drawn to my natural floral scent, the wasp 鈥� likely of the species Vespula pensylvanica, the Western yellow jacket 鈥� had been in my face for a while.
It鈥檚 September, aggressive-wasp season.
With summer ending, easy picnic pickings and other food sources for wasps start disappearing. Wasps are having to work harder to find food, with no guarantees. And, just as people with plummeting blood sugar can quickly turn cranky and start acting aggressively, so too do starving wasps become angry and aggressive.
The yellow jacket pestering me looped around my head and glanced off one of the spider web鈥檚 strands 鈥� a close call. Its luck didn鈥檛 last, however. On its return journey, Vespula flew right into the sticky trap.
Now spiders know good meal vibrations when they feel them. The web鈥檚 bulbous, speckled and striped owner, one Araneus diadematus 鈥� also called the European garden spider, diadem spider, crowned orb weaver, and other honourifics 鈥� raced from the web鈥檚 edge to within a couple of centimetres of the struggling wasp. It paused, as if to assess the situation, because, you know, where wasps are involved, you want to avoid the stinger.
I too paused. Drawing on my extensive years of watching Nature red in tooth and claw鈥搕ype shows on National Geographic TV and the Discovery Channel, I thought, 鈥淭his should be interesting. I get to watch King Kong versus Godzilla in miniature just inches away from my face.鈥�
From that statement, you might surmise my youth wasn鈥檛 misspent watching only predecessors of Shark Week, The Hunt, Leopard Fight Club, and Ice Bear. Thanks to friends who regularly cased video stacks for classic, bad and awful monster movies 鈥� the more awful, the better 鈥� I acquired a very passing familiarity with Ray Harryhausen鈥檚 oeuvre and the likes of The Blob (1958), Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959), Gorgo (1961), Tentacles (1977), Eight Legged Freaks (2002), and other late-night favourites.
I must also acknowledge here the usefulness of a well-rounded university education. Thanks to diverse courses in history, English literature and the like, I also drew in this instance upon my purely theoretical knowledge of bloodsports such as bear baiting, cock fighting and ferret fighting that parted people of yore from their weekly wages and send animal activists today to march in the streets. You really do meet all kinds in the pages of Shakespeare.
Alas, the clash of the arthropods that was warming up before my eyes didn鈥檛 live up to the billing my lightning-quick imagination gave it. The monsters were unevenly matched, with Araneus outstripping Vespula in speed, strategy, and technique. It was as if heavyweight boxing champ Tyson Fury went up against The Big Bang Theory鈥檚 Sheldon Cooper.
It took Araneus less than an eyeblink to dart in and out at the wasp鈥檚 head. I almost missed it, but spidey had delivered its signature killer bite, injecting a dose of toxic venom.
You鈥檇 think that after a jab like that, Araneus would take its time. But in the spider web, as in the boxing ring, the clock is ticking. Even if Vespula鈥檚 guts were becoming a slurpable protein shake, the wasp continued struggling. It could still free itself from the web鈥檚 hold and fly 鈥� or fall 鈥� beyond the spider鈥檚 reach.
Best to wrap things up quickly.
So to speak.
I glanced away for just a moment, and by the time I looked back at the web, Araneus had swaddled Vespula鈥檚 body in a taut silk blanket, immobilizing the insect鈥檚 legs and anchoring it securely to the web. In less than two seconds, the spider had ensured its victory.
Vespula was down for the count. In fact, it was down forever, and would soon be a mere husk of its once-vigorous self.
One hungry wasp would feed one hungry spider, and Araneus diadematus was crowned champion in this garden-variety battle of the micro-titans.
