How could a city so near a desert – the great Gobi, of Flight of the Phoenix fame – be ridden with mosquitoes? The netting I’d hoisted over my bed was far from impregnable, so I needed to devote my utmost attention to the mosquitoes before turning in for the night. My bedtime kill record was twelve.
Beetles and moths, bees and roaches fascinated me. They weren’t exotic in any safari sense, but subtle differences in color and shape underscored the fact that I was halfway around the globe. Wishing I could share them with friends back home, I scooped them into a plastic cup and shifted them to a Ziploc bag to starve and mummify. Soon this Ziploc held around thirty unique insects. Could I sneak such a bag through customs? Would doing so kick off an intercontinental pandemic?
Questions like these didn’t bother me – the hunting was fun.
Eventually I managed to snare what I’d dubbed the Terminator Wasp. By “managed” I mean “screwed up enough courage,” because the beast was double the largest wasp I’d seen in America. At that size its black, segmented features resembled the monster in Alien. Every time one of these predators entered my screenless windows, I cowered.
Gradually I made some timid swipes with my little plastic cup until eventually, by blind luck I’m sure, it was trapped. Once in the Ziplock its jagged, sharp appendages probed relentlessly for an escape. I checked and rechecked the bag’s seal.
By dinnertime it was gone – chewed a hole straight through. As a farewell courtesy it had ripped to pieces all my other insects, leaving the Ziploc with a tossed salad of wings and thoraxes and antenna.
Thus ended my entomological pursuits.
January 14, 2008 at 1:41 pm
Why does your post on bugs have pictures of bicycles?
Love the story, though. I’ve had similar feelings (but to a smaller extent, I’m sure), seeing fireflies in the East/Midwest, or even the ubiquitous hummingbirds here at home.