Wheel on the Hayle: v. 3 (Valley of Dreams). Dieser Artikel ist nicht verfügbar.Wheel on the Hayle: v. 3 (Valley of Dreams)

"Everybody likes wasps!"

"Well I don't!" Jan replied firmly. "Must you bring it in here?"

It was early May. Gordon entered the door, carefully carrying a small object on the palm of his hand. The nest had been discovered while spreading the last remains of a dozen loads of topsoil tipped by a friendly lorry driver in April, the same soil that had caused him to get so wet two weeks before. The job was almost finished, most of the newly spread area already seeded, though with dry May weather likely to persist, germination was now somewhat doubtful.

Jim was not really helping, he seldom ventured this far but had come to inspect progress and picked up the spare shovel largely to lean on. Suddenly, a queen wasp zoomed from the ground to fly tight, and one could easily think somewhat menacing circles around their heads. Jim hated wasps; long ago he had been stung on the back of the tongue after eating one on a slice of bread and jam, and had almost choked when the flesh swelled. In an uncharacteristically adroit but most regrettable parry with his spade, Jim killed the assailant when only a temporary strategic withdrawal was needed. However, the damage was done and they bent down to investigate the soil from where the unfortunate insect had appeared. In a hollow under a partly rotted turf, the nest, smaller than a tennis ball, hung with its entrance at the bottom. Without the queen, the sole egg laying machine, this nest was no longer viable. Prising off the attachment to the turf and handling the delicate sides with great care Gordon had carried it back to show Jan. As he quickly became aware, she was less than thrilled!

The nest had reached a stage where the first grubs had pupated but none hatched. Jan, inspecting it guardedly and with positive disapproval, was nevertheless intrigued by the little paper ball. Assured of the absence of any live wasps, her concern relaxed and it remained on the desktop for others to see. The children, curiosity aroused, peered into the small opening. They had never seen such a nest before. It was surprising that grubs in the tiny cells continued to move. To help compensate for loss of the queen's body heat and the insulation that surrounding soil had once provided, the desk light was shone on them. No one knew if wasps needed extra heat but this nest was exceptionally early; most wasps appeared in the warmth of summer so they must like a higher temperature. The small 12-volt bulb emitted considerable heat as well as light but its use, while easily met by the waterwheel during daytime, did unfortunately reduced the lighting available for evenings.

A day later the first wasp emerged and was immediately given the name Anne; they often called their pets after Royalty. Usually Jan approved but in this case she was, to say the least, uncertain.

"Had I known one would hatch out, I would never have agreed to the nest coming indoors. She will probably sting you, serves you right! She had better not come near me!" Jan's lips compressed in the tight thin line as she issued the warning, waving a rolled up newspaper threateningly, but there was a hint of humour in her flashing eyes.

They knew the wasp was female; the males, drones for mating, were only bred later in the season. Gordon put his hand protectively over Anne until Jan left the room, still making swishing sounds with swipes through the air at an imaginary foe. After she had departed, he cleared a space on the desk for a small wooden drawing board, and on this arranged the nest with Anne inside, and some flat plastic lids containing water, jam, and meat. Several small pieces of old dry wood were added for nest building. Wasps' nests are entirely made from wood, pulped up in those strong jaws then moulded to form horizontal layers of downward facing cells inside a spherical paper envelope. Each cell layer hangs from the one above by little ropes of paper. The nest is usually made underground, often under a tree among the roots.

Anne became more active, but rather erratic! She spent much time with her head in one of the apparently empty cells and in spite of plenty of wood around, made no attempt to repair the slightly damaged nest. Probably she could detect the absence of the queen, around whom every wasp's life was normally organised. Gordon felt sorry for her and except when Jan was around, seldom bothered to keep the clear plastic dome in position. (It was one of those propagation domes with vents at the top. Matchsticks provided an improvised air gap underneath). Later in the day Anne tried her first flight, only to fall on to the floor, her wings not quite perfect. He carried her back to the nest clinging to a pencil-sized paintbrush.

Jan, seeing the incident, put on her 'We are not amused' expression and wagged a finger in air. Opening her mouth to say something, she hesitated as if lost for words, pursed her lips in determination, then repeated the warning.

"Just let her fly into my kitchen!"

A further day passed and Margaret emerged, closely followed by Elizabeth; all very similar in appearance. To ensure he did not offend by getting the names mixed up, a tiny dab of quick drying enamel paint in different colours was placed on the thorax of each. Names are so important! Watching the wasps, Gordon's mind drifted again, as it so often tended to do. He recalled an incident that occurred several years previously when they were still leading a normal life. He had taken Jan to the firm's Christmas dinner party. For the first time they were on the top table with the directors and senior designers. Jan was sparkling in an evening dress, her hair perfect, lots of shoulder showing above the plunging neckline, lips very red and slightly moist he noticed. Following tradition, everyone presented their partners, the rest feigning polite interest during each introduction. Being most junior, Gordon's turn was last, and awaited with a certain nervousness, though he felt proud to present the best looking girl in the room.

"May I introduce..."

He froze, hunting frantically for the name. No good! It was gone! They had been married five years and he couldn't remember her name! The polite interest changed. Tension hung palpably round the table. Now there was real attention, real curiosity, even envy. Jan had suddenly been promoted to the rank of Mistress; beautiful, naughty, and therefore utterly desirable. That, without doubt, was definitely the men's reaction. The ladies lifted their noses a little higher, as if something malodorous had appeared suddenly in their midst. Jan grew even prettier in the red that slowly spread across her cheeks. Probably his own colour was no better. Suddenly he had it!

"This is my wife Janifer."

It came out in a rush. No one was convinced, but politeness and convention saved the day. Jan was the recipient of a great deal of male attention throughout the meal and afterwards in the guise of kindness and concern, and he never realised that his own standing among the chaps was so high. Apparently being able to 'pull' a 'belle fantastique' as the French might say, carried merit far above merely marrying one!

His thoughts returned to the wasps. They too, might well be offended if he got their names muddled, they were after all female, and females can give you hell later if you get their name wrong!

Paint dots would prevent this. Using the stronger colours first, Anne was yellow, Margaret crimson, and Elizabeth white.

"Yellow," Jan insisted, "is totally inappropriate for Anne."

"No, no! The colours have absolutely no significance. I chose them solely for their brightness," he insisted.

The latest arrivals also spent much time with heads in apparently empty cells, listless and with no apparent desire to undertake the normal, well-organised, industrious work of a wasp's nest. Gordon had persuaded all three, with a little encouragement, to eat syrup off his finger. Margaret, the only one so far who...