Natura ne uimeste mereu…
Recent, un prieten mi-a trimis niste poze cu ce facea o viespe pe la el prin bucatarie. Era exasperat, gasea si posibil sa mai gaseasca cuiburi sau cate o viespe moarta sau paianjeni.
Initial a crezut ca este o viespe care depune oua din care ies paianjeni :)
Din cateva poze, asadar, sa ne dam seama despre ce poate fi vorba.
S-a bagat intr-un dulap si a inceput sa construiasca. Doua sunt gata, al treilea nu.
Realizate operele de arta dintr-o argila, lut… coconii adica.
La indepartarea lor interiorul se prezenta astfel:
Erau plini de paianjeni.
Pai, filmul acesta uluitor nu e chiar greu de inteles. Paianjenii sunt capturati pentru a fi devorati de viitoarea insecta inchisa in cocon.
Cu ajutorul Google am aflat si alte detalii: este vorba de o viespe solitara (care nu traieste in familii), nu inteapa nederanjata, isi construieste casute in care baga paianjeni semi-paralizati de veninul ei, alaturi de oul de viespe. Larva de viespe ca sa se faca mare, consuma paianjenii. Dupa vreo 3 saptamani iese o alta viespe care reia procesul.
Isi gaseste drum spre bucatarie etc doar daca geamurile sunt permanent deschise, altfel nu construieste nimic. Deci, in mod sigur, geamurile sunt lasate zi-noapte deschise…
BUCEGI NATURA 2000 
Ce interesant! Nu am mai vazut asa ceva. Adica nici nu am auzit de asa ceva. Noi avem in afara balconului, dar ferit de de stalp, un mic fagure.
Poza o poti vedea aici:
https://suzanamiu.blogspot.com/2023/12/miercurea-fara-cuvinte-388-aleatoare.html
Natura este evident uimitoare.
Toate cele bune!
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Chiar interesant, cred ca intrau in casa daca geamul s-ar fi deschis.
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Your post reminded me of this great little masterpiece I read several years ago in one sitting. Yes, one of those little books you just don’t put down!
His Name was Death Paperback – November 16, 2021
by Rafael Bernal (Author), Kit Schluter (Translator) A Wall Street Journal Best Science Fiction Book of 2021A bitter drunk forsakes civilization and takes to the Mexican jungle, trapping animals, selling their pelts to buy liquor for colossal benders, and slowly rotting away in his fetid hut. His neighbors, a clan of the Lacodón tribe of Chiapas, however, see something more in him than he does himself (dubbing him Wise Owl): when he falls deathly ill, a shaman named Black Ant saves his life―and, almost by chance, in driving out his fever, she exorcises the demon of alcoholism as well. Slowly recovering, weak in his hammock, our antihero discovers a curious thing about the mosquitoes’ buzzing, “which to human ears seemed so irritating and pointless.” Perhaps, in fact, it constituted a language he might learn―and with the help of a flute and a homemade dictionary―even speak. Slowly, he masters Mosquil, with astonishing consequences… Will he harness the mosquitoes’ global might? And will his new powers enable him to take over the world that’s rejected him? A book far ahead of its time, His Name Was Death looks down the double-barreled shotgun of ecological disaster and colonial exploitation―and cackles a graveyard laugh.
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