The Tarantula Hawk
Sometimes I blunder into things unintentionally and it’s only later that a connection emerges to enlighten me.
The photo on the right is a case in point. When I snapped the picture, it wasn’t clear what I’d captured. I’d been on an extended road trip through the Southwest and had arrived in Texas in April where I took this guy supping at nectar. Turns out, he’s a slayer of giants. Of very particular giants.
It would be another encounter with the wild things of Texas that led me to discover this creature’s superpower. A little background first.
I’d been enjoying the evening sky from a little picnic table at my campsite when I flipped my headlamp on to go to the washroom. No sooner had I flipped my headlamp on that I caught a glimpse of a sizable tarantula on the picnic table right in front of me.
There was no mistaking it — about the size of a small crab and hairy. I’m not sure who ended up being more startled, me or the tarantula. I slid back on the bench as the spider quickly retreated to the table’s underside.
I’d counted on scorpions and snakes, but somehow had forgotten about tarantulas. Of course they’d be here in Texas. Just hadn’t figured on finding one on the campsite table right in front of me.
About a week or so later I was finally able to identify the insect. Turns out it’s a male tarantula hawk, or Pepsis grossa, a type of wasp that preys on…tarantulas. Which is confusing because both male and female wasps are nectarivorous, meaning they survive on the nectar of plants.
Here’s the switch: the female tarantula hawk hunts tarantulas for future generations, not for itself. It does this by paralyzing a much larger spider, then returning it to the burrow alive for its larvae to feed on. Yes, you read that right: the spider is kept alive as food for wasp larvae.
One other fascinating fact about tarantula hawks — their sting is considered the one of the most painful of any creature on the planet, second only to bullet ants on the pain index.