I’m an aphid; Green Peach they call me. It’s 8:15 am. For the past hour I’ve been contentedly sucking away at the juices of the plant upon which I sit. I’ve stopped eating for the moment, though. I hear this strange tapping sound coming from the leaf above me. The smell of alarm is strong in the air; a ladybug is about. It’s making me nervous, for the ants which normally protect me, for the mere price of my honeydew, are presently nowhere to be found. It’s just me and my family here now — alone and in grave danger, I fear.
I can see the ladybug now, she has jumped down to our leaf from the one above. She’s looking at my sister. She lunges and takes her. My sister gives me one last look; her mouth forming an “O” of terror and surprise. As fast as it began, it’s over. The ladybug, sated looking for the time being, pauses to lay some eggs. All the while she is casually glancing over at my brother. A look of admiration? I think not.
Just as I begin to quietly slip away I hear a thrumming sound-like rapidly beating wings. My terrified mother, who’s also trying to edge away from the temporarily busy ladybug, looks up. I follow her shocked stare. What we see makes us stop in our tracks: it’s a parasitic wasp. She’s not much bigger than I, but very deadly all the same. Although we have not had any first hand experiences of this sort, my mother and I have heard stories. The parasitic wasp lights on the leaf next to my mom, but I can tell it’s my younger brother she wants — she can’t keep her compound eyes off of him. Oh, and she gets him too. Jabbed him with her ovipositor. Ouch! That must’ve hurt.
Mom ran like hell (some mother); it’s just me here now, all alone. Oh, no. I’m next I begin to realize. The ladybug and the wasp are bickering back and forth over who will have me first. Much to my dismay I now realize I have no place to run; no place to hide — I should’ve bolted with mom. I’m surely a goner now. Now resigned to accept my fate as is, I turn to kiss my [expletive] good-bye.
Suddenly the leaf darkens. What’s happening? Night? No, it’s still early in the day. A shadow? Yes, it’s a shadow. From? oh, yeah, it’s the grower’s shadow! Oh, goody, he’s got his sprayer, too. ‘Tis my lucky day. The ladybug and mini-wasp see him too and try to flee, but they’;re too late. The spray soon covers us all.
The ladybug is now belly-up; the wasp an unsightly heap. Neither is a threat any longer. Me? I’m okay. The spray that the grower used doesn’t bother me — I’m resistant. I am aphid. I am invincible. I am free to feed another day.
But, man, I wish those ants would hurry up and get back here.
