The Wolf Wasp-inator

Imagine, if you will, a slender, blonde wolf with short hair, a classic thick bushy tail, a long, dark muzzle on a distinctly wolfish face, and inquisitive but innately intelligent brown eyes. That was my Angel. Her name was apt not only for her good looks, but for a loyalty to her family that was legendary. Angel was wild like the country in which she was raised; we called it Big Sky Country, otherwise known as Montana. She decided to explore that big country several times and could be gone for several days at a time. However, if there was something that I could always count on, like the return of the long, cold winters high up in the Montana mountains, it was that Angel would always find her way back to us. I will always believe it was because of how she felt about us, her human pack.

Angel expressed emotions, and the one that emoted the most vividly from her was happiness. The corners of her mouth would literally turn up into a smile, her eyes would light up, and she would prance around us like a dressage horse, looking up in anticipation with her tongue lolling out of her mouth. This sight was both delightful and amusing, since most of the time she was such a dignified animal and carried herself with such poise. She knew she was a wolf and considered herself better in all ways to other dogs. It was like she understood her direct connection to the wolf, or canis lupus, as all other modern dogs are distant descendants of wolves, and like she held a certain disdain for the long lineages that have separated the other dog breeds from the pure wolf line. In truth, she was only about sixty percent grey wolf herself, as the members of her original pack were mixed with Malamute and Husky. She had a personality right from puppyhood, with distinct preferences which were easily understood by the human counterparts in her pack. When I told her we were going camping, the prancing was particularly vigorous.

My husband and I are camping enthusiasts, to say the least, and Angel always accompanied us. A desert rat and survivalist who grew up in Orange County and spent time in the Mojave Desert of California, my partner in life had a true appreciation and respect for the unique ecosystem that is the desert. He proposed a camping trip to Utah in order to explore the National Parks which truly put the wonders of the desert on display. Meh, I thought. What is there to see in a desert of grey sand? He smiled a patient and knowing smile at me and we headed to Utah, complete with a truck full of gear for the extreme conditions of the desert habitat. Angel was totally game and adaptable to any habitat in which we cared to spend time.

We had set up camp near an outpost in Canyonlands Park at the base of a huge pink, red and white mesa. Our party of three was the only one occupying the campground at the time. Angel was tied to the heavy wooden table that was provided at the campsite; having used a light, fifty-foot chain, Angel had a large area that she could freely move around, but she liked the table because it provided shade for her from the hot desert sun and she would contentedly lie at my feet beneath it. Darryl was barbequing bratwurst sausages and hot dogs and he passed me a plate.

Suddenly, a meat wasp appeared out of nowhere and started trying to take her share of my food. I shrank away from the wasp, and as a wave of fear went through me, I felt Angel come to attention under the table.

Meat wasps, or yellow jackets, are not large as wasps go, but they can bite with strong mandibles and sting repeatedly because unlike their bee relatives, they do not lose their stinger when they sting. They are bright black and yellow in color and I have always been intimidated by them because their stings are painful and I can have an allergic reaction which can quickly become life-threatening.

It was not long before three wasps were zoning in on our food, and more were showing up by the minute. They were dive-bombing my plate and landing on my hot dogs and I was making no attempt to touch my food.

I felt Angel climb on the bench beside me with her front paws, and I saw her watching the wasps buzzing above my plate with rapt attention.

The next thing I knew, I heard,

SNAP, snAP, PATOOEY!

To my utter astonishment, Angel had grabbed a wasp out of the air, crushed it with her jaws, and spat it out! She dispatched another one in a similar manner seconds later. The sound was like an empty animal trap being sprung and reset in quick succession, followed by the spatting sound when she expelled the wasp from her mouth.

SNAP, SNap, SNAP, PATOOEY!

The third wasp she grabbed fought back and stung her in the lip. Her eyes grew wide; she shook her head from side to side, snapped her jaws a few more times, and spat the wasp out. I thought she was done, but she only paused a few seconds, then she raised her lip; her face had on a snarling grimace and her impressive set of teeth was showing. She then continued dispatching wasps methodically but quick as a flash each time, all the while keeping her lips parted, until every wasp in the vicinity of our table was dead! She was stung more than a few times during this process. I surveyed a large area of ground around me that was littered with wasp corpses.

I picked up my hot dog and finished my meal in peace, all the while ruminating about the love of a wolf that was so strong, she would endure being stung more than once to protect her favorite person. Angel received a hot dog, complete with bun and condiments, for her efforts that day. She just smiled and emoted happiness.