Six English Queens, One Hippie, One Mission
Lately I have been noticing that some of wasp nest holes had white buldging covers over them. Then yesterday, I saw that on the nest of Catherine of Aragorn, there were two wasps, the second being somewhat smaller than Catherine herself. On closer examination of Ann Boleyn's nest (one of the easiest to see, since it's out in the open just above my kitchen counter), I saw that one of her covered holes was uncovered, and the head of a tiny little wax worm was bobbing up and down.
Oh God the day has come - they have made children. I didn't think it would be so soon! So I went to every other nest I knew of, and began taking notes on their development. OH GOD! Catherine Parr - more covered holes. Ann of Cleaves has two babies. Catherine Howard has three. And Jane Seymore...Jane Seymore is dead. Her nest has no larvae, she has been missing for days. The extent to which these insects are actually sometimes aligning with the history of these English queens is somewhat unexpected. But Elizabeth I is also dead. Then, looking around at all of my nests and further exploring the school bus I found an 8th nest that I hadn't known of before. How on earth. I thought I had seven, but actually had at least eight. How many more are there? Now two of them are dead, and I am down to the six wives of Henry VIII, and their increasing number of offspring. The eighth nest has become the new Jane Seymore.
Everyone who knows about this tells me something like, "If I were you, those bugs would be long gone." But I am one hippie with a mission. A DREAM. I can't say for sure how this will turn out... They could wind up becoming too much. But suppose I did live an entire summer in a studio-style schoolbus with six active paper wasp nests there where I sleep? Suppose my schoolbus was absolutely full of paper wasps and I still lived there and was fine? It would an utter triumph of human/creepy animal coexistence. I will show the sterile plastic sanitized world and its sheepish ripple-suppressant culture of fear that at least one venomous creature from everyone's schoolchild fears can actually live with us in relative peace.
Assuming it can.
I will take the mythology of man verses nature and untangle it where it stings.