‘Humans call me docile, though spiders have another view’: my week as a tarantula hawk

I’m a vegetarian. Humans call me docile, though spiders have another view. But I can sting all right, for the sting is the pride and glory of a wasp – and my sting is the most painful of any insect: “Blinding, fierce and shockingly electric,” says Justin Schmidt, a hymenopterist (an expert in bees, ants and wasps) so he should know.

Monday

I have an egg to lay and that means action. I spent the day flying about looking for a tarantula. A nice, big, hairy and, above all, juicy spider. Though not for me: I keep my strength up with nectar and pollen.

Tuesday

OK, no luck in searching, so I tried luring. Land at the burrow of a tarantula and pretend to be some helpless bit of trapped prey. Tapping and strumming away at the webbing. And out she came, a proper big bugger, and that’s good, not bad. She was five, six times my size – and at three inches long I’m no midget. But I stung her all right. It was never in doubt. I have a sting not far off half an inch in length. The problem with a really big spider is not the battle but the weight: it was a long hard drag to the hole I had chosen. But at last I got the beast out of sight and laid my egg on top of her. Job done.

Wednesday

The Schmidt Pain Index is a league table of stings for us Hymenoptera – wasps, bees and ants. Nought is for those poor things that can’t even pierce human skin. Schmidt described level one as “almost pleasant... a lover bites your earlobe too hard”. Two is a honeybee, three an ordinary wasp. We are in category four: “A running hairdryer has just been thrown into your bubble bath.”

Thursday

I didn’t kill the tarantula. If I’d killed her, she would go off before my little grub was hatched and ready for the treat. No, she is still living – just paralysed.