Sandy, Bedfordshire The fly’s head tipped again somewhat, eyes the color of a drained strawberry, its legs frozen, as if in ecstasy
Sitting down on the wheel of the automobile I discovered my view by the windscreen partially obscured by two massive bugs having intercourse. A minimum of, this was how issues regarded from the motive force’s seat. A solitary wasp had mounted its mate and wrapped its forelegs fondly round its neck. It had managed to anchor the each of them to the sloping glass with its rear toes.
This wasp was an angular Audrey Hepburn of bugs, narrow-waisted with a pencil-point slender stomach and an impeccable gown sense of yellow and black hoops and bars. It had pulled huge time, for its “accomplice” was a whopper of a catch – an enormous home fly, its coarse-haired, scabby, bulbous, stomach flattened in opposition to the display.
Associated: Time passes extra slowly for flies, research finds