JOY ALONG THE WAY: CHEERS TO ALMOST ALL WINGED CREATURES

Winged creatures have always fascinated me. They seem to move so effortlessly, so blithely. Have you ever seen a tired butterfly, bug, bird or beetle? They don't have to vie for a parking space, have no head-on collisions. I like to study them -- the bugs -- under my magnifying glass. They don't want to sit still for this but this past week I've had the opportunity to see two, one up close and personal.

There was this bug on the underneath side of a leaf of my heavenly blue morning-glory vine. In the shade, it appeared to be just any ordinary kind of little black bug. I brushed it off. It landed on a porch rail and, to my amazement, it turned into gold. Not any old lustrousless gold, but bright and shining as 24 carat gold. Fleetingly I thought of the story, "The Gold Bug," but a bug in a book is nothing like a bug with a live body.

This bug was about the size of a small peppercorn. It seemed to have frozen in motion. I prodded it gently and it moved, on its own, about 1/16 inch. "Stay there, Nugget," I commanded and hurried for my magnifying glass. It obeyed my order. So, with the glass, I had a better look. Its black head was so tiny it was hardly noticeable. Same for tucked-in feet. I wondered at the effort it had made to crawl at least 10 feet up from the ground to the leaf. I got a toothpick to prod it a little more. I wanted to see it in action. To my amazement two gold wings that had so tightly covered its body opened up as if preparing for flight. I quickly withdrew the prod. More action from the gold bug ensued. Underneath the golden wings was another set of wings, beautifully iridescent, with two little red dots that could have been beetle rubies. These wings went into action as if some pilot in that tiny head was positioning wings for action. All four wings fluttered as if to show off their beauty. Then, away, away it went into the morning sunshine, a flying jewel.

I went to my beetle and bug book for information. I learned that at present there are 195,000 known species of beetles. At the end of the description of beetles' habitats and life cycles, I was referred to a related subject called goldsmith beetles. I hurriedly looked up that information. It was not my gold bug. It said a goldsmith beetle is a large yellow beetle that lives in trees in the eastern United States and flies only at night.

So much for the gold bug. Now let me tell you about another winged creature. This one "bugs" me. It is the red wasp. A member of our community opines there are no red wasps around here. "C'mon out. I'll show you some red wasps." They are all laid out on their backs in a neat row on the same porch railing, motionless wings spread wide, feet in air frozen in claw-like position, euthanized. And I have a hand and arm still aching, itching and swollen from a sting. I still admire their ability to fly, but have no inclination to put a live one under my magnifying glass.

It happened thus: I began to paint the roof of a miniature birdhouse which is a part of my porch decor. One stroke of green paint and out stumbled this black-winged red menace. Right in the valley between my thumb and forefinger it made its presence known. I hurried for my usual wet paste of baking soda. This time it didn't work. Hey, immune system, we've come a long way, don't give up now!

The swelling, intense pain and itching has not gone beyond my elbow, but I'm going to get me some kind of anti-sting medicine for future wasp forays.

When I could manage it, I got my wasp spray and squirted it into the hole of the birdhouse. Out reeled, drunkenly, three more brick-red devils. They, of course, had built a nest inside and were defending their territory. One admires them for that but not for long. May all such malevolent creatures use those marvelous wings to fly far, far away. Meanwhile I've taped shut the hole to the little ornamental birdhouse. At least, I taped it with one good hand. No mean accomplishment.

REJOICE!