A few days ago I found a wasp in my room.
It seemed cruel to kill her. A late spring is finally dawning in Minnesota after one of the coldest winters in recent memory, and any summertime bug with the tenacity to survive that doesn't deserve a helpless death under the weight of a rolled up newspaper. I took out my camera, and she, sensing her cue, posed in a ray of sunlight and let me take pictures while she removed a piece of lint from her back leg.
The next day I found her curled into the carpeting, dead.
A few nights later I noticed a dark spot exploring the crevices of my ceiling. It was a little spider, running her nightly laps - up the corner, across the ceiling, back down the wall and over again. There was something endearing in her frantic pacing. What might this hyperactive insect be looking for, or running from, or trying to forget?
She also got her glamour shot.
As far as I know she is still alive, exploring the space behind my walls. I just hope she doesn't get eaten by a centipede.