I have a confession to make. Some time I guess when I was about, what, twelve, I did a particularly bad thing. It really is hard for me to even remember this let alone talk about it, but I will. Perhaps someone out there can learn from my failure, and I can make a difference. Okay. I used to squish mud daubers. Thats right. Mud daubers. Or dirt daubers theyre also called. Anyway, in the Summer, when I would get home from tennis practicegod this is hardI would go around the front yard looking for these little brown wasps. And so I would spot one and chase it around the yard as it hovered a few feet off the ground, doing whatever it was doing, I guess looking for mud. And I would sneak up on it, slowly, stalking it, until I was real close. Then in one quick motion I would bring down my tennis racket, trapping it underneath. The wasp would then sort of be forced to settle onto the blades of grass all bent under the strings of the racket. Then I would lift the racket up and the wasp would just be crawling and clinging onto some blade of grass. About an inch or so longits oval-shaped abdomen extending outward like the mixer of a cement truck. Just crawling. And confused. Then I would stomp it. Smushing it into the ground with my shoe. And the ground was soft of course, so sometimes I would lift my shoe and it wouldnt be totally dead. It would just be sort of injured and aimlessly listing about. I hope to god I didnt let that go on very long. I really do. But then I would find another. And another. Until I couldnt find any more. I dont know why I did this. Maybe I had been stung by one once? Maybe I was afraid of them. And hated them. I dont remember. It was a long time ago.