With his nieces either old enough they wouldn’t break any of his individually glass-encased insects, or moved so far away they didn’t come, John had a birthday dinner in his home again. It did not protect from surprises, though.
He stared at the joint present, purchased under the direction of his younger sister, if her grin was any indication.
“I remembered you were looking for one.”
“May, I meant the species of wasp, not something you need specially made.”
Hanging from claws on six spider legs from the roof of its cage, the startled tarantula hawk ruffled its wings.