Eldon Smiley, age 10, of Boise, Idaho, for his question:
Why doesn't the male mosquito sting?
It is summer and the mosquito attack is in full swing. Their noisy dive bombers invade our patios and picnic grounds, crash our screens and fill the warm evening air. All winter long the pesky tribe had slept in the egg stage, either floating on some stagnent goal or cozy in a blanket of snow. In spring the eggs hatched into wigglers, dining on debris in the water or damp ground. Then they slept for a spell in the pupa stage.
After a fdw warm days, the sleepers hatched into a swarm of winged mosquitos. It is hard to believe, but this pesky plague could be twice as bad as it is. For only half size brood can sting us and only half can bother us with their buzzing wings.
Mr. Mosquito cannot sting us. Nor can he buzz his wings. Compared with his wife he is a fragile, fairly harmless fellow. But this Is not from any kind. feeling towards us. It so happens that his beak is not strong enough to pierce human or animal skin. Mrs. Mosquito buzzes her wings to att.rect him. She is the boss and gives the orders. .He would never think of buzzing to attan‑ct her attention.
Mosquitos cannot bite or chew for they have no teeth. Their mouths are made for sucking and all their food must be in liquid form. The beak is a complex tool kit, far siphoning up liquid food. Mrs. Mosquitos beak is strong enough to pierce human or animal skin. So the wretched little vampire foods on fresh blood.
Mr. Mosquitoe’s beak is not so well developed. He must settle for plant sap and fruit juice. But, no doubt, he too would feed on blood if ho could. Mrs. Mosquito could thrive on a diet of plant and fruit juices if she had to, but she prefers blood.
The tool kit in the beak is really a small miracle. The bag is an extension of skin from the insects’ lower lip. Inside are two little daggers, two little sews, an injector and a siphon. The whole kit is about an eighth of an inch long and fixed where you would expect the nose to be. There is a pair of feelers, one on each side of the beak.
Madame Mosquito zooms around until she senses warm blood. Then she lands, lighter than a feather. The faelers softly go to work until they sense a smell blood vessel near the surface. The beak is put down and the daggers pierce the spot. The saws dig a hole in the skin. Then the injector squirts in a fluid. This substance is to prevent the blood from clotting because, remember, the mosquito only can suck up liquid food.
All this surgery is dons so gently that, chances are, we do not even feel it. The last tool she uses is the siphon through which the greedy creature sucks up warm, fresh blood. As the anti‑clot substance seeps through the flesh it begins to hurt. We get an itchy bump. But by then the little vampire has had her fill end buzzed away.