Friday 7 November 2014

A sting in the tale

For many months I have been watching with interest the progress of a small group of wasps that had started building a nest on the clothes drier in my front yard. At the start there were only about four of them, and for a long time the nest remained so tiny and insignificant looking that I doubted whether it was a serious enterprise at all. I thought maybe they were a small band of deluded outcasts, or that the nest had been abandoned and they hadn't realised and were continuing to tend it in vain.

Nevertheless I continued to watch them with some fascination. Their activities seemed mostly to involve lots of leg-waving and abdomen-waggling - possibly in order to try and regulate the temperature of the cells? Gradually the nest increased in size and there seemed to be a few more individuals working on it. I could clearly see now that many of the cells had been sealed over, no doubt containing the larvae growing inside. The workers seemed very tolerant of my presence, and I continued hanging out my washing without any thought to the possible consequences.


 
Last weekend I had hand-washed a shirt and took it outside to hang up. We are continuing to have occasional rainy spells (most unusual for this time of year), so when I went out my poncho was draped over the lower rungs, having been placed there the day before to dry. I moved it over to vacate a rung for the shirt. Then, as I lifted the shirt to hang it I suddenly felt two painful stings on my arm and hand. I yelped and looked up to see the wasps descending upon me. I ran helter-skelter back into the house, waving the wet shirt lasso-style behind me to ward off the wasps.

For a moment I went into panic thinking that maybe Thai wasps are super-venomous and that I was about to die. Then I got a grip on myself, took an antihistamine and went on-line to get some information. My research seemed to confirm that taking an antihistamine was a sensible response and also suggested I should wash the sting sites and apply antibiotic cream, which I duly did. I monitored myself carefully for any signs of an allergic reaction, but the antihistamine did the trick and the local pain and swelling disappeared very quickly.

I began to wonder if perhaps I should do something about getting the nest removed, but I was reluctant to do so, having watched their industrious and meticulous labours for so long, and in any case, I thought, I only have a few weeks left...

A few days ago I came home to find a huge, black, hornet-sized creature at the nest. At first I thought it was the queen laying eggs. However, the massive disparity in size between it and the workers made this unlikely, and on close inspection I saw that it was rolling something between its legs and eating it. Further fascinated research (where would we be without Google?!) has led me to the conclusion that this was one of Thailand's various species of massive hornet, (this one? or this?) and that far from contributing to the reproductive endeavours of the colony it was attacking the nest and eating the larvae. The poor little wasps were unable to mount any sort of defence and simply cowered at the edge of the nest waiting for the intruder to disappear. It was back again the next day for dessert.

Not a very clear picture (I didn't want to get too close!) but you can make out the hornet hanging upside-down from the frame on the right.

After these attacks the wasps seemed to redouble their efforts. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot more of them and their activity was more frenetic. I began to wonder again more seriously about getting the exterminators in. I was beginning to feel distinctly nervous each morning as I manoeuvred my way past on my motorbike and when I parked up again in the evening. Also, I began to think it's all very well that I'm leaving soon, but what if the next person to live in the house turns out to be allergic to wasp stings and they accidentally disturb the nest because they don't realise it's there and end up dying from anaphylactic shock. Then I would be responsible for their death through my negligence about resolving the problem.... Once thoughts like that start going round in your head, you can't really ignore them!

So today I asked at work if there was such a thing as pest-control professionals who would deal with such things. The response was confused laughter, so I guess not! At lunch-time I came home and the wasps were looking more lively that ever. I phoned the young lady who acts as go-between for me and the landlady and tried to explain the problem. Her English is very good, but the conversation was hampered by the lack of a few key words - such as "wasp" for a start. I explained that it is a type of flying insect that stings, but "sting" was also unfamiliar. My explanation that it's a bit like a bite but from the other end didn't really seem to help very much. Anyhow, I managed to get across that the situation was very dangerous because there were loads and loads of these ferocious beasts in my front yard and that they were likely to attack anyone who came near them and that it would be necessary to get someone in who knew what they were doing in order to eliminate the threat. Ok, maybe I exaggerated a bit, but it did the trick. She rang the landlady immediately and then phoned me straight back to say that someone was on their way NOW.

Sure enough, a minute later someone appeared at my gate. No doubt one of the workmen from the apartment block the landlady has been building down the road, he was scantily attired in a flimsy vest, shorts and flip flops and was armed with a very tall ladder. Rentokil he certainly wasn't!
Looking at the ladder, I wondered just how much had indeed been lost in translation and what he thought he was coming to confront. When I showed him the nest he made a noise that would probably translate as "Oh, right!" He then put down the ladder and indicated that he would be back in a minute. Meanwhile, I retreated back inside the house and positioned myself to watch the proceedings in safety from my bedroom window.

He returned shortly, armed with a traditional Thai straw broom. Somewhat alarmed, I thought for a moment he was planning to bash it down with that, and I thought he must be either incredibly brave or incredibly daft. He turned out indeed to be brave, but not daft. He produced a lighter from his pocket and applied it to one corner of the broom until he had an impressive flaming, smoking torch burning, which he promptly applied to the nest. Some of the wasps were killed outright, but many flew off and my saviour leapt nimbly back, brandishing his broom as several of them went for him. He swatted a couple more dead before re-lighting his torch and going back in for a second round. Once there appeared to be no more active wasps in the vicinity he reached up and plucked the nest down. At this point I gingerly emerged from the front door to thank him, and after a few more swats of his broom at a couple of persistent individuals he picked up his tall ladder and went on his way.

I had a meeting in the afternoon, so I decided it was best to leave the house quickly before any of the survivors came back to survey the damage. When I came home, I discovered that the problem has only been partially resolved. The nest is gone, but the remaining workers, of which there are quite a few, have regrouped and are clustered sorrowfully at the old nest site, clearly totally disorientated and wondering what to do with themselves. I did contemplate whether I should try the flaming-broom technique myself and get rid of them completely, but I fear I lack the nonchalance of Man-In-A-Vest. And anyway, I feel terrible for having brought about the destruction of their enterprise. I wonder what they will do next. Will they start again with a new nest, or will they eventually wander off and go their separate ways? Cold season is on its way, so perhaps they were due for hibernation soon.... Clearly I don't know much about wasp life cycles and seasonal habits - time for another session on Google perhaps?!

1 comment:

  1. This is SO well written. Particularly loved the man-in-the-vest.

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