A sting in the tale - the sequel

Several people have commented expressing surprise that I was being so tolerant towards the wasps that had made their nest in my front yard. Those who know me very well, my family in particular, know that I have a very strong aversion to the type of wasps we have in the UK, and had it been those I would have lost no time in eliminating the horrible beasts as soon as I first noticed them. But this species is quite different. They are very much smaller and more delicate and dainty looking. They fly around in a dreamy, floaty, dangly-legged sort of way, with none of the aggressive, buzzing persistence of their European counterparts. And unless they feel threatened, for example by someone recklessly waving items of laundry around in the immediate vicinity of their nest, they seem remarkably placid and keep themselves pretty much to themselves. The biologist in me was fascinated by their behaviour, and it wasn't until their increasing numbers and their agitated state began to worry me that I felt the need to do anything about them.

Ropalidia marginata - Red Paper Wasp

 

After the destruction of their nest, there were about a dozen remaining individuals that reassembled at the nest site. I watched them closely to see what they would do. At first they seemed rather dazed and confused, but after a while they began to engage in undefined but apparently purposeful activity, and I was concerned they were going to start rebuilding the nest. I decided I needed to get rid of them once and for all. I had noticed that early in the morning, before the day warms up, they were very dopy and sluggish, so, working on the principle used by police officers when going after gangs of criminals (i.e. catch them in bed with no clothes on), I decided upon a dawn raid.

 

There was no problem with getting up on time for the attack on Sunday morning, as I was already wide awake well before 6.30 due to loud talking and laughter coming from neighbours down the road (more on that later). I dressed myself in the most protective clothing I have here - jeans, denim jacket and even a pair of gloves that I brought with me because VSO insist that you should wear proper protective gear on your motorbike. The gloves had previously never been put to use, VSO's policy being completely inappropriate for motorbike riding in a hot country, but now they were about to come into their own as an essential item in my wasp-sting protection gear.

 

I went outside and, with an unlit straw broom in my left hand for emergency swatting purposes, I let rip with my can of cockroach spray. Some of the wasps fell immediately. Others flew off. One came straight towards me, so I sprayed again, and then realised I needed to relocate to the other side of the yard before I choked myself to death on the toxic fumes within which I was enveloped. One wasp landed, wriggling and writhing on the front step, so I gave it a few more squirts to try and finish it off quickly, but sadly I know from experience that this stuff takes time to work, and that the poor wasps will have died slow, twitching deaths.

 

Here's one I killed earlier

 

Once I was sure they were all gone, I gave the nest site a really good clean with my kitchen cleaner spray to deter any unlikely survivors from returning, and then went back to bed, hoping for a bit of a Sunday lie-in. Silly me. After a short while, loud, booming music started up down the road. I tried to ignore it for a bit and then decided to do the unthinkable and go and tell the neighbours responsible that it was far too early on a Sunday morning for such a racket. One is not, of course, meant to make a fuss, but hey, I'm leaving in a couple of weeks.

 

I dressed again and went down the road to investigate. The noise was coming from the new apartment block that my landlady has been building. They were getting ready for the official opening ceremony and had installed a massive sound system in the front yard which was responsible for the cacophony. My resolve crumbled as I realised that protest was pointless, so I returned wearily and lay on my bed for a while, listening to the thumping music before finally getting up. The celebrations down the road went on all day with music, speeches, monks tunelessly intoning and, in the evening, painful karaoke, all generously blasted out over the sound system so that the rest of the neighbourhood would not feel excluded from the fun. It eventually went quiet around 10.30pm, which I was very relieved about, as I had visions of it continuing into the small hours.

 

As for the wasps, there have been no returns. I occasionally see a lone individual flying around, but the nest-building enterprise has been brought to a definite halt. I still feel sorry about it - I hate to destroy nature, but on occasion it seems to be the only sensible choice.

 

UPDATE: when I came home at lunchtime today, what should I see flying around but one of those horrible hornets. I guess they must have a nest somewhere nearby as well...