In a rush to propagate their species, the wasps are also out in full force. So if you were wondering why I was on my way home so early in the morning it's because I went to wage war on a nest of such creatures at my mom's house.
The thing is, maybe they weren't wasps but hover flies, which I just now took time to research thinking I needed to quit calling them bees and figure out what they really were. Regardless, they were pesky and seemed aggressive, so they had to go. My husband and I had been there last week in the evening to take care of them, but nobody was home. I don't mean my mother, rather all the insects were out to dinner. I kind of forgot about them until I was visiting my mom earlier this week and they were hovering around her open front door. I have no idea what we were talking about I was so focused on the angry pests.
I mentioned it to my husband last night who was on his way to bed. He suggested I get up early and take care of it in the morning before the wasps went to work (only my husband has to get up before dark).
I've been reading a Phillipa Gregory historical fiction novel about the queens of England and Scotland in the 1500s. It's set during King Henry the VIII earliest years starting before he was king. Scotland and England were at war and his older sister was sent to marry the Scottish King as part of a peace treaty. Of course that only held until England decided to invade France, which was Scotland's ally. So Scotland invaded England.
Scotland lost that one, even losing their king in the battle because the English were on their wet, home turf and staged a kind of sneak attack on the Scots as they headed over a mucky hill. The English were waiting on the dryer bottom part of said hill and killed them off as they got stuck in the mud. I felt as if I was going to do the same thing with those wasps.
My husband gave me marching orders last night: "the can of wasp spray is under the phone on the boxes, you won't need a ladder because it shoots out several feet, and you'll have to wash your hands when you're done because the spray kind of leaks. Then stand back and prepare to run."
He woke me up when he left at 4:00 am to tell me he'd closed the window because he heard shots in the middle of the night. I was in a dead sleep. I don't care if he closed the window, I wouldn't have noticed until I got up anyway, so I can only think he was preparing me for battle. We often hear shots at night. It's usually some stupid neighborhood hoodlum shooting into the air or more likely it was a teenager protesting the early morning wake up for school today - if they can't sleep in, no one can.
I headed off down the road at 6:10, can of poison, gloves, and my wits to protect me. Sunrise was at 6:26, the weather was warm yet drizzly, perfect for a sneak attack on unsuspecting victims. I drove into my mom's driveway, and parked. As I crept up to the nest, it appeared no one was home. I wouldn't let it fool me, though, they were in there. I had a moment of panic when I realized I was horrible at those carnival games where you aim the pistol full of water into the clown's mouth, which is what I felt like was about to do.
I stood my ground, aimed, the spray shot out of the cannon... uh can, and landed directly onto the nest. Wasps poured out like a raid at a brothel. Immediately paralyzed, screaming in little wasp voices, "Retreat! Retreat! Save yourselves!" they dropped to the concrete below. One tried to escape along the top of the roof beam. I yelled my battle cry (in my head), "No one escapes on my watch!" I shot him down. I won!
I crawled back into my car, drove the short distance home, swaggered in with no one to congratulate me. I poured myself a stiff cup of coffee and sat down to eat breakfast. I was famished from my efforts.
I was called to war and responded. It was a battle well won.