The Underground Man

I really hate wasps..

I just cannot fathom what purpose they serve in the great scheme of things. I figure they must be a link on the food chain--some small bird must eat them--but neither our swallows nor our sparrows appear to.

This summer they have been hugely successful in growing their numbers. I have undertaken an eradication program around my parents stables. Unfortunately, they seem to add new nests as fast as I zap the old ones.

Yesterday I was up on the roof of the stables to fix some leaky skylights (in preparation for the coming monsoon season--what is laughably known as winter in the Pacific Northwest) and discovered a couple of "hidden" nests. The skylights are plexiglass with an aluminum surround. They fit over a wooden coaming and are secured with aluminum rivets.

Over the last twenty years since the barn was built some of these rivets have given out, allowing the skylight to lift slightly and water to come in. Determined to fix it, I got up on the roof of the barn with power drill, wood glue, and long screws. Oh, yes.. and a little foaming wasp spray.

All was well (no nests sighted) until I drilled into the frame of the skylight. Literally boiling out from under the edge came about twenty very pissed off wasps.

I got to see one coming for me in ultra slow-motion. I didn't realize that they can fly almost vertically, with tail extended forward when they attacked.

Stung me just beneath my lower lip. Fortunately, my immunity to bee stings (they don't really bother me at all) seems to commute largely to wasps. A little cream on the wound, a little numbness, and a couple of hours later there isn't even a mark. Lucky me.

Today I will prophylatically spray the entire surround of each skylight before tapping on it from a distance (to piss them off and make them come out through the killing foam).

A dangerous job.

Bond, James Bond.

Posted by artandscience at September 1, 2004 09:12 AM