The Poison Box
Last year, a horde of yellow jackets built a nest in the upper corner of our front porch in a matter of hours. I didn't realize what was going on until I walked outside and thought I was in a cloud of flies. Then one stung me, and I saw a nest the size of a loaf of bread under the eaves. I bought some wasp poison that sprayed at a nice, long distance and destroyed the nest with it. It was quite a mess to clean up, but at least I didn't get stung again.
Fast forward to this summer.
My summer office is the front porch. I sit in the cool shade on our comfortable outdoor furniture surrounded by trees and potted plants while I write on my laptop. The end tables are a set of 100-year-old shipping crates made of oak or maple that would survive a bomb blast. I often wonder where these crates have been and what they've held. Two of the crates are open boxes, but the third has a lid on a hinge. They add a nice, rustic look to my office. This year, I added a free-standing fountain from the garden store. It's a set of interconnected pitchers done up to look like ancient Greek pouring jars, and the water runs in an endless stream from the top jar to the middle jars to the bottom. It sits on the lidded crate. I like the sound of trickling water while the mourning doves call in the distance. It's a very nice space.
A couple days ago, however, I noticed several yellow jackets buzzing around the lidded crate under the fountain. They were crawling in and out through two particular cracks. Oh, geez. I got the wasp poison and from a safe distance, sprayed into the cracks. A number of yellow jackets flew out and died and created a small killing field outside the crate, but an hour later, there were just as many of them as before.
I hate yellow jackets, for all the usual reasons. They sting without provocation, and do it repeatedly. They don't pollinate plants or do anything else useful. They're the assholes of the animal word.
I put on a sweatshirt, long pants, a hood, and gloves and slowly, carefully pulled the fountain off the lidded crate. The fountain, of course, was full of water, so this was quite a trick. The yellow jackets buzzed around, disturbed by the vibrations, but they didn't go for me. With the fountain gone, the lid was accessible. I used a broom handle to pop it open.
A cloud of yellow jackets boiled upward, and I retreated. When the damn bugs calmed down, I edged close enough to peer into the crate. Another yellow jacket nest, bigger than the previous one. It looked like an Elephant Man tumor clinging to the inside of the box.
By now, I was almost out of wasp spray, so I sent Max to the store for more. (This is what teenagers are for.) When he got back and I was fully armed and armored, I stood back and let the nasty nest have it. I emptied most of the bottle into the nest, in fact. The startled yellow jackets rushed around, trying to figure out what to do. Most of them dropped to the porch, dead or dying. I hosed the nest some more until the entire thing was saturated. No stings--the bugs didn't connect me with what was going on.
I let the thing sit for a few hours, then came out to check on it. A few survivors scraggled around the ruined nest. I sprayed them--die die die!--then smashed up the remains of the nest. It crumbled into damp fragments, revealing hundreds and hundreds of dead baby yellow jackets. They looked like giant maggots. I cleared out the chunks, hosed the box clean, and let it dry. Then I put the box back in its usual place.
Within minutes, more survivors were buzzing around the cracks, trying to get in. Seriously, dudes? I shooed them away and rearranged the furniture on the front porch. I put the fountain on the ground where the crate originally sat (better positioning anyway--I did get nervous that the fountain was too heavy to sit atop the crate) and put the crate in a different spot. The survivors buzzed around the fountain. Where was their fortress? Their queen?
But it didn't take them long to find the box in its new spot. Grousing, I opened the lid and filled it with a cloud of insecticide, creating a poison box. Then I sprayed all the cracks with more insecticide. Ha!
This morning I came out to work and found yet more survivors flitting around the porch. They don't go near the poison box, but they hang around my fountain. I have the can of insecticide with me, and whenever I see one--GOOSH!
Yellow jackets. Yeesh!
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Fast forward to this summer.
My summer office is the front porch. I sit in the cool shade on our comfortable outdoor furniture surrounded by trees and potted plants while I write on my laptop. The end tables are a set of 100-year-old shipping crates made of oak or maple that would survive a bomb blast. I often wonder where these crates have been and what they've held. Two of the crates are open boxes, but the third has a lid on a hinge. They add a nice, rustic look to my office. This year, I added a free-standing fountain from the garden store. It's a set of interconnected pitchers done up to look like ancient Greek pouring jars, and the water runs in an endless stream from the top jar to the middle jars to the bottom. It sits on the lidded crate. I like the sound of trickling water while the mourning doves call in the distance. It's a very nice space.
A couple days ago, however, I noticed several yellow jackets buzzing around the lidded crate under the fountain. They were crawling in and out through two particular cracks. Oh, geez. I got the wasp poison and from a safe distance, sprayed into the cracks. A number of yellow jackets flew out and died and created a small killing field outside the crate, but an hour later, there were just as many of them as before.
I hate yellow jackets, for all the usual reasons. They sting without provocation, and do it repeatedly. They don't pollinate plants or do anything else useful. They're the assholes of the animal word.
I put on a sweatshirt, long pants, a hood, and gloves and slowly, carefully pulled the fountain off the lidded crate. The fountain, of course, was full of water, so this was quite a trick. The yellow jackets buzzed around, disturbed by the vibrations, but they didn't go for me. With the fountain gone, the lid was accessible. I used a broom handle to pop it open.
A cloud of yellow jackets boiled upward, and I retreated. When the damn bugs calmed down, I edged close enough to peer into the crate. Another yellow jacket nest, bigger than the previous one. It looked like an Elephant Man tumor clinging to the inside of the box.
By now, I was almost out of wasp spray, so I sent Max to the store for more. (This is what teenagers are for.) When he got back and I was fully armed and armored, I stood back and let the nasty nest have it. I emptied most of the bottle into the nest, in fact. The startled yellow jackets rushed around, trying to figure out what to do. Most of them dropped to the porch, dead or dying. I hosed the nest some more until the entire thing was saturated. No stings--the bugs didn't connect me with what was going on.
I let the thing sit for a few hours, then came out to check on it. A few survivors scraggled around the ruined nest. I sprayed them--die die die!--then smashed up the remains of the nest. It crumbled into damp fragments, revealing hundreds and hundreds of dead baby yellow jackets. They looked like giant maggots. I cleared out the chunks, hosed the box clean, and let it dry. Then I put the box back in its usual place.
Within minutes, more survivors were buzzing around the cracks, trying to get in. Seriously, dudes? I shooed them away and rearranged the furniture on the front porch. I put the fountain on the ground where the crate originally sat (better positioning anyway--I did get nervous that the fountain was too heavy to sit atop the crate) and put the crate in a different spot. The survivors buzzed around the fountain. Where was their fortress? Their queen?
But it didn't take them long to find the box in its new spot. Grousing, I opened the lid and filled it with a cloud of insecticide, creating a poison box. Then I sprayed all the cracks with more insecticide. Ha!
This morning I came out to work and found yet more survivors flitting around the porch. They don't go near the poison box, but they hang around my fountain. I have the can of insecticide with me, and whenever I see one--GOOSH!
Yellow jackets. Yeesh!
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