My Mourning Yellow Jacket

Last Tuesday, I noticed a couple of bees of some sort buzzing around my back door. By Wednesday night, I was on the phone with the exterminators. They were not bees. They were wasps. They’d found an opening in the patio light fixture that must also lead into the walls, where dozens of them promptly set up a nest.

The exterminators were supposed to come out on Thursday, but had to reschedule for after the weekend. By the time the technician showed up this morning, wasps were coming and going non-stop. The technician identified them as yellow jackets and figured that there are at least a couple of hundred of them in there. Possibly much more.

He sprayed a toxic powder into the nest and around the entrance. The poison doesn’t kill them right away, but even in the meantime, they do not care for it one bit. The wasps inside the nest are trapped and have to cross through the toxic powder to get out of the nest, which is full of the very same poison. The wasps outside the nest do not want to cross the poison to get back into the nest, but they very much want to get inside. As a compromise, they’ve been working their way into the house. I’m not sure how, but there are multiple ways they might get in if they’re persistent. And they are.

I first discovered they’d breached when one landed on my arm and proceeded to light me up with sting after sting. Only, it didn’t hurt. I think it was a male. Apparently, only the females can sting, but I suppose a fella has to try to avenge the death of his tribe.

More were soon to follow, but they’ve mostly been bouncing around in the kitchen. They lack the vanguard’s murder lust. I’ve been fighting them off with an electric badminton racquet. I’ve killed about two dozen so far. Things are settling down as night sets in. I expect they’ll be in ruins by the morning.

Fingers crossed.