THIS IS THE MONTH THAT LITTLE PESTS RELISH
Hoping for the wasps to buzz off, instead they return for another round of stings
We’re chasing down a vaccine right now. There’s reason to believe that, before much longer, humankind will defeat the scourge that is COVID. It can’t come soon enough, right?
I keep hoping that mankind will make significant inroads into beating back a few other scourges. Other menaces that drive us indoors, other plagues that cause us to proceed cautiously, other miseries that suck the joy out of living.
I’m talking about summertime pests: wasps, ants, and mosquitoes. I could add fruit flies to the list, but they’re mostly a mild annoyance. To my mind, the burgeoning crow population is problematic, but if we could just find a way to effectively, environmentally, deal with those three insect pests, life would be considerably rosier.
August is the month bugs live for. For them, August is a smorgasbord of half-peeled humans, many of which bear gifts: festooned hotdogs, juicy peaches, and dripping ice cream cones. There isn’t the space here to share with you my many forays into the bug wars, so let’s concentrate on wasps. Why wasps? Because I have a vendetta with wasps. It escalated from a grudge match to a war several years back.
I’d been using a bamboo pole to remove dead plant material from a hedge.
Unbeknownst to me, there was a wasp nest in the granite wall beneath the hedge.
With my arms raised up over my head and wearing the absolute minimum because of the heat, they attacked. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening before beating a hasty retreat. I was stung from my elbow to my rib cage. Each stinger deposited toxin, as well. They weren’t exactly stingers, but irritating little filaments. My doctor friend, Kathy, laughingly lost count removing those little spikes.
About three painful days later, I’m walking guests to their car, demonstrating the encounter I’d had with the wasps. Unfortunately, I elected to retell this story through interpretative song and dance. I’m holding a pretend bamboo pole over my head and I’m mock waving it about while standing in the vicinity of the conflict. The wasps, having seen this movie before, instantly swarmed me. This time, the buggers got the bare flesh exposed around my waist. For the following week, it looked like I’d been hula-hooping with molten metal.
Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas offers an all-purpose combat tip: “Kill the head, and the body will die.” He may have been referring to drug cartels, but the strategy applies: You’ve got to find the nest. No number of lures will be able to deal with the battalion of wasps back at HQ. Pour yourself a tall, cool drink and settle in for some reconnaissance. Follow the wasps back to their lair and then annihilate them while they sleep. A tip: Wasps are not entirely sound sleepers. Do not wear high heels when doing this. Especially if using a ladder. Don’t ask me to explain.
I keep a spray bottle of diluted peppermint spray around because lore states that wasps hate peppermint. So far, I can tell you that they love salmon way more than they hate peppermint.
With this in mind, I’ve suspended a salmon head over a bucket of oily water. The wasps gorge themselves and drop to their greasy death. Immensely satisfying. Pheromone-based traps are highly effective, but high-ratio sugar/water solutions will generate casualties, as well.
They tell me that wasps are helpful pollinators, that they control other insect populations.
In August, they effectively control the human population, and I keep my fingers crossed, praying for new ammunition in this annual backyard battle. Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. Her garden is her major distraction during COVID-19. She writes on The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun.
THIS WEEK’S QUESTION FOR READERS
Q Have you had success in controlling wasps, or any summer pests? Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at thebooklessclub@gmail.com. We will print some next week in this space.
RESPONSES TO LAST WEEK’S QUESTION:
Q What’s your parking pet peeve?
■ I think you hit the nail on the head when you say bad parkers are probably bad neighbours and don’t recycle either. It does speak of a certain sort of person. I believe, like most things, it boils down to being considerate and thoughtful of others.
Do you pick up your dog’s poop? Walk on other people’s lawns? Do you litter? Do you keep your music low after 10 p.m.? My sister Wendy is fond of saying, “There are two types of people in the world: those who are considerate and thoughtful of others, and those who are not.” Jo-ann Hillis
■ I have a full-sized pickup truck.
The parking stalls have shrunk so much I quite often have to use one and a half stalls just to be able to get in or out of the truck without banging my door on the vehicle next to me, or have them do it to me. Allan Empey
My parking peeve is people
■
backing into parking spots instead of pulling quickly in headfirst. Especially if they are not good at it and have to try a few times. It’s all about their convenience for when they leave the spot, but have no regard for the person waiting while they attempt to back in. Linda Weakes
■ My wife and I both drive what you would call small cars. Simply a choice. Public parking spaces have been shrinking, along with approved parking stall sizes in strata developments. No, your SUV is not a small car. But nobody has told me what those dimensions are. So how do you enforce that, except by good behaviour and not pushing the obvious?
■ My peeve is able-bodied people who park in spots designated for people with disabilities. When asked, they almost always say, “I am in a hurry, so it doesn’t matter.” Well, it matters to someone who cannot manage the walk. Meanwhile, I live near a park with a boat launch next to a public wharf. Excellent entertainment is available at this time of year, watching people back into the water to off-load and reload their boats onto trailers. In between, the tow vehicle and trailer must be parked in my neighbourhood ... more opportunities to chuckle at the foibles of inexperienced parkers, with occasional swearing at the truly awful ones who damage our shrubs and rock walls and equal chance to appreciate the experience of experts. Julie Halfnights
If someone looks like they need
■
lessons, it could be the jerk who was next to them who left, forcing others to park uneven. ICBC could mandate a minimum stall size. All the door dings covered by ICBC are costing us all. I have been door dinged so much I don’t get repairs done. The last person was kind enough to leave a phone number on paper, but I tossed it. My rates would skyrocket if I went in for every ding. I’ve come to the conclusion that living in Victoria means never owning a presentable car, or truck, or motorcycle.