Have you ever walked out of your house and felt like you walked into a wasps nest? Well, for me, it happens at my front door, but it’s actually the opposite… I’m trying to get into the house. The other day I came back home from doing something awesome, because why else would I have left the house to begin with, ya know? So I walked up to the front door and there was a wasp floating around. He was a nuisance enough that I had to back up in a full-on retreat. And I was so close to making it inside, so close.
So there I am, standing in my yard, coming up with a strategy to get in my own house. And this time it wasn’t even because I’d forgot my keys! Note: this video below happens more than I’ll admit in writing.
I thought, “Maybe if I’m casual about it, he’ll let me by.” I walk up, no no, I stroll up to the front steps. And you know what I saw? This wasp was poised, if I can use that word here, he was poised in attack mode, and to be quite I honest, I was impressed. I was like, “Look at this little guy protecting his…well, “his” domain.” His front legs were slightly bent forward, his back legs cocked and ready to launch. I’m being all breezy and he wants to start a fight.
Every time I tried walking up to the door, even striking up a convo on the way, find some common ground like “Hey, so you come here often?” or “Hey man, how’s your week been?” or “Can you believe the weather? Gosh it’s hot!”… but he just points his little body right towards me. And he never answered a single question. Rude. Try being a social butterfly once in a while, gee wiz.
Now anyone who knows me well knows I’m a pacifist when it comes to animals and things. I don’t want them to die, not really. Who am I to say, “You get to live. You don’t get to live,” ya know? But I found a stick and I had to beat him with it. I didn’t kill him, just sent him a message. And I was able to get by, rushing through the door before he rounded up his other wasp buddies.
I came back out about 20 minutes later, armed with wasp killing spray. Ok, yes I was a little sad about it, but I’m tired of waiting on the government to pass stricter wasp control policies. And the NRA– I mean the NWA (National Wasp Association) are millions strong! I would spray any wasp that I could… and feel bad about it later.
There’s one in the ivy, spray spray. There’s another hovering about, spray spray. Here’s one on the fence, sprayyyyyyy. This is when I realized I do have a genuine wasp problem and I might be bigger than that. The fence wasp fluttered around like a plane with one engine. He was going down. Sputter sputter and kaboom, he crash lands in the grass. You’d think that was satisfying enough, right? Nope.
I shot a wasp in Nashville, just to watch him die.
I stood over him as he crawled around haphazardly, just waiting for him to give up. So not only am I responsible for ending his life here on earth, but then to watch him suffer and die? That’s just sick. Now if I could just turn this whole thing into a country song, at least I’d have a way to pay for the therapy that I probably need for my sinister wasp behaviors!
-Out of the Wilderness