The past three days have reminded me why Dave’s Blogography is one of my favourite stops in the worldwide blogosphere, though I am in fear for his safety.
You see, he has wasps.
Lots of wasps. They built a nest out on the tiny little deck at the back of my apartment. A big one.
Now I think that you, me and most people, if faced with this problem, would come up with roughly the same solution, but not Dave. You see, Dave is a Buddhist, and I never realized until now that being a Buddhist and encountering a wasp nest on your back deck would give you much of a dilemma, but Dave takes his faith seriously. Read on:
I didn’t want to hurt them
Uh, huh. Sorry if I part ways with you there, Dave.
but, since I’m paying rent here, they’re the ones who are going to have to move.
Yeah. Not die, move. So, how does he encourage them to move?
I whacked the board that the nest was affixed to with a broom handle, causing it to fall down. I figured if the nest was exposed, they would abandon it and go make a new one somewhere else. It was a good plan.
…in that Dave miraculously does not seem to have been stung, yet.
Except they didn’t abandon it. Instead they built a sun porch and remodeled the dining room. They’re not going anywhere.
And they really hate me now.
This was followed by about thirty comments from concerned Blogography readers which basically said the same thing:
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! KILL THE WASPS! KILL THEM NOW!! KILL THEM ALL BEFORE THEY FIND A WAY IN AND STING YOU TO DEATH!!!
This was followed by a second post, wherein Dave responded to his commentators suggestions and unveiled his new bold plan:
I can’t really bring myself to kill any creature, so I’m still debating how to handle this.
KILL THEM NOW!
I’m thinking that tonight while they are sleeping I will pitch the old nest into the neighboring field along with the TV tray. I’ll then soak down everything and try to make sure there’s nothing else for them to build under. If you don’t hear from me again, it’s because I’m dead. Stung to death by whatever these little hellions are.
This provoked the same thirty commentators to scream in fear for Dave’s life. Fortunately, Dave’s sense of self-preservation prevailed, and he bought a can of RAID. He now has wasp carcases on his balcony, and he’s feeling very guilty.
I don’t think this story is over. You see, before he used his can of wasp and hornet spray to coat the areas where they were building, Dave tried to spare as many wasp lives as possible by “shooing away as many as I could”. I fear they’ll be back — although if Dave managed to kill the Queen, maybe the nest won’t grow. Maybe.
But still, this speaks volumes about Dave’s character. Despite the fact that he draws violent cartoons wherein he vents over life’s many aggravations by depicting himself doing things like chainsawing the cars of drivers too inconsiderate to park properly, he really, honestly, has great difficulty hurting a fly.
Even if that fly was yellow and black, carried a stinger, hung out with about a thousand buzzing friends, each willing to try and kill you if you just look at them wrong.
Dave, Dave, you are a far, far better man than I am. I have a healthy phobia of all swarming, nesting, stinger-bearing insects, and were I in your shoes, I wouldn’t have bothered with the RAID. I would have called an exterminator immediately, and then embarked on a cross-country journey. I figure the angry wasps can’t get me if I run to Vancouver.
Erin: But, James, they have cells EVERYWHERE!
I guess I’ll have to rely on the NSA to keep these nests in check.
- Bees Make Good Pets?! — A New Yorker’s experience.