Go Yellowjackets!

Yellowjackets was the mascot for my high school.  We often said, "Go Yellowjackets!" in relation to sports teams competing at my high school.  Today, we'll use that phrase in a different context.  The other afternoon, I was talking on the phone.  I don't like to sit down, especially while talking on the phone.  I'm in a habit of walking around and talking.  If I can do two things at once, all the better.

I was walking down a river rock path that leads to the garden in an area of the yard we call "the grove."  There is a canopy of shade that's cast by live oak trees, Bradford pear and pecan trees.  We have some piles of wood chips that have been decaying into good, rich compost for a couple of years now.  I'll move this stuff into the garden with a pitchfork and wagon, and it will turn into topsoil in the garden in a couple more years.

As I was walking, talking, observing my surroundings, something caught my eye.  Thank the Good Lord that I noticed.  Something was flying.  At first I thought it was bees.  It was not bees.  The insects flying were going into (and out of) a hole in the mulch pile.  Can you see it?  It is in the center of the photo below:

I got up close and zoomed in.  Can you see 'em?  Those are bad boy, right there!  Some call them yellowjackets.  Some people call them ground hornets.  Whatever you call them, if you stir up a cloud of these angry critters, you'll be sorry.  If I had busted into that pile with a pitchfork, you would have seen this ol' boy run!  Notice that you can see they made some "paper" to round out their hole.

I told Tricia to watch her step around the mulch pile.  I'd hate to see the little lady get tore up by yellowjackets.  I promised her that I would deal with them after work on Tuesday.  I made good on my promise.  

We haven't used charcoal lighter fluid in years since getting a 'charcoal chimney.'  I had a bottle of lighter fluid that has been sitting in the garage for years, aging.  This will be its defining moment in lighter fluid lore.  I stealthily crept up to the yellowjacket nest, opened the top, and squirted a long, straight stream into the entrance to the nest.  It was like Luke Skywalker flying his X-wing starfighter into the Death Star to deliver a fatal blow to the Empire.  Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic, no?

Numerous yellowjackets came out of the nest, before succumbing to the fumes and perishing.  I didn't get stung, fortunately, nor did anyone else.  Go yellowjackets!

Here's the Buzz

The honeybees in our column continue to work.  They work building their colony within the column and work pollinating.  They'll also make honey although we have no means of accessing it.  We enjoy having them around.  Let me restate that.  I enjoy having them around.  Tricia?  Not so much.  She has repeatedly stated that it is not very hospitable to have a swarm of bees at the entrance to our home, but these bees have never stung anyone.  They are friendly bees.

This evening I stepped outside to check them out.  They're coming in after a hard day's work and long commute.  "Honey, I'm home!"  I think I heard one say.  (Sorry for the bad joke)  They enter the column from an opening where the column meets the roof of the entryway.

At night, the honeybees don't rest.  They continue to work.  One of the odd things they do is burial detail.  The bees remove their dead brethren and toss them out of the hive where they lie at rest for the viewing.  Then Tricia sweeps them into the flower bed.  Each night there are 10 to 15 (at least) dead bees.

As I was watching the bees, I recalled an incident from my youth - not with bees, but with hornets!  It was around the year 1976.  I was ten years old and we moved from town out to the country.  Five whole acres of woods to roam around and explore.  We didn't spend a lot of time indoors.  We made trails.  We built forts.  We dug up sassafras trees and made tea.  We dug holes.  We also found a Coral snake and Copperhead moccasins.  We found Black Widow Spiders and Bull Nettle, a stinging plant.

We were at an area of the property we named "Muddy Village" There was a stand of sweet gum trees that we needed to build a log-cabin-like camp.  With ax in hand I began to chop the tree.  It was perhaps 10 inches in diameter.  As I chopped, I began to become aware of a strange humming sound, getting louder and more pronounced with each swing of my ax.

Finally, I looked up and saw a big hornet nest attached about 20 feed up to a branch in the tree I was chopping.  Not only that.  The hornets were not INSIDE the nest.  They were quite agitated with my chopping.  They were swarming.  They identified the source of their agitation - ME, and decided to come after me.  

Image Credit

I dropped the ax, hollered at my brother, and we began running at a pace that would have pushed any Olympian star you can think of.  We were scared!  We finally made it back to safety without getting stung.  But we learned our lesson.  We didn't venture out to Muddy Village again until it was winter.  The hornet nest had actually fallen out of the tree and was lying on the ground.  It was the size of a basketball.  Fortunately, its occupants were gone.  We poked at it with a stick, counting our blessings for not getting stung by a swarm of hornets.

Fast-forward 44 years.  I like our bees.  I still hate hornets.  The honeybees can stay.  If, however, hornets move in, I guarantee you, they will not be welcomed.  We will evict them - with fire!