The War on Wasps

Reader Contribution by Jacqueline Wilt, R.N. and C.E.M.T.
Published on July 9, 2014
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I hate wasps. No, seriously … I HATE WASPS. OK, OK … truth be told, I am PETRIFIED of wasps. Yup. This bona-fide country girl who wrangles 5-foot snakes, rides horses, shoots guns, swims in farm ponds, catches crawdads bare-handed, walks barefoot in the goat pen, and hypnotizes chickens is reduced to a quivering, sniveling, panic-stricken complete fool in the presence of one of these miniscule creatures from the depths of hell.

Logically, I understand I am much, much bigger and stronger than they are. But when I am dive-bombed by one of these evil fire-breathing demons, my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in high gear and I become a windmill of flailing arms, screeching unintelligible gibberish and sprinting in no direction in particular. I. Hate. Wasps.

We live in an old farmhouse. I don’t know what it is about old farmhouses … maybe the gaps in the construction that have formed over time … maybe there is an attic portal straight to the hell they come from … whatever it is, old farmhouses seem to birth wasps from thin air. It makes my life as a spheksophobic (that’s apparently what the phobia of wasps is called, according to Google) akin to living in a perpetual nightmare.

So, I have embarked on a Total Wasp Annihilation Campaign (T.W.A.C. for short). My only defense right now (aside from the aforementioned arm-flailing, screaming, running thing) is our atom-bomb wasp spray that covers everything in a smelly, oily, toxic napalm. I admit the stuff works, and I do enjoy watching the wasps (aka demons from hell) writhing in agony when they hit the ground after being liberally hosed with the stuff. But, I don’t enjoy the chemicals being liberally showered everywhere as a result of the ensuing battle. We need more weapons in our T.W.A.C arsenal.

Fly swatters and shoes have been put into action. These weapons work OK, but there are a couple of issues. First, wasps are most prevalent during the summer months. I am normally, blissfully, barefoot during the summer months. My feet thoroughly enjoy this time of release from winter captivity, and so shoes are not always at the ready. When I do happen to have shoes on my feet, they are usually in the form of cheap flip-flops and could hardly be classified as a weapon capable of inflicting any lethal form of blunt-force trauma.

Second, I do not make it a habit of keeping a fly swatter on my person at all times. And wasps are known to unleash hell at any given time. So, I am usually unarmed when an assault occurs. Not only that, but wasps, whom God has seen fit to grant an unnaturally tough tank-like shell coating to their bodies, are merely perturbed by the fly swatter. It just makes them mad. Well, mad-der. I think wasps have a perpetual chip on their creepy little winged shoulders.

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