ADVENTURES IN HYMENOPTERA

The following is the story of a journey that began in childhood with a little boy’s fascination with the six-legged denizens found within the confines of a small back yard in a small southern Indiana city. I guess I wasn’t more than two years of age when my two older sisters first taught me how to catch honeybees using a glass jar. I demonstrated a knack for it and, within a couple of years, was soon exceeding my sisters’ catch in a single jar.

The contest, you see, involved who could capture the most bees in a single jar. One has to be quick because bees can escape in the second it takes to try and trap another bee inside. In a typical pint-sized jar, I recollect being able to snag a couple dozen bees before the law of diminishing returns took effect, making more capture attempts fruitless. Why do I bring this up? Two incidents involving the contest are worth mentioning. First, I was a chubby child, and one time I opened my jar to take a peek at my bees. When I shut the lid quickly to prevent an escape, a bit of my tummy became pinched inside a not-so-closed jar and I experienced an insect sting for the first time in my life. It was then I learned of the soothing effects of moist baking soda on bee stings — a lesson I’m afraid would be needed many times during the next 35 years.

During the second incident, I fell while running to show my Mom all the bees I had caught. The jar broke and glass gouged a huge chunk of skin out of my thumb. I distinctly remember being more upset at losing the bees…or maybe that feeling was a result of the blood loss? No entomologist, even a five-year-old who hasn’t even learned the word yet, cares to lose even one prized insect, let alone a jar-full.

People ask me all the time, "Have you always wanted to be an entomologist?" I reply, "Well, not in my mother’s womb, but right after that, yes!" And over the proceeding years since, I have had numerous "adventures" with bees, wasps, hornets and other hymenopterous insects. Some of my experiences are humorous, others are not, but all have been instructive. A case in point: How did I learn how to safely extract a cicada killer wasp from an insect net? I got stung. Being prepared is always key for a former Boy Scout, but a few years back in Texas, I came upon a unique, and very large, velvet ant while hiking. Did you know that a baseball cap does not make an effective insect collection device (ICD)? Nor did that technique work a couple years later when encountering my first tarantula hawk. I got stung both times. Now I carry my collection "kit" everywhere when hiking.

UNWELCOME ENCOUNTERS. It is a fortunate thing that I am not allergic to insect stings considering the many times I’ve been stung. I learned last year (three times in one month) that a lawnmower makes an effective yellowjacket detection device (YDD). I didn’t know I could run as fast as Carl Lewis, but I can. Even so, those little "beestards" got me 16 times (including the two that entered into an angry discussion with my derriere). A friend remarked that, given my background, such events shouldn’t happen, but even when I knew the general area of the nest’s location, it still took 45 seconds or so to find the little entrance hole.

After treating my stings, I experimented. A small part of me wanted them to suffer, too, but I wanted to try something different in treating the nests — something that came to me in that moment of throbbing pain. I placed a small amount of insecticide dust in front of the entrance hole. I then started my leaf blower and placed it over the hole, thereby blowing the dust throughout the entire nest. I was able to use only a small amount of dust, yet get complete coverage throughout the colony. I managed to find success with a minimal application of insecticide — IPM in action!

What puzzles me most is that the nests had to have been in my yard all summer; why hadn’t I triggered an assault before, especially since I mow the yard at least every two weeks? And why didn’t I find all three colonies the same day? It took three mowings over a four-week period to uncover the three colonies. Such questions may never be answered, but it shows that one must be an astutely alert person to detect stinging pests before they become a danger to one’s safety.

A simple termite inspection one day transformed quickly into a dash of momentary terror — and a bit of shame. A customer, about 50 years old or so, wanted to accompany me as I inspected her home. Being an efficient termite hunter, I turned over a loose landscape timber only to uncover yellowjackets. Being a trained entomologist with vast, lifelong experience with these insects, I immediately recognized the imminent threat to my safety and well-being and made like the Roadrunner for the street. In retrospect, I’d like to think I yelled some sort of warning to the poor woman, but I fear I may not have — I left her far behind. I guess personal survival overrides propriety every time. Thankfully, the lady did not get stung and I took care of the yellowjackets free of charge, then finished my inspection. The customer, I recall, lost her interest in the termite inspection and spent the remaining time indoors. Smart lady.

My first summer in pest control, I worked as a termite technician in my hometown. At one farm house, I was given the task of drilling the block foundation. I recall the farmer’s wife was baking this wonderful-smelling homemade bread, so I may have become distracted. About halfway through, I discovered the house was also home to a honeybee colony living inside one wall. I had no materials for treating the hive so I figured if I moved slowly I could drill the few holes I needed in the foundation beneath the colony and move on. Well, it worked for a short while before I received a sting between the eyes. The law of natural selection was certainly in effect — it was stupid to proceed until the bees had been controlled. But pain has its rewards as I went home with a loaf of homemade bread from a sympathetic customer and with a valuable lesson learned. Since then, I have never knowingly worked around social bees and wasps without protective gear.

AMAZING BUT TRUE. Some situations involving bees and wasps can astonish and amaze — and yet still bring chuckles years later. A HoneyBaked Ham® store was experiencing a yellowjacket problem during late summer in 1982. Another technician, Tom, and I were dispatched to examine the situation. Imagine the fact that yellowjackets would find a sweet honey glaze, reeking of meat odors, to be attractive — incredible! And not just a few hundred wasps — tens of thousands of wasps were busy doing what they do. The store’s workers were afraid — and rightfully so — to run the yellowjacket gauntlet to the dumpster and dispose of the used glaze. Yellowjackets literally covered the ground. The store workers were reduced to flinging open the door and heaving boxes of glaze in the general direction of the dumpster. You can imagine the mess — and the yellowjackets. The ground literally moved with them.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. My solution was to treat the ground where the wasps were foraging using a residual EC insecticide. I suited up, gathered my sprayer, and vaulted into battle — sort of. To this day, it is the only time I have been unnerved in dealing with any pest situation. If I had a dozen yellowjackets land on my bee suit I had a thousand. Not thinking clearly (momentary panic has that effect), I ran back toward the safety of the truck. Tom — the smart one ensconced safely inside the truck — calmly leaned over and locked the door. I clearly recall an evil, ear-to-ear grin on his face. Then HE DROVE AWAY! I was shocked at his cowardly display, and I "renamed" him in every derogatory way you could imagine. By the time I jogged down to where he had parked the truck, however, the yellowjackets had become disinterested in me and had returned to their work. Tom howls with laughter each time he retells the story, describing the look on my face.

What did I learn from this? If yellowjackets are foraging over a dumpster or other situation, administer corrective action AFTER DARK when the yellowjackets, being the diurnal creatures they are, return to their nest. And the best solution was not a treatment; it was simply cleaning the site and instructing the store’s employees to only throw glaze away at night and then keep the dumpster’s lid closed. It was that simple. All they really had to do was take into account the insect’s biology and habits. A valuable lesson learned, indeed!

The only time I have been stung when I was actually treating a bee or wasp nest involved a bumblebee nest buried deep amongst a clump of pampas grass in Houston. I decided a night treatment was best given that the nest entrance could not be seen inside the clump. As I treated the nest by poking a duster tip into the grass, vainly searching for the entrance hole, a "sentinel" bee got me on the only place of my body that was exposed — the heel of my hand. I learned that night that if you’re going invest in protective bee clothing, don’t buy leather garden gloves — they’re much too short. My hand became exposed, and the bee likely zeroed in on my body heat. I now own a standard pair of elbow-length bee gloves, thank you very much. I also learned that in such situations, use every extension tip at your disposal to put distance between the bees and the attacker they want to destroy (you).

Hornets are usually the easiest social insects to control. Their paper nests are typically large and usually accessible. The primary difficulty usually occurs when nests are far above the ground. I recall one case where Tom valiantly held a step ladder on top of our company van while I perched precariously atop the ladder to treat a hornet nest about 15 feet off the ground. The elderly customer would buy none of my, I thought, rational argument that the nest was high enough off the ground and far enough from the house that they posed little danger to the home’s occupants. I’m sure, however, given his age, the customer had learned long ago what I would personally experience about 15 years later with my lawnmower-wasp/bee encounters. He was right in wanting the nest treated — I’m just thrilled I didn’t fall off the shaking ladder.

HOSTILE HORNETS. In most cases, a hornet nest is easily treated by poking the duster tip through the side of the nest and injecting a residual dust. Wait 10 to 15 minutes, then cut down the nest. I like to use the B&G Mini-Dust-R with ALL the extension tips employed (see lesson learned above). You do not have to go through the nest entrance hole. Still, there are those exceptions where the nest is situated in such a way the hazard in treating it is greatly increased. In Ohio in 1987, a branch manager called me and told me he "had one for me." That phrase, "got one for you," usually precedes me exposing myself to mortal danger. A bald-faced hornet’s nest was buried deep inside a thick shrub. It was late summer/early fall and the hornets were numerous, active and cranky — an attitude almost all social wasps acquire just before the onset of winter. The manager had a bee veil and heavy gloves on, but no bee suit. I didn’t bring my suit because I had planned to work in the office that day. I did learn, however, that Gore-Tex® rain gear makes an excellent alternative to a genuine bee suit. I guess I became a Gore-Tex Wasp Warrior that day.

Even with the added extensions on my Mini-Dust-R, I had to reach arm-deep into the shrub to reach the nest and treat it. Needless to say, the hornets became somewhat indignant and chased the onlookers who took up observation posts WAY TOO CLOSE to the scene of the action. Technically, unprotected onlookers should be INSIDE a building or vehicle when treating social bee and wasp nests. The behavior the insects will express is never predictable. You never know who is allergic to stings or will experience a serious reaction to a sting when such stings had previously proved non-threatening. Not only do you need to be safe, but you need to account for your coworkers, your customers and the public at large. This factor is especially true in the Southwest, where Africanized honeybees are now established.

DISORIENTED WASPS. Last fall, I learned something interesting about paper wasps. I was spending the day with a service professional and we called on one of his customers. The lady had no problems other than paper wasps entering the can lights in her kitchen, with a few wasps actually making their way into the house. Since the can lights backed up into the attic, I surmised, correctly, the wasps were nesting within that dark space. Finding the nest, however, proved somewhat difficult. An inspection of the attic revealed numerous dead wasps underneath each of the turbine vents extending through the roof. These vents uncharacteristically (in my experience) were actually properly screened to prevent insects from entering. In this situation, the wasps were becoming disoriented after leaving the nest, and, instead of making it outside, they were flying about the attic looking for a place to exit. Attracted to any light source, wasps would beat themselves against the vent screens until they literally ran out of energy and died. Other wasps were attracted to the only other light seen in that part of the attic — the kitchen can lights. I could detect no wasp nests in the attic even though at least one had to be present. So, I continued my inspection outdoors.

I slowly walked around the house, focusing my eyes on the soffits looking for any wasps flying to or from the house. At one point, I detected a wasp flying to and entering the gutter. Climbing up to that gutter on a ladder, I watched as other wasps landed on the gutter and crawled up underneath the shingle. Lifting the shingle revealed the gutters had not been installed properly with the flashing that is supposed to cover the gap between the fascia board and the roof decking. Paper wasps literally had a gap an inch wide all around the house where they — and other pests — could easily enter. (Keep this in mind the next time you think you have a well-sealed home, and you can’t figure out how pests are entering an attic.) Not being able to see the nest, I treated the soffit with a residual dust to kill wasps as they entered and exited.

I continued my inspection because I knew from experience if one pest source is present, often two or more can be found. I noticed a wasp seated on the fascia board just below the guttering. Using the ladder, I found several dozen wasps keeping watch, squeezed up in that crack. Somewhere in the soffit behind them was a large paper wasp nest. When I treated the crack, hundreds of wasps boiled out, falling to the ground. Further inspection revealed no other activity. The valuable lesson here to the service professional I accompanied that day was that paper wasps like to nest inside dark voids, like attics, just as much as they do on exposed areas, such as under the soffits. I was able to teach him a number of inspection techniques I had learned that were sure to benefit his future encounters with pests of all kinds.

SUMMARY. Treatment of social bee and wasp nests is not all that difficult when one determines the nest’s location, wears the proper protective gear and applies the proper formulation directly into/onto the nest. Most important, any person even mildly allergic to insect stings SHOULD NOT attempt stinging insect control, especially in situations involving social bees and wasps. The risk to that person’s health, even his/her life, is simply too great.

Only a relative few of my encounters with stinging insects are related here. I’ve left out such classics as the paper wasp stinging me in the forehead while I watched a football game in my own home. My wife will tell you it serves me right for watching football instead of doing something constructive — like looking for where all the blasted paper wasps were getting into the house. But hey, like many professionals in this business, I don’t like to take my work home with me — unless, of course, it gets personal, and I am forced to exact some measure of revenge.

The author is manager of technical services for Terminix International, Memphis, Tenn. He can be reached at shedges@pctonline.com