The Three Monkeys of see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil

Polistes Carolina, Vespula vulgaris, Dolichovespula maculate, Apis mellifera, and Bombus terrestris are terrible little creatures.  Their very presence strikes fear into most people.  Some people face death as these creatures buzz around them.  They are red wasps, yellow jackets, hornets, honey bees, and bumble bees.

The other day I had to rid an eve of a nest of polistes or red wasps.  As I bravely approached the nest with a can of wasp spray, I remembered what my daddy always said when big boys were picking on me.  Yes, I was a runt at one time.  He said, “Son, size don’t matter, a guinea wasp can make a cow run.”  They can make this oversized runt run also.  Anecdotal evidence suggests that Red Wasp stings feel more painful than stings from other Paper Wasp species.  I have had my share of stings.  I know that some people must carry an epinephrine pen because bee stings are fatal for them.  Fortunately, I do not need one.

My mind returned to 1960 at the eve of our house.  My daddy started building our house in the early to mid 1950’s.  Before he completed it, we moved to Illinois for three years and then returned back living with an Aunt until daddy completed the house.  You can imagine how a construction site looks after a three-year absence.  The eves of the house were full of red wasp nests.

Under the eve of the house was a huge red wasp nest.  It was full of red-orange death.  My Grandpaw Chapman used the larvae from the wasp nests to bream fish.  I watched him take a long stick and knock down a nest.  It looked like fun for a seven-year-old.  A short time later, I took a long stick and punched the orange-red covered nest.  It is hard to explain what happened next, but with the speed of a platoon of kamikaze dive-bombers, red wasps confused my sandy blond hair for a rival wasp gang buzzing the eve of the house for territorial rights.  Grandpaw did not have this problem.

I learned that day that red wasps are territorial and sting when provoked.  That evening I understood what it meant to be a knot head.  I had wasp stings all over my head.

Since that morning I have been chased down or either stung by honey bees that do not like being disturbed by a starting diesel John Deer tractor, hornets that do not like their nest being vibrated by an injector killing the their tree house, yellow jackets of the same tree that do not approve of the roots of their tree being jarred, and bumble bees that hate the roar of a bush hog trimming their yard.

I went to a friend’s house and a heinous monster greeted us.  Actually, the heinous monster was my friend whose face honeybees had distorted and his eyes swollen shut.  His dad and brother had been robbing a bee gum.  The younger brother did not like an itty, bitty honeybee buzzing around his nose.  Warned by his dad and brother not to provoke the bee, the bee unnerved the younger brother and he did an uh oh! Yep, he swatted at the bee knocking on his dad’s lip.

Honeybees seek revenge when humans steal their honey and take swats at their workers. The next day, a Sunday, was a humorous day for my friend’s household.  The swatting dad had huge lips, my friend had swollen eyes, and the younger brother, the one that escaped without a sting, had swollen ears for hearing the bee raid over and over.  I could not help but laugh.  My friend, his dad, and younger brother looked like the three monkeys of see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.  The evil was stealing itty, bitty bee honey.

With all those stinging thoughts, I readied my can of spray just like  a gun slinging cowboy flexing his fingers before a gunfight.  With the speed of a darting bee, I brutally executed those red stinging carriers of death.  One by one they dropped.  One last desperado hid behind the nest waiting to get retribution for his fallen comrades.  When he moved, I got him and he too floated harmlessly to the ground.  I blew the nozzle of the can and sang, “Another One Bites the Dust Uh Huh.”

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?  The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (I Corinthians 15:55-57 KJV).