The Sting of Death

 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.

One day I had to rid the eve of the Bethel Baptist Building 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 pin because bee stings are fatal for them.  Fortunately, I do not need one.  That was not the case for a friend of mine.

During high school summers, I worked for Hiwassee Land Company.  We killed hardwood trees by injecting the trees with weed killer.  Yellow jacket and hornet stings were an everyday occurrence.  We were constantly jarring the trees where yellow jackets and hornets built their nests.  They retaliated by attacking from the sky and from the ground.  It was common to hear, “YELLOW JACKETS” as a coworker raced by us.  We ended each day bragging about how many stings we had.  The most I had in one day was twenty-eight, which was not the record.

Some days were comical.  One day my “future” brother-in-law had busted a zipper in his Levi jeans.  Yes, I know what you're thinking, and they did.  Yellow Jackets found the opening and they entered while at the same time my brother-in-law exited the jeans.

Another day my cousin, now a retired CPA with Buffalo Rock, whacked a small hickory and pumping weed killer into it.  Yellow Jackets covered his pants turning them yellow while hornets buzzed around a huge nest above.  My cousin stood there like a mighty warrior or dumb idiot, I let you be the judge, and swatted yellow jackets saying, “I think I’m in a yellow jacket’s nest.”  Then out of nowhere, a hornet zeroed in on my cousin’s back between the shoulder blades and stung with the force of a kicking mule.  After landing face down, my cousin leaped to his feet and running fast said, “YELLOW JACKETS.”

Other days at Hiwassee were more serious, deadly serious.  One day while taking a break a hornet buzzed around the face of my friend Rickey.  He waved the hornet away several times.  Suddenly, the hornet stung him under his left eye.  In seconds, Rickey broke into hives.  The Hiwassee foreman took him to the emergency room.  The doctor said that another sting would be fatal.  My friend never returned to the Hiwassee woods.

I pondered the wasp nest on the building, my mind returned to 1960 at the eves 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 yard looked like a jungle with all sorts of creatures making it their habitat.  The eves of the house were full of red wasp nests.

Under one 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 had 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 another orange-red covered nest.  It is hard to explain what happened next, but with the speed of platoon 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.  Boy, my head was sore.  I think it was because I was much smarter.  I learned more about red wasps that day than I can ever forget.

Since that morning, I have been chased down or either stung by honey bees that do not like to being disturbed by starting a 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.

While I were courting, I carried my date home one night after an evening of fun.  When we entered her home, she screamed as a heinous monster greeted us in her living room.  Actually, the heinous monster was her older brother whose face honeybees had distorted and his eyes swollen shut.  My date thought he had on a monster mask, but it was his face.

It seems that her dad and two brothers had been robbing a bee gum earlier that day.  The older brother did not like an itty, bitty honeybee buzzing around his nose.  Warned by his dad and younger brother not to provoke the bee, the bee unnerved my brother-in-law, 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 bee stung my father-in-law, and his upper lip looked the caricature of a bear’s head or that of a monkey’s lip.

The next day, a Sunday, was a humorous day at my date’s household.  Her dad had huge lips, her older brother had swollen eyes, and the younger brother, who escaped without a sting, had swollen ears from hearing about the bee raid over and over.  I could not help but laugh.  Her father and brothers 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 ready my can of spray just like 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)

What is your favorite bee, hornet, or wasp story?

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What do you think when you hear the phrase, “O death, where is thy sting?”

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What do you fear about death?

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Prayer:  Father, death is part of living.  All will experience it unless you return.  Help me when I approach death to face it with confidence that you give through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.  I know I will experience the resurrection after I die.  Thank you that death will be just a sting, but eternity will be forever.