This time of year, the common paper wasp queens are busily tending their nests. I have one very prosperous nest over my back door stoop. The first young of a queen’s brood will not hatch until June so she is the soul car giver of a future empire.
Inevitably, a few wasps make their way inside my apartment as I keep my windows open all day and do not have window screens. It is quite comical to watch me trying to free these seemingly confused and suicidal royal ladies. (They have a nasty sting.) I know that they alone are the sole proprietors of a growing family. The death of one wasp this time of year means the death of possibly ten offspring as the Queen feeds them chewed up insects until they go through metamorphosis and emerge as female workers and are self supporting.
Well, I just saved another would be victim and got a nasty sting on my hand to prove it. Man, it smarts and the old home remedy of rubbing butter on the bite has not helped. Ah, what us good Samaritans go through in our noble causes.
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