Warning: If you are at all queasy reading about or looking at wasps, go no further. If you are sensitive to the sight of a wasp nest that has been sprayed with poison, move along. I'm writing about a difficult choice I made here, and I'm using my somewhat graphic photos because it felt dishonest not to.
The agaves... Oh, the agaves. They got larger than I thought they would faster than I thought they should. The ones I tested by growing in deep shade gained size more slowly but they all pupped prolifically.
Curbside, in full sun, the agaves are now presenting a physical hazard to pedestrians on our side of the street. Of particular concern, their potential to snag unwary elementary school children, trudging wearily up the steep hill in front of our house weekday afternoons after their bus stops at our corner. Agaves are hogging all the sunny spots, blocking the sprinkler system, extending their heavy and dangerously serrated leaves in every direction. They've simply got to go.
I was barely fifteen minutes into the removal process, sawing off agave leaves with enthusiasm and relief to finally be getting started. Just as I began to attack the right hand side of my inaugural clump, the jiggling motion unleashed a large swarm of
Polistes bellicosus, yellow and brown paper wasps.
They came speeding out, flying directly at me. I backed away equally speedily (adrenaline apparently a great lubricant for a "mature" lady's joints) and with a bit of flapping and squawking, managed to not get stung. As I retreated ever further away, the wasps kept coming out, circling in agitated fashion. The "Bellicosus" in their name turns out to be predictively descriptive.
Regular readers may recall I was doing pruning recently on the downhill side of the driveway when I was stopped in my tracks by the presence (and agitated behaviors) of wasps of two different types in other nests.
The first was a Polistes bellicosus nest and the other belonged to red wasps,
Polistes carolinas. I managed to get the bare minimum of work done that day, approaching plants to prune from a different vantage point, and the rest of that job I relegated to an "after it freezes" timeline to avoid further disturbance or the need for eradication.
Unfortunately this job, removing the agave clumps, just won't wait that long. Unlike with bees, there are no wasp keepers to call to relocate a colony. My hand was forced. Sadly, I realized this nest and the wasps defending it had to go. I reluctantly got the appropriate spray, and went back out to drench the nest, doing my best to assure the wasps were at least killed quickly.
As it was now late in the morning there were other wasps returning at intervals from foraging to their now dripping nest. They circled but seemed to understand not to land. Polistes wasps are social, and provide many benefits to the garden. Unless you are messing around close to their nest in some way they deem potentially threatening, they are not aggressive and co-exist peacefully with people and pets alike.
While I used to feel slightly nervous in their presence, now I welcome their ongoing patrols for pests to take back to the young in their nests. From what I've read, the spared foragers from the nest I destroyed will either go out to start their own nest or join a sister's nest as subordinates. As I stood watch from a safe distance, I felt both defeated and sorrowful. I say I garden for wildlife, and here I was, taking life. It was and still is unsettling and unpleasant.
There are those of you out there who will strongly feel I was wrong to poison the nest. (I first wrote that sentence using several different euphemisms but poison is what I used and poison is what I did.) Life is life. An argument can be made that I have no right to kill insects when they were only defending their nest and young. As a mother, I hope I would do no less.
There are also those of you out there who will think me silly to be bothered by killing a nest of wasps. These are not human beings after all, they are insects. There are plenty more wasps where these came from. I know of at least a dozen other nests and have no doubt there are others I have yet to encounter, all within the bounds of our small suburban lot. The two nests I discovered further down the hill were both spared after all, and some might find that a more than reasonable compromise.
I'm fairly certain once I'm able to replant the soon-to-be cleared areas I'll rediscover the joy gardening more often brings, with its focus on growth and life. I understand wild creatures live and die all around us every day.
I just don't like being the direct cause of their dying.
