We share a driveway with the guys next door, two college kids whose parents bought the house last summer. Mostly these guys have been fine neighbors, much easier to get along with than the previous owner. But I just went outside and the guys' dad is there with a big can of insecticide. The problem is the cicada killer wasps.
Cicada killer wasps look imposing but don't hurt people in the normal run of things. You might get stung if a female flies up your sleeve accidentally, but they're not aggressive like yellowjackets. I had adopted a live-and-let-live approach to the ones that live between our two garages, but the neighbor is having none of it. He had hired some guys to fix his garage door, and they refused to do the work because of the insects.
He was unmoved by my amateur entomologist exploits, so I showed him the nest site and he sprayed it. My logic was that if he was determined to spray, he could hit the right spot instead of spewing chemicals around my kids' toys. But he is not content. He is spraying every hole in the ground he can find, and any live insect that flies near him.
Since it's hard to hear someone's tone in a blog post, let me be clear that I am not freaking out (toxins! cancer! disaster!), only rueful. Like this guy says, I liked watching them.
Oh, well, I think he's done spraying. I am off to recycle some old paint. In my Birkenstocks, of course.
P.S. Now his son is now walking around the garden with a giant -- like, 5-gallon -- sprayer unit filled with weed killer. The previous owner was a gardener and these college kids are not, and the weeds have spread. If I were really crunchy I would go out there with my guitar and serenade him in my Birkenstocks: "All we are saying, is give weeds a chance." Perhaps one of the boys would accompany me on a compost bin drum.
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