Mid-July 2016
I’ve mentioned the insects several times in my musings. Today, I tell you about the wasps that ate Chicago.
Dawn is absolutely in love with Bocas. She keeps trying to find ways to convince me to move here permanently.
I could live here but for a few things. First of all is the sense of isolation. Without cell phone service and Internet, I feel like I’m living in the Nineteenth Century. I don’t know what’s going on with my family or who the Republicans nominated for president. (I know who the Dem’s will nominate, but keep hoping the GOP will come to their senses.)
Next is the lack of social interaction. We’ve met most of the neighbors on our side of the island (all 8 couples) and like them, but there is not a lot of social activity out here. We went into town yesterday and hung out at the Toro Loco bar. We’d been told it was where the local ex-pats hang out.
We got to meet a couple of good characters for future books, but it still takes us forty-five minutes to drive into town and Dawn has to drive home after I’ve had two Margaritas.
Then there are the insects. They drive me crazy. For the first month we were here, I was a mass of red dots from all of the insect bites. I itched constantly and often had blood running down my legs where I inadvertently scratched an insect bite.
When we sit in the living room at night and watch TV, hordes of insects of various sizes and shapes gather in the corner where the light is. It’s busier than O’Hare International.
Then there is the bathroom. When I go to bed at night, I have to fight a holding-action against all the insects to brush my teeth.
I finally decided to take action. Enough complaining, I was going to do something about it.
Joyce buys a bug spray called “Dos Tigres” (Two Tigers) by the truck load. It is a very efficient bug killer. It probably has every chemical banned by the FDA in it, but it gets the job done, sometimes too effectively.
I’ve mentioned the insects several times in my musings. Today, I tell you about the wasps that ate Chicago.
Dawn is absolutely in love with Bocas. She keeps trying to find ways to convince me to move here permanently.
I could live here but for a few things. First of all is the sense of isolation. Without cell phone service and Internet, I feel like I’m living in the Nineteenth Century. I don’t know what’s going on with my family or who the Republicans nominated for president. (I know who the Dem’s will nominate, but keep hoping the GOP will come to their senses.)
Next is the lack of social interaction. We’ve met most of the neighbors on our side of the island (all 8 couples) and like them, but there is not a lot of social activity out here. We went into town yesterday and hung out at the Toro Loco bar. We’d been told it was where the local ex-pats hang out.
We got to meet a couple of good characters for future books, but it still takes us forty-five minutes to drive into town and Dawn has to drive home after I’ve had two Margaritas.
Then there are the insects. They drive me crazy. For the first month we were here, I was a mass of red dots from all of the insect bites. I itched constantly and often had blood running down my legs where I inadvertently scratched an insect bite.
When we sit in the living room at night and watch TV, hordes of insects of various sizes and shapes gather in the corner where the light is. It’s busier than O’Hare International.
Then there is the bathroom. When I go to bed at night, I have to fight a holding-action against all the insects to brush my teeth.
I finally decided to take action. Enough complaining, I was going to do something about it.
Joyce buys a bug spray called “Dos Tigres” (Two Tigers) by the truck load. It is a very efficient bug killer. It probably has every chemical banned by the FDA in it, but it gets the job done, sometimes too effectively.
Our private lagoon
I planned my attack with great care. I would commence my offensive an hour before bed-time. I’d spray down the sink area and the bathroom before we headed to bed so that by the time we were ready, there would be no more insects.
I sprayed the shower area and to my satisfaction, mosquitoes and moths fell to the floor. I sprayed the area around the toilet with similar results. Unfortunately, a gecko got caught in the cross-fire and became collateral damage.
Then I sprayed the area around the sink. Job done, I returned to the main house with a smirk on my face. What a surprise this would be for Dawn, to be able to get ready for bed bug free.
About twenty minutes later, I went over to the bed room to see the results of my attack.
Holy Crap! Dozens of huge, black wasps were swarming over the sink and in the shower. What had I done?
I quickly shut the door, not wanting to become a pin cushion for the angry wasps.
I told Dawn what I had done and she said, “Didn’t you know that there are two huge wasps nests hanging from the eves just on the other side of the wall from the bathroom?”
No! Duh! I had seen two shapes hanging from the eves one night when I was out on the deck, but had assumed they were bats. TWO wasp nests?
I had to take action. I grabbed another can of bug spray from the main house (remember: Joyce buys them by the truck load) and planned another sneak attack.
I crept up to the bedroom door. It drags on the concrete when you open it, so I carefully lifted and pulled at the same time. I got in without a sound. I sprayed the swarms of wasps and beat a hasty retreat.
Half an hour later, I returned to the battle scene to see the results. Piles of the nasty creatures lay on the floor. Maybe a dozen or so of the wasps were still flying and I had to hunt each one down and spray it with my accurate can of spray while taking care not to get stung.
After another thirty minutes I returned. I was triumphant. All the wasps were dead, as was every other living thing in a fifty foot radius. All that was left was cleaning up the crime scene.
I swept up my defeated foes. They made a pile about a foot and a half in diameter and maybe four inches deep. I didn’t bother to count them, but there must have been a hundred or two.
Feeling victorious, I went to bed, about an hour late, in triumph.
I kept Dawn in the main house during my offensive. I figured that if she saw the wasps, she would never go into the bedroom again.
I sprayed the shower area and to my satisfaction, mosquitoes and moths fell to the floor. I sprayed the area around the toilet with similar results. Unfortunately, a gecko got caught in the cross-fire and became collateral damage.
Then I sprayed the area around the sink. Job done, I returned to the main house with a smirk on my face. What a surprise this would be for Dawn, to be able to get ready for bed bug free.
About twenty minutes later, I went over to the bed room to see the results of my attack.
Holy Crap! Dozens of huge, black wasps were swarming over the sink and in the shower. What had I done?
I quickly shut the door, not wanting to become a pin cushion for the angry wasps.
I told Dawn what I had done and she said, “Didn’t you know that there are two huge wasps nests hanging from the eves just on the other side of the wall from the bathroom?”
No! Duh! I had seen two shapes hanging from the eves one night when I was out on the deck, but had assumed they were bats. TWO wasp nests?
I had to take action. I grabbed another can of bug spray from the main house (remember: Joyce buys them by the truck load) and planned another sneak attack.
I crept up to the bedroom door. It drags on the concrete when you open it, so I carefully lifted and pulled at the same time. I got in without a sound. I sprayed the swarms of wasps and beat a hasty retreat.
Half an hour later, I returned to the battle scene to see the results. Piles of the nasty creatures lay on the floor. Maybe a dozen or so of the wasps were still flying and I had to hunt each one down and spray it with my accurate can of spray while taking care not to get stung.
After another thirty minutes I returned. I was triumphant. All the wasps were dead, as was every other living thing in a fifty foot radius. All that was left was cleaning up the crime scene.
I swept up my defeated foes. They made a pile about a foot and a half in diameter and maybe four inches deep. I didn’t bother to count them, but there must have been a hundred or two.
Feeling victorious, I went to bed, about an hour late, in triumph.
I kept Dawn in the main house during my offensive. I figured that if she saw the wasps, she would never go into the bedroom again.
The dogs guard the beach
That wasn’t the end of our wasp troubles though. Dawn found another large, very busy nest on the other side of the house. She asked me a couple of times to get rid of them.
Having dealt with wasp nest every summer in Seattle, I know how to handle them. I wait until dark, then put up a ladder, climb it and spray down the nest until it is soddened, then get the hell out of there.
I learned the hard way that you spray the nest after dark for two reasons. First of all, the wasps will all be home. You won’t miss any. Secondly, they’ll all be asleep. They won’t have time to wake up, get angry and come after you before they’re dead.
Of course, this is predicated on putting up the ladder in the daylight. I conveniently forget to put up the ladder during the day, that way I don’t have to attack the wasps at night.
Dawn has the patience of an angel. She puts up with my excuses time after time, until finally she takes matters into her own hands.
We had asked Cesar to spray a couple of ant hills next to the house. We’ve tried to fight off the ants with cans of Dos Tigres, but it’s a losing battle. We decided if we were going to make any progress, we would have to take the fight to them.
Cesar is a professional. He doesn’t kid around with cans of spray. He goes nuclear on them. He has a sprayer into which he pours deadly chemicals, then pumps it up and drowns his victims.
Dawn saw this and had a bright idea. “Let’s ask Cesar to spray the wasp’s nest.”
“No,” says I, “it’s still day light. The wasps will come out angry as hornets and sting everything in sight.”
You know the old saying, “If Mama’s not happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
I talked with Cesar and he said he’d handle it. I offered to get the ladder and he laughed.
“I’ve been doing this a long time. We don’t need a ladder,” he said in Spanish.
He walked up the steps and I closed all the doors and windows so the angered wasps wouldn’t get in the house.
“You can come in here if they come after you,” I said.
He laughed again. Stupid gringos.
I snuck my cowardly head out of the door to see what he was doing.
From the deck, he pumped up his sprayer and let fly. He easily hit the wasp’s nest, ten feet above him.
He sprayed it down good, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Not a wasp survived. They dropped like flies.
I don’t know what was in the spray, and I don’t want to know. I just know I’ll never use it around food, pets or children.
Now we can live in peace, knowing that no wasps would ever dare invade our premises again.
Having dealt with wasp nest every summer in Seattle, I know how to handle them. I wait until dark, then put up a ladder, climb it and spray down the nest until it is soddened, then get the hell out of there.
I learned the hard way that you spray the nest after dark for two reasons. First of all, the wasps will all be home. You won’t miss any. Secondly, they’ll all be asleep. They won’t have time to wake up, get angry and come after you before they’re dead.
Of course, this is predicated on putting up the ladder in the daylight. I conveniently forget to put up the ladder during the day, that way I don’t have to attack the wasps at night.
Dawn has the patience of an angel. She puts up with my excuses time after time, until finally she takes matters into her own hands.
We had asked Cesar to spray a couple of ant hills next to the house. We’ve tried to fight off the ants with cans of Dos Tigres, but it’s a losing battle. We decided if we were going to make any progress, we would have to take the fight to them.
Cesar is a professional. He doesn’t kid around with cans of spray. He goes nuclear on them. He has a sprayer into which he pours deadly chemicals, then pumps it up and drowns his victims.
Dawn saw this and had a bright idea. “Let’s ask Cesar to spray the wasp’s nest.”
“No,” says I, “it’s still day light. The wasps will come out angry as hornets and sting everything in sight.”
You know the old saying, “If Mama’s not happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
I talked with Cesar and he said he’d handle it. I offered to get the ladder and he laughed.
“I’ve been doing this a long time. We don’t need a ladder,” he said in Spanish.
He walked up the steps and I closed all the doors and windows so the angered wasps wouldn’t get in the house.
“You can come in here if they come after you,” I said.
He laughed again. Stupid gringos.
I snuck my cowardly head out of the door to see what he was doing.
From the deck, he pumped up his sprayer and let fly. He easily hit the wasp’s nest, ten feet above him.
He sprayed it down good, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Not a wasp survived. They dropped like flies.
I don’t know what was in the spray, and I don’t want to know. I just know I’ll never use it around food, pets or children.
Now we can live in peace, knowing that no wasps would ever dare invade our premises again.
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