I went out tonight to look after the rabbits. It was the night to clean all the cage trays, tidy the shed and because I have 16 eight-week old grow-outs eating me out of house and home at the moment, go up to the shed loft to bring down more pellets and hay.
I went up to the loft, and realized something was off... there were way more yellow jackets just "coincidentally" around the loft door than there should be, which is to say, three of them were just hanging around. I opened the door, and that went up to 6-9 of them, but I couldn't see a nest. Just our pile of camping gear...
So I left the door open scurried down the ladder, reasonably certain that I had a yellow jacket nest, somewhere, cutting me off from my rabbit chow. And, of course, knowing I had some pellet bags in the loft, I'd left it until I was just completely out in my pellet bucket below. I didn't have much of a choice but to handle the suckers, or the rabbits would have to go hungry for the night.
I went in to ask my husband if we just happened to have any wasp spray around... and we didn't. But he did see the yellow jackets up there three weeks ago, when he was looking after the rabbits while I went off to do my Master Spinner classwork... he'd just forgotten to mention them. D'oh!
So with the yellow jacket nest having had a full three weeks to settle in, gather their forces, and grow in number I was forced to go to war in order to feed the rabbits.
I took off for a short drive to acquire some cans of Raid. I almost didn't find any, thankfully I asked and was directed to a tiny end cap with a few cans hiding on the lowest shelf. I got two. I then went home to plan my attack.
I made up the most ridiculous stand in for a bee suit ever. Thick hiking boots, denim jeans with thick sweatpants on over top, my winter hooded fleece jacket, and a contraption emulating a bee hat. I'd nestled a wire loop made from an old coat hanger under my fleece jacket, and used the hood to hold that in place. I then put on my thick wool fedora I'd felted from an icelandic sheep fleece several years ago, and pulled a mesh straining bag we use for brewing beer down over that and tucked it over and around the metal loop. I then zipped the front of the fleece jacket over top of the loop. To finish the outfit, I pulled on my black leather gloves.
It was also 90F/32C outside - I believe the technical term for these conditions in my climate is "Hot as balls, man". So, decked up in my multi-layer suit and my makeshift hat, I climbed up there with a can of Raid shoved in my arse-pocket, a can in my hand, at the ready, and my husband waiting below to hand me the rake. The rake came up, and the yellow jackets were getting antsy about me crouched there. They began to swarm around the loft entrance and myself. I tried to fire the can, and NOTHING HAPPENED. I was, at that point, desperately hoping my DIY bee suit was going to hold.
Trying to fire the can again did nothing. I couldn't find a pull tab, and there had been nothing about the can requiring activation on the instruction. More yellow jackets joined the swarm. I wasn't moving much, so I wasn't under direct attack, but a few were certainly crawling on me as the new thing, wondering what on earth I was. Then finally, I did something stupid. I pointed the can right at my face.
It didn't go off... but I DID see the problem. A little plastic nub covered the opening - preventing premature activation. I slowly pulled the nub down, and exposed the opening. The swarm was right in front of me, numbering probably 20 strong. I aimed the can and fired - SUCCESS! a quarter of the swarm dropped.
Knowing that I COULD take down the yellow jackets, I began the plan. I started hurling out the items of camping gear piled in the corner where we thought the nest was. Bike helmet? Out the loft door! Sleeping bag? Gone! More yellow jackets came out to play.
"Hissss." went the can. And another bug bit the dust. I kept throwing things aside, not being sure where the nest was actually at. Finally, I pulled and threw one of the hiking packs... and this monstrous, 3" long black shadow tried to scurry off towards the hay bale I'm sitting beside. "Hiss....pfffffffftttt" goes the can. I'm out of spray! I reach around and pull the second can out of my arse-pocket, and fumble furiously with the plastic nub in my leather gloves. Finally! I shoot again - and I KNOW I've tagged the giant, cockroach-like shadow. I'm pretty sure the queen is dead... with that sense of relief, I look around and realize the nest tore in two, and 70% of it is sitting beside my leg...
"Hisss! HIS! Hisss... HIiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssssssSSSS!" I unload my can at it. A couple of workers drag themselves out of the wreckage, thoroughly soaked, and begin their death throes. For the first time since I started this affair, the loft was silent. No buzzing insects. No hissing cans.
I look around for a second nest, and finding nothing, clear the rest of the gear out of the corner of the loft. I throw my prize, the rabbit pellets, over my shoulder, grab the Raid-soaked chunk of the nest and climb down the ladder. I have a brief chat with my husband about how we're going to clean the camping gear. He asks me what in the spray. Pyrethrins and petroleum distilates, I respond. His eyebrows perk up... petroleum distilates, you say?
He runs off to the garage and comes back with a blowtorch.
Taking the chunk of the nest over to the fire-pit, he lights the torch. The nest goes up in violent flames. The war on bugs is over, and I have my rabbit-kibble prize.
Now the real work begins... cleaning all those manure-filled cage trays.
I went up to the loft, and realized something was off... there were way more yellow jackets just "coincidentally" around the loft door than there should be, which is to say, three of them were just hanging around. I opened the door, and that went up to 6-9 of them, but I couldn't see a nest. Just our pile of camping gear...
So I left the door open scurried down the ladder, reasonably certain that I had a yellow jacket nest, somewhere, cutting me off from my rabbit chow. And, of course, knowing I had some pellet bags in the loft, I'd left it until I was just completely out in my pellet bucket below. I didn't have much of a choice but to handle the suckers, or the rabbits would have to go hungry for the night.
I went in to ask my husband if we just happened to have any wasp spray around... and we didn't. But he did see the yellow jackets up there three weeks ago, when he was looking after the rabbits while I went off to do my Master Spinner classwork... he'd just forgotten to mention them. D'oh!
So with the yellow jacket nest having had a full three weeks to settle in, gather their forces, and grow in number I was forced to go to war in order to feed the rabbits.
I took off for a short drive to acquire some cans of Raid. I almost didn't find any, thankfully I asked and was directed to a tiny end cap with a few cans hiding on the lowest shelf. I got two. I then went home to plan my attack.
I made up the most ridiculous stand in for a bee suit ever. Thick hiking boots, denim jeans with thick sweatpants on over top, my winter hooded fleece jacket, and a contraption emulating a bee hat. I'd nestled a wire loop made from an old coat hanger under my fleece jacket, and used the hood to hold that in place. I then put on my thick wool fedora I'd felted from an icelandic sheep fleece several years ago, and pulled a mesh straining bag we use for brewing beer down over that and tucked it over and around the metal loop. I then zipped the front of the fleece jacket over top of the loop. To finish the outfit, I pulled on my black leather gloves.
It was also 90F/32C outside - I believe the technical term for these conditions in my climate is "Hot as balls, man". So, decked up in my multi-layer suit and my makeshift hat, I climbed up there with a can of Raid shoved in my arse-pocket, a can in my hand, at the ready, and my husband waiting below to hand me the rake. The rake came up, and the yellow jackets were getting antsy about me crouched there. They began to swarm around the loft entrance and myself. I tried to fire the can, and NOTHING HAPPENED. I was, at that point, desperately hoping my DIY bee suit was going to hold.
Trying to fire the can again did nothing. I couldn't find a pull tab, and there had been nothing about the can requiring activation on the instruction. More yellow jackets joined the swarm. I wasn't moving much, so I wasn't under direct attack, but a few were certainly crawling on me as the new thing, wondering what on earth I was. Then finally, I did something stupid. I pointed the can right at my face.
It didn't go off... but I DID see the problem. A little plastic nub covered the opening - preventing premature activation. I slowly pulled the nub down, and exposed the opening. The swarm was right in front of me, numbering probably 20 strong. I aimed the can and fired - SUCCESS! a quarter of the swarm dropped.
Knowing that I COULD take down the yellow jackets, I began the plan. I started hurling out the items of camping gear piled in the corner where we thought the nest was. Bike helmet? Out the loft door! Sleeping bag? Gone! More yellow jackets came out to play.
"Hissss." went the can. And another bug bit the dust. I kept throwing things aside, not being sure where the nest was actually at. Finally, I pulled and threw one of the hiking packs... and this monstrous, 3" long black shadow tried to scurry off towards the hay bale I'm sitting beside. "Hiss....pfffffffftttt" goes the can. I'm out of spray! I reach around and pull the second can out of my arse-pocket, and fumble furiously with the plastic nub in my leather gloves. Finally! I shoot again - and I KNOW I've tagged the giant, cockroach-like shadow. I'm pretty sure the queen is dead... with that sense of relief, I look around and realize the nest tore in two, and 70% of it is sitting beside my leg...
"Hisss! HIS! Hisss... HIiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssssssSSSS!" I unload my can at it. A couple of workers drag themselves out of the wreckage, thoroughly soaked, and begin their death throes. For the first time since I started this affair, the loft was silent. No buzzing insects. No hissing cans.
I look around for a second nest, and finding nothing, clear the rest of the gear out of the corner of the loft. I throw my prize, the rabbit pellets, over my shoulder, grab the Raid-soaked chunk of the nest and climb down the ladder. I have a brief chat with my husband about how we're going to clean the camping gear. He asks me what in the spray. Pyrethrins and petroleum distilates, I respond. His eyebrows perk up... petroleum distilates, you say?
He runs off to the garage and comes back with a blowtorch.
Taking the chunk of the nest over to the fire-pit, he lights the torch. The nest goes up in violent flames. The war on bugs is over, and I have my rabbit-kibble prize.
Now the real work begins... cleaning all those manure-filled cage trays.
