Backfiring Perfected: The Fake Wasp Nest
Wasps suck. They're like that drunk uncle, the one whose arrival is always preceded with, "oh shit, it's Uncle Mike." You know the guy. He's the one who shows up at every family bbq, and every birthday party, always slapping your sister on the ass and telling her she looks "niiiiiiice". Before he arrives, there's a palpable fear. And when he does finally show up, people try to run away. But there's no escape.
You can smack a wasp away, but they keep coming back. You can tell your uncle Mike to "take off" like the hoser he is, but he's too drunk to comprehend what you're saying. Kill a wasp, two more take it's place. Kill uncle Mike, two cops show up and spoil the fun.
The best thing to do is prevent wasps from building a nest in your yard. We purchased a giant fake wasp nest to scare wasps away. It works on the principle that wasps are territorial and will not build a hive within 200 feet of another.
In the 4 years we've been in our house, we've never had a nest. And I didn't want one. So I put up the giant fake hive. What happened? The queen wasp actually built her nest, an exact papery replica, about 10 feet away from it. As if it were comforting to her.
Fact: giant fake hives do not work. To the point, our fake beehive actually backfired completely and attracted wasps into the area. It was a joke, and I was the butt of it. But I didn't care - as long as my sweet, tender butt didn't get stung.
I watched the queen nursing her vile eggs for a day or two, and feared we'd soon have a massive infestation of unwanted uncle Mike's. With steady hands I aimed the hose and blasted the queen with a stream that would make a firefighter proud.
And nothing happened.
Neighbourhood children laughed and pointed as I hobbled my puny stick-ass into the house, fearing retaliation. Suz, attempting to prove her fearlessness, ventured out with a different weapon: The shears.
I cowered behind the door, like a piddling little momma's boy. Peeking out at Suz, I directed her towards the throbbing hive. With a mighty snip, the innards of the hive fell to the ground, larvae feebly wriggling around. And that was the end of the hive.
In the past two weeks, the loathsome queen has not returned. However, if there is one thing I want to return, it's the giant fake bee hive I bought at Canadian Tire. Either that, or hang it above Uncle Mike's toilet.