Beneath a blue May sky they ride. Wasp, Red Wasp, Hornet, Yellow Jacket. The Four Horseman of My Most Hated Insects.

‘Tis the season, when this pack of wolves in bee’s clothing are out and about, stinging innocent bystanders, causing you to look like you’re practicing karate when you are just trying to shoo and dodge. Unless it’s a City of Byrd Yellow Jacket, they can all take a hike.

So far this spring, I am 6-for-7. Four have bitten the dust with Wasp Killing Spray, one with a garden hose, one with a fly swatter that I have turned into a Wasp Eliminator. The one I missed was a mid-air half-swat when Mr. Wasp juked and jived me just as I was about to Roger Maris him into the Insect Afterlife. I must give him props; the man had moves. Most do. I enjoy it when they do not.

I love a bumble bee and a honey bee. I’m sorry they are in the same sort of naturistic family or phylum. (I don’t think naturistic is a word but you know what I mean.) Bumble bees and honey bees get a bad rap because of their Satanic cousins. Wasps “and them” are Gremlins in a world of Chevy pickups and Mercedes. Both are rides, but…

Too bad, because unless threatened, a honey bee or a bumble bee wouldn’t hurt a flea. Or a bee.Love ’em as much as I hate their fellow flying insect brethren.

If I never see another one, I’m good. Unless the rest of the ones I see are dead. Then I’m extra good.

They feed on nectar and pollinate plants and have their purpose. But if it means no more wasps, I can do with a few less plants.

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