A good deed is ruined by in-ground sprinklers

On a summer afternoon in 1999, I was in the backyard at my mother's house. It was about 4 o'clock, and I was trying to keep busy before dinner. I decided to water the flowers in the backyard, and went to the side of the house to fill the watering can. As I walked to the faucet, I happened to glance up at the porch gutter. A wasp had started building a nest, apparently within the last hour because of its small size, no larger than the palm of my hand. I knew that my father's solution to that would be to douse the nest with Raid and throw it in the trash, so I decided to rescue the nest and relocate it.

I went into the kitchen for a glass jar and a stick of incense, and told my mother that I planned to move a wasp's nest. She looked at me like I was crazy-- she'd never heard of such a thing. I told her that I just needed her to steady the ladder, and I would do everything else myself.

It seemed as if someone was whispering in my ear all of the things I would need to do in order to move the nest-- I'd need to burn incense under the wasp to make her sleepy, and then she'd drop right into the jar. I climbed up on our rickety, paint-spattered wooden ladder with the jar and lit the incense stick, and wafted the smoke around the wasp. After a few seconds, she fell into the jar and I put the lid on it. I climbed down the ladder and put the jar on the porch, then went into the house for some glue.

"You're gonna get stung!" My mother said as she watched me climb back up the ladder to get the nest.

"No I won't-- see how small the nest is? There's only eggs in it-- the wasp was sealing the egg chambers. There aren't any adult wasps in it, that's why I can move it." My mother still flinched as I came down the ladder holding the nest, and went back into the house as soon as my feet touched the ground.

I carried the nest and the glue across the yard to the huge willow tree on the corner of the property. I spread glue on the top of the nest and pressed it against a low branch of the willow tree. It took a few minutes for the nest to adhere itself to the branch, and when I was confident that it wouldn't fall off of the tree, I went back to the porch for the jar with the wasp in it.

I unscrewed the lid, careful not to leave a gap between the jar and the nest-- the wasp was agitated since the smoke had worn off. Once her feet hit the nest she calmed down, and immediately began inspecting the egg cells for damage. I held my breath, hoping that she'd find everything satisfactory-- if she thought anything was damaged, she might abandon the nest altogether and start again somewhere else. But apparently everything met with her approval, because she started in on more construction as I stood there watching her. I marvelled at her maternal instincts, and thought how sad it was that so many human babies didn't have mothers this attentive.

After watching the wasp for a few minutes, I decided that everything was alright-- the wasp was completely ignoring me even though I was standing less than a foot away from her and the nest. I walked back to the house and told my mother that the mission was a success. I went to my room and read a book while supper finished cooking. I heard my father come into the house, but I decided against telling him about the nest-- he'd probably march over to it and knock it down.

My mother called me for dinner, and I walked into the kitchen. The backyard sprinklers were on, making a pleasant swish-swish noise. I looked into the backyard-- and saw with horror that the water was hitting the willow tree! I ran outside, looking for the nest. It was gone! I searched around the base of the tree and found the nest in the wet grass. The wasp was gone! She must have fled after the nest fell off of the tree!

I went back into the house feeling depressed-- it had all been for nothing! My good deed had been ruined! And my father had managed to do accidentally what he would have done deliberately if he'd known about the nest!

Later that night I realized that, although the nest had been abandoned, the wasp was probably safe and starting another nest somewhere... I'd saved her life, anyway.

About a month later, I moved into my own apartment complete with its own spiders and wasps. One morning I was putting some things on the balcony when I noticed something trying to crawl from the hallway to the balcony-- I could see tiny feet trying to get under the balcony door. I opened the door and saw a huge bee, possibly a queen, struggling to move her huge body along the linoleum. I held the door open for her, and she waddled over the metal strip on the floor and out onto the balcony. I went back into my apartment, feeling happy-- it seemed to be a sign that the bees and wasps appreciated my help.

I'm 37 years old, and have never been stung by a bee or wasp... I think they really do know when you're trying to help them. Moving that nest made me feel like an intelligent being, and not just a stupid hominid that's got to kill every insect that gets in its way. Bees and wasps were here long before us, and they'll be here long after we're gone-- they deserve respect.