It started simply enough.
HRH came home from jogging, and told me he’d seen a Japanese giant hornet buzzing around our landing. Weird, we thought, hope it goes away.
And then the next morning, we saw one outside the window. The next day there were two.
Crappity crap crap holy freakin’ crap.
(To paraphrase what I was thinking.)
The problem is that these guys are incredibly aggressive (seriously, one tried to kill my window,) and also highly allergenic. I don’t know the percentage of how many stung by these little bastards will die, but it’s high enough that every website I looked out screamed out in red font not to attempt home treatment, but to call an ambulance.
Red letters, people.
And HRH said I was ‘overreacting’ by going to the building manager, instead of just burning some mosquito coils. Because, he insisted, bees hate smoke.
Let me stop my eye rolling so I can see to type…okay all good.
Unbeknownst to our resident Master of Universal Knowledge, I happen to know a little bit more about bees than your average bird. My dad, who was a kind of a Reverend Jack-of-All-Trades, kept bees for a while. Three things I know for sure- never approach a beehive head-on, don’t play on the tractor when the sugar water is out, and that it takes a shitload of smoke to get the bees subdued. Mosquito coils won’t cut it.
So I decided to take MIL’s frequent advice: smile and nod, then do what you want.
The building manager tends to brush me off, but this time she paid attention and called the Bee Guy. He located a hive, and then the neighborhood association had a meeting.
More eye rolling…Sorry. I can’t help it.
Thank my lucky stars they were scheduled to have a meeting this weekend, or we might very well all be dead.
The Bee Guy came in the middle of the night. I assume he worked his magic, since I haven’t seen a giant hornet as big as my thumb yet today.
Hoping I never have to see one so close up ever again!