While doing my early morning rituals recently I came across an article telling stories about wasps. Anyone who was raised here in this part of the Texas hill country will have numerous tales to tell on the subject.
There was something about seeing those numerous black clumps nestled in the huisache brush around the river loop area that we as country boys just couldn’t resist.
The fact that we would most likely be shirtless, barefooted and wearing cutoff shorts should have sent a signal to avoid stinging flying insects. Seldom did we get the message. As soon as one of us spotted a likely target we all started scrambling for the closest chunking size rocks. It was especially exciting if you could score a direct hit on a nest while one of your buddies had his back turned making him the center of attention to the pursuing tiny kamikazes.
There were some big empty lots covered with black wasp holding brush near our home where we joined James and Harper, the Jacoby boys, on many days to do battle.
We even dug a few foxholes to take cover when things got heated. I carried wounds to prove that our effort fell way short of what was needed in the way of finding shelter.
Oftentimes we proved the wasp were smarter than we claimed to be.
I don’t recall seeing red wasp when I was a kid. That’s probably a good thing because as later life has taught me, the black wasp variety is a lot less aggressive than his red cousin. They are known to attack without provocation. I have often considered that they might have been God’s way of teaching me a lesson.
There have been other occasions when I felt I was being punished for my early life transgressions. Soon after we bought our home with a big yard down here in Polander Town we purchased a riding lawn mower.
This was a big win for my son who wasn’t a fan of push mowers.
One day while he was mowing a wasp flew by and anyone who knows him will confirm that he freaks out when anything buzzes around his head.
As it turned out the only victim was one of the two recently planted pecan tree saplings in the front yard.
I won’t even bother you with the fact that it happened again to the same tree later on because today that is the biggest and best of my pecan trees.
The other one died after a fire ant invasion of the root system. Thanks to a squirrel’s survival instincts I do have a second tree today.
As my Growing Up In Bandera has progressed I have learned to live in harmony with most of the insect world.
I have ways of dealing with the red wasp and the yellow jackets are left alone as long as they don’t pose a danger to my grandbabies.
Editor’s Note: Want more Growing Up in Bandera? Get it in book form! Call 830-796-3718 or visit the Bulletin’s office for more information.
