The Hornet Wars: Part I – The Grape Harbor Incident

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I want to start this saga by saying "I am a nature lover through and through.

I understand our symbiotic relationship with most other things on the planet.

I spend as much time outside as I can, and I love it.

But there are some species whose very existence I question. I think universal agreement can be found when we talk about mosquitoes for instance.

For me, another enemy has earned its place on that list: ground hornets.

Oh, the tree and bush hornets aren’t exactly charming neighbors either — aggressive, painful, and always eager to make their presence known.

But the ground hornets… those tiny, aggressive devils… you don’t even know they’re there until you’re being assaulted, chased, and stung repeatedly.

Over the past decade, I’ve been at war with them every summer.

I’ve faced them in the open field, being ambushed while mowing.

I’ve battled them near tree stumps where they’ve built Jericho-like fortifications that have literally taken heavy machinery to dig up and eradicate a nest.

Each nest is a tactical challenge. It’s an endless, recurring war against an enemy that is relentless and fearless.

This is just the latest battle, and casualty list!

The Peace Before the Storm

It began, as it often does, on a happy, sunny day — the kind of morning when a man thinks only of peace, fresh air, and sweet harvests. (And of steaks on the grill and cold beers, but I digress)

The Queen Mother — my mother-in-law, Alice — had just arrived for a ten-day visit, along with the rest of the royal court (My father-in-law Jesse).

She requested an escort to the grape harbor at the far side of our three-acre yard. (along with extra hands for, "grab that bunch, and that bunch taskings as ordered") I was there to oblige.

This was no small cluster of vines — it was a 10-foot-high, 20-foot-long wall of sweet, purple grapes, heavy and ready for picking.

Alice moved with the calm authority of turn-of-the-century European royalty, filling her basket with the most perfect clusters.

Only pausing to eat a few as we chatted about the cherry trees and blueberry bushes that would be bearing fruit in a few weeks.

I mentioned that I’d seen red raspberries on the bushes along the fence by the house.

Alice lit up, "Oh, I love raspberries" she said, already planning her raspberry harvest.

The air was still.

So far, the mission was uneventful as we chatted and walked along heading to the raspberry row.

Alice casually nibbling on grapes from the basket, remarking on what a beautiful day it was… until we reached the side gate.

The Ambush at the Gate

I hadn’t used it all year. The gate that is.....

Windblown leaves had formed a pile, and made a small barricade along the fence, and around the gate.

I casually pushed the gate open, forcing it through the drift of leaves.

Alice darted ahead toward the raspberries along the fence on the other side.

Then the proverbial first shot rang out.

BAM! First sting. Alice cried out, dropping her grapes. BAM! BAM! BAM! "Ow, Oh, help! I am getting stung" she cried out!

More stings.

By now, I’d taken a couple myself and knew instantly what we were up against.

“Alice! Get in the house!” I shouted, swatting the air and drawing their fire.

She bolted, taking the long way around the house — fifty or sixty meters — with me right behind, stings landing on my legs, back, belly, and arms like hot needles.

We reached the door together. “Stand still, turn around!” I ordered.

Two hornets clung to her back. I knocked them to the floor and crushed them under my boot.

Inside, chaos. My father-in-law Jesse heard the commotion and demanded, “What’s going on!?”

Alice, still in shock, blurted to him in rapid bursts, “Angry bees, Jesse, they attacked us!”

She said while exposing a shoulder to show him a sting.

She turned to me: “Ohhh, Glen, what are you going to do with those angry bees?”

“Alice,” I said, “those are not bees. Bees are good. Those are damned ground hornets… and I plan to kill them. Kill them all.”

I said, nearly growled the last part.

“REALLY???”

“Yes. Really. But for now, the gate’s still open — keep the dogs inside.”

Delay and Preparation

Fate delayed my righteous vengeance.

The rest of the family was arriving so I had a Reagan Airport run that couldn't wait— an hour each way — to retrieve my 3 sisters-in-law and my seven-year-old nephew.

Every mile was a reminder of the battle, every bump pressing the stings into my skin.

On the drive back, I warned them all of the carnage awaiting us.

I rolled up my sleeve, showing the angry red welts.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ve been here before. I’ll take care of them.”

When we returned, I went straight to the garage.

Alice: “Glen, what are you doing?”

Me: “Going to burn them out and kill as many as I can, Alice.”

Alice: “But you’ll get stung again!”

Me: “Alice, not my first hornet rodeo.

You stay inside and keep the dogs in.”

Alice was mumbling something, a high pitched nervous type of chatter.

Sister-in-law Isabelle tried to reassure her mother: “Mom, Glen knows what he’s doing. ”She then turned to me: “What do we need to do?”

“Nothing. Grab some wine, stay indoors, keep the dogs in — the gate’s still open from the initial hornet attack, I need to get it closed.”

My nephew Maximus stepped forward, eyes wide. “Uncle Glen, are you really going to kill those bees?”

“No, Maximus — bees are good. These are hornets. And yes, I will kill them all.

Now stay inside.”

The First Strike

The Queen Mother and her court withdrew to safety. Wine bottles opening, and quiet hushed conversations.

The garage quickly became my armory.

"One quart of premium kerosene went into the pump sprayer".

Paper for a fuse? "Check."

Lighter? "Check."

In full up combat mode, I moved cautiously back to the gate, to the leaf pile hiding the enemy stronghold.

The exact entrance to Hornet High Command was obscured, but the sheer volume of attackers earlier told me it was a large nest.

A probing soak of the leaf pile with the kerosene revealed their position.

The buzzing rose as they began to emerge — too late.

I gave an extra burst to the hole and laid a ten-foot fuel fuse away from the pile.

A lit scrap of paper dropped.

VAROOM! 

Flames roared, smoke billowed. Hornets boiled forth from the hole in waves, flying straight into the fire like fearless, crazed kamikazes.

I worked the backside of the stronghold entrance now, with short bursts of kerosene to keep a blaze encircling the hole and burning away leaves to search for the second entrance (they always have two).

Thirty minutes later, the buzzing had virtually stopped, leaving only smoke and glowing embers.

I cautiously closed the gate, the painful stings still remining me of the devastation these little devils reap.

I returned the sprayer to the garage. The first counterattack had been a success — surprise achieved, technological advantage secured.

But I know this enemy.

Defeated, they were not.

Phase Two – Chemical Bombardment

Back inside: Alice: “Are they dead? Did you get stung?”

Me: “They’re damaged, but not defeated, Alice. And no — no stings, not this time.”

The entire family was there in the living room; everyone was trying to speak at the same time.

I raised my hands speaking loudly. “I’m going to Lowe’s,” I said more of a commandment than just a statement.

“Stay inside, stay away from the gate until I get back.”

At Lowe’s, I placed five jumbo cans of hornet spray on the counter.

The cashier paused before scanning the merchandise, his eyes rested on me intently momentarily before speaking.

“Nest in a tree, outbuilding, or garage?”

“Ground nest, close to a dying tree,” I replied.

“Damn… that’s rough. I hate ground nests. Hornets or wasps?”

“Hornets. The small, super aggressive ones.”

He went silent, stopped ringing up the cans, eyes distant, perhaps remembering the shock, and losses of his own war.

Finally, after a few seconds, he continued ringing the cans up and, murmured, “They get you?”

“Oh, maybe 20 stings,” "Got my mother-in-law too" I said.

I saw his shoulders tighten up, a long pause, a long slow breath, then a slow nod, as he finished ringing me up:

“Good luck,” he said handing me my receipt, spoken like a man who knows the odds, and has been there.

Back home I walked in with the newly procured weapons at the ready and grabbed one of the value sized cans of killer!

Maximus asked, “Can I come watch?” I quickly glanced over, the horror on his mother’s face told me the answer.

“Let me see how bad they are first, buddy, no need for you to get stung.”

Relief washed over her.

I headed out with one can in hand. The flames had burned the leaves away; the main entrance was now exposed.

The second wave of my attack began with short bursts into the hole as hornets tried to launch.

This was a critical tactical move, the foam grounded them, denying them air superiority.

They were weakened, but still defiant, they just kept coming and trying.

Quickly an entire can was exhausted, and the foam was full of hornets.

"I know there’s a second entrance" I muttered to myself looking around half expecting to start getting stung from the reserve wave.

I didn’t see it today, but I know from previous campaigns that both must be destroyed or they’ll regroup.

Next time I could get hit without warning again while fighting at the main entrance they will circle around me.

I am now aware, and armed, I have more cans of killer at ready for first light.

Reconnaissance will begin at dawn while they are still dormant from the night.

The secondary entrance is a must identify.

The 2025 campaign has begun.

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To be continued… Please finish the battle with me, go to Hornets Wars Part II in the FedtoFreedom.org Blogs.