bees – The Countryman's Daughter

Deflowering the Truth

Himalayan Balsam, although pretty, is a threat to many native species of plant and wildlife. Picture by Hans at Pixabay

I love a Great British ‘Whatever’ competition show. I’ve avidly watched every episode of Menu, Bake Off, Pottery Throwdown and Sewing Bee. I’m not sure why they captivate me because I’m not an enthusiastic cook or baker; the last time I made pottery was when I was 12; as for sewing, I was thrown out of the Needlework class and dumped in Art because I was so bad. The last straw came when I accidentally sliced clean through my school tie as I was trying to cut a thread on the sewing machine. I was concentrating so hard on the thread that I failed to notice my tie dangling dangerously close to the scissors.

In the latest series of Sewing Bee, I’m rooting for Anna because she comes from our very own York. She’s also really really good, not only at sewing, but at coming up with exceptionally creative ideas for the very difficult challenges that are set every week.

The theme of the most recent episode I watched was Reduce, Reuse and Recycle and each of the three tasks challenged competitors to repurpose garments that had had a previous life.

On that note, I’m delighted that it is now cool to buy things from charity shops, when in the past it was assumed that only people who could not afford to buy from new darkened those doors. The amount of waste created by what we wear is mind boggling and I’m proud to admit that as I write this I’m wearing a dress that I’ve had for at least ten years. A few years ago, it would have been embarrassing to admit such a thing. Like most of us, I’m not a saint though, and still possess far too many clothes made in countries with dubious environmental and employment track records.

Last night, our girl Anna won the prestigious ‘Garment of the Week’ by producing an outfit with a clear and poignant environmental message about the threat of ‘invasive species’.

She chose Calico cotton which was used in India as far back as the 11th century. Named after the port city of Calicut in the province of Kerala, the unbleached cotton became popular in England thanks to the rise of the East India Company (1600 – 1874). Home-grown manufacturers of wool and silk were up in arms as their businesses suffered drastic reductions in revenue as their products fell out of favour thanks to this ‘invasive’ new material. It led to the Government introducing the Calico Acts of 1700 and 1721 which curtailed the import and wearing of Indian Calico.

Anna’s second nod to ‘invasive species’ came in the printed design that she placed onto the fabric. She chose the delicate pink flower of the Himalayan Balsam plant. It is indeed a very pretty bloom which looked gorgeous against the neutral palate of the unbleached cotton. But this plant is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

According to the Royal Horticultural Society, the species was transported from the Himalayas in 1839 and planted in private gardens. But its fantastic ability to self-propagate meant that it soon transgressed its domestic boundaries and infiltrated the wild, settling among the moist surroundings of our waterways. When mature, its seed pods explode, casting the contents far and wide. It grows quickly, depriving native plants of space and light. Our bees and dragonflies lose places to forage while the natural habitat of our river-dwelling wildlife diminishes.

Anna’s stunning dress reminded us of the dangers of introducing species from another climate into our own, no matter how beautiful they may look. Most sensible adults today know the risks of smuggling living things from foreign shores into this country. There are unmissable warning signs at airports and ports that leave you in no doubt about the risks involved.

So I was flabbergasted when someone I had only just met admitted that she loved gardening – and had stashed some bulbs from her holiday in Australia in her luggage which she had then planted in her garden. Just like those who planted Himalayan Balsam in their 18th century gardens, not for one moment did she pause to consider what might happen if the plant crept beyond her own wall.

I can forgive an 18th century gardener who would have had little knowledge of the potential consequences.

But that’s as far as my forgiveness goes.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 7th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th August 2026

Find your nesting instinct

Our fake wasp nest made from a brown paper bag hung on the gazebo to deter the buzzy pests

As I write this, I have just come back from a weekend away where one of my closest friends got married. It was a super occasion, small and informal, in which we celebrated the official union of two lovely people.

The day after they held a garden party where we could gather again to mull over the celebration. Several of us chose to sit in a spot under a gazebo while we chatted and enjoyed our drinks.

No sooner had we sat down than we began to be pestered by wasps. There were lots of them hovering around, determined to steal a sip of whatever we were drinking, or to take a closer look at our faces, our hairstyles or our clothes. It was extremely annoying and put a bit of a dampener on our enjoyment.

Some people are not troubled by wasps, calmly ignoring them or batting them away, while others shriek, leap from their chairs and flee as if pursued by wolves. I’m on the calmer end of the wasp-fear spectrum and my favourite dispersal method is waiting until they are close and then blowing at them as hard as I can so they are tossed away in a mini hurricane. This method is fine if they appear just once or twice, but if they are a persistent nuisance then the constant blowing makes it appear that my lung has collapsed.

Although wasps are more likely to sting than bees, they are still only supposed to do that when they feel threatened. However they are extremely territorial about their nests, and if they deem anyone or anything to be a danger to it, they will attack. I used to think it was an old wive’s tale that if you kill a wasp, its mates will come to take revenge, but in fact it is sort of true. A squished wasp emits a pheromone that alerts its comrades nearby who rush to the scene to leap into defensive action.

There are those who will defend this polarising insect. A few years ago I got talking to a country gentleman about wasps and mentioned my natural dislike of them. He insisted they got a bad press and went on to explain why they behave like they do in late summer, which I must admit, made me sympathise a bit with their irritating behaviour around this time of year. Although I have mentioned this tale before, it is worth repeating.

He explained that the wasps that annoy us are usually worker wasps and they are a bit Jekyll and Hyde. For the first half of the year, they are the benign Dr Jekyll, their job being to maintain the nest and provide food for the growing colony. In these early days of summer, insects and grubs are plentiful, and the busy wasp is too preoccupied finding enough protein to feed the ever-hungry brood so have no need to bother us humans. Once the colony is established, however, they are no longer of use and are cast out like a layer of surplus middle management. Suddenly they are homeless, and food supplies run thin. Competition with other redundant hungry wasps is fierce and in a desperate bid to survive, they will take whatever they need wherever they can find it. At this time of year, they crave sugar, and our penchant for al-fresco dining provides them with an oasis of sweetness in an otherwise barren landscape.

On the positive side, wasps are excellent pollinators for our fruits, flowers and crops, and also extremely efficient at pest control. Some sources I’ve read say that if it wasn’t for the wasp, we would be overrun with destructive insects that would make our lives misery.

Back to my garden party. One of the guests suggested a tactic to inflate a brown paper bag and hang it up nearby, shaping it to look like a nest. This then fools the wasps into thinking that they have infiltrated another colony’s territory, and so they buzz off in fear of being attacked to bother someone else.

So we did exactly that. We found a paper bag and hung it up. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the wasp botherers had vanished. Try it out for yourself and let me know your results!

What pest-deterring tactics do you recommend?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 18th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 16th July 2025

Stings in the tales

Steve D does not recommend disturbing a wasps nest with a ride-on mower

My last couple of columns have struck a chord with readers keen to tell me of their own experiences, which I absolutely love to hear, so thank you to all of you who have taken the trouble to get in touch.

Last week it was all about dimpled pint pots, and this week, it is all about that annoying critter that harasses those of us who enjoy drinking from our pint pots outdoors – the wasp.

I mentioned that in spring and early summer they like to eat protein in the form of other bugs and insects, which is true, but I have since learned that they also feed on the sweet liquid secreted by the wasp larvae that are still growing in the nest. By the end of the summer the larvae have matured into fertile male and female wasps, then leave the nest to mate. So the worker wasps have to find their sugary fixes elsewhere, and thus are drawn to the sweet stashes provided by their human suppliers.

I also posed the question of whether you consider the wasp to be a pest or a friend, and it seems, for the poor wasp, that the majority come down on the side of pest, with the odd person sticking their neck out to fight its corner. Usually, as in my case when a wasp stung my toddler son for no apparent reason other than grumpiness, the bad experiences colour our opinion of them for ever more. Such is the case of a friend of reader Lynn C: “Last night we were just talking about sipping out of cans. One fellow got stung that way and refuses to drink out of cans now. He’s scarred for life!” she says.

Michael K was stung on the way home from his holiday: “I was in the back of a taxi in Corfu travelling to the airport when one came in at speed landing down my shirt. I screamed out making the driver jump.” He adds that he was also attacked last year trying to tackle a nest himself. “Not a good idea,” he admits, and now employs the services of a ‘Wasp Man’ who charges £80 a visit. “Not bad for five minutes’ work,” he says. I think I’d charge double for performing such a risky operation, Michael!

Talking of nests, Steve D had a rather terrifying experience and advises: “Wasps do not like it if you go over their nest on the mower!” He was on a ride-on cutting his grass last year when he unknowingly ran over one. “Little b*****s went directly for my face,” he says. “I’ll never forget the moment I looked up and one of the little sods was making a beeline (see what I did there!) for the spot directly between my eyes. Hit me like a bullet. A painful week!”

Joanne C also had an alarming experience. “I was stung few weeks ago IN MY MOUTH!’ she cries. “The wasp had left its sting on my food and I ate it and it stung my lip and it really hurt…it swelled up and eventually eased…I’m not even afraid of them either. Can’t say the same for spiders though!” This tale intrigued me, because I know that bees lose their spike when they sting, but wasps don’t. Could it really have been a wasp sting, or perhaps a bee sting that had come away from its host to lurk with intent among the salad leaves?

Some of us acknowledge that our fear of them is perhaps unwarranted. Angela B admits: “I am so ridiculously and irrationally scared of the little @&*#s much to the amusement of my friends. I cannot remain still and grab the nearest person and literally shake! I don’t understand others’ fear of spiders as they don’t come looking for you like the evil wasp. Even saying the word makes me shudder. Spoils my summers!”

The lone voice that spoke up for the much-maligned wasp was Gareth C who points out: “Wasps are excellent pollinators, they hunt and eat aphids, and they will eat mosquitoes if they find them.”

Knowing that, then, I need to train one to sort out that irritating mosquito that loves to dive-bomb my ear in the dead of night. If you know how to train a wasp, do get in touch via the usual channels.

Read more at countrymansdaughter.com. Follow me on Twitter @countrymansdaug

This column appeared in the Darlington and Stockton Times on 15th and Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 13th September 2023

Is the wasp really a pest?

I have mentioned my dislike of wasps before, and it is about now that they can become extra annoying when you are eating or drinking outside. They just love to buzz about your burger, land on your ice cream, or take a dip in your pint.

Some people aren’t too bothered, and calmly bat them away, while others scream, throw their chairs back and flee as if pursued by hungry lions. Although wasps are more likely to sting than bees, they are still only supposed to do that when they feel threatened.

They are extremely territorial about their nests, and if they deem anyone or anything to be a danger to it, they will attack, so it’s best to steer well clear if you come across one. I used to think it was an old wive’s tale that if you kill a wasp, its mates will come to take revenge, but in fact it is sort of true. A squished wasp emits a pheromone that alerts its comrades nearby who rush to the scene to leap into defensive action.

One summer years ago we were staying at a holiday cottage where wasps had made a nest under the roof. My youngest son was playing in the garden when I noticed one flying around him. It was not in a good mood, even though my son, a toddler then, was well away from its nest and oblivious to it. The wasp was circling him like a predator and before I could intervene, it swooped in at lightning speed to sting him. My poor boy was shocked and distressed at the sudden piercing pain in his arm.

So that is why I don’t like wasps. They sting, sometimes for unforeseen reasons, sometimes multiple times, and it really hurts! Why this irritated wee beastie thought my little boy was dangerous still baffles me. Thankfully, though, my now 21-year-old has no memory of it.

There are those who will defend this polarising insect though. I was visiting a house in the country and got talking to a gentleman about wasps and my natural dislike of them. He insisted they got a bad press and went on to explain why they behave like they do in late summer.

The wasps that annoy us, he said, are often worker wasps and they are a bit Jekyll and Hyde. For the first half of the year, they are the benign Dr Jekyll, their job being to maintain the nest and provide food for the growing colony. In these early days of summer, insects and grubs are plentiful, and the busy wasp is too preoccupied finding enough protein to feed the ever-hungry brood. They give us humans and our food a wide berth because they can easily find what they need elsewhere. Once the colony is established, however, they are no longer of use and are cast out like a layer of surplus middle management. Suddenly they are homeless, and food supplies are running thin. Competition with other redundant hungry wasps is fierce and in a desperate bid to survive, they will take whatever they need wherever they can find it. At this time of year, they crave sugar, and our penchant for al-fresco dining provides them with an oasis of sweetness in an otherwise barren landscape.

Knowing this did make me sympathise a little with their plight. But I can’t say it makes me like them much more.

Read more at countrymansdaughter.com. Follow me on Twitter @countrymansdaug

This column appeared in the Darlington and Stockton Times on 25th and Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 23rd August 2023