insects – The Countryman's Daughter

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

No Leg to Stand On

Daddy longlegs’ webs are rather scruffy compared to their scarier home-dwelling counterparts. But these harmless creatures can help keep the scarier spiders at bay

I hope you weren’t too disturbed by my column about house spiders last week. It’s funny how seeing just a picture of an eight-legged arachnid produces a physical shudder in many of us, so apologies for doing it again this week.

Our reactions go back to our evolutionary ‘fight or flight’ response. When we are under threat, our brain floods our body with the stress hormone adrenaline signalling to our muscles prepare to either run away or stay and fight. It’s estimated that around 4% of us fear spiders and as a phobia it comes second only to snakes. If we are truly phobic it means that we are fearful to the point of irrationality, and the terror we experience far outweighs the actual danger posed by the object of the fear.

If you are worried about house spiders then I suggest you rein in your instinct to clean because they have a natural predator that loves nothing more than setting up home in the corner of your living room. The trouble is though (especially for arachnophobes), this helpful predator is yet another spider. In its defence it’s much less scary and, unlike the house spider, does not whizz alarmingly across your floor at the rate of half a metre a second.

This creature is a friend to all housework-shy humans, a regular resident of neglected corners, cupboards and attics and a weird-shaped spindly thing, the lazy old daddy longlegs. Compared to the clean and ordered webs built by swotty old regular spiders, the slovenly daddy longlegs’ home is a shambles and described as ‘untidy’ and ‘without great design’ by the Natural History Museum. I can relate to that, because it reminds me of my side of my dishevelled university room compared to that of my unnaturally tidy roommate.

The light brown DLL (how I will refer to the daddy longlegs from now on because it is too much effort to type it out fully) is characterised by its long dark two-part body of abdomen and paler thorax (head end) to which are attached its eight ridiculously long skinny legs. It originated in the Sub-Tropics and after hitching a lift on an England-bound boat, was first documented in the south of the UK in 1864. Once it worked out that to survive our much chillier climate it had to stay indoors, it dared to venture up north and is now common all over the country.

It relies on its web to do the heavy lifting where dinner is concerned, but if that fails, it will get off its idle backside to hunt food, which includes – arachnophobes take note – other spiders. In the entomological version of analysing the rubbish left outside MacDonalds, someone in Hampshire decided to count all the food waste discarded by the slothful DLL in the webs found in his garden shed. He discovered that of the 102 bits of leftover critter, 63 belonged to house spiders, six were DLLs, and the rest were mainly other spiders. How the DLL loves a spider-flavoured meal, even if it is their own sister.

There are a couple of other minibeasts that we also refer to as ‘daddy longlegs’, but they are distinctly different. You will likely have seen the harvestman in your garden, which from a distance looks very much like our DLL but is not actually a spider. Found outside among vegetation rather than indoors in webs, it has a teeny tiny bulbous single body and six long wispy legs. The other is the crane fly, that lanky-legged winged thing that looks like a giant mosquito and has a habit of bobbing into your room late at night to flap annoyingly round your lampshade. It may be the most stupid of creatures but its (literal) saving grace is that if it gets trapped by its dangly legs, they simply pop off and it bobs away again, unperturbed by the fact it is a leg or two lighter.

In conclusion, if you hate house spiders but can cope with the odd messy web of the slothful DLL, then perhaps you should welcome it into your home as your ally rather than your enemy.

But my educational takeaway from this column is that I now have a valid excuse to do even less dusting than I do already.

I’d love to hear from you about your stories, memories, opinions and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 20th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 18th Sept 2024.

Along came two spiders

A massive house spider on my son Jasper’s hand. He’s not squeamish at all

The herringbone pattern has featured in a few of my columns of late, most notably in relation to patterns on stones used in Yorkshire moorland cottages, and as a decoration used by clock and watchmakers. But it also features somewhere I was definitely not expecting, and I challenge you to guess where. The answer lies further down this column.

Twice in the past week I have had to call on the services of my son Jasper to rescue me from being attacked by that most venomous and deadly of creatures, the house spider. OK, they are not venomous (well, not to us) and they are not deadly (again, not to us) but I don’t know if it is a result of global warming or what, but I am convinced they are getting bigger. Every year I come across them, they seem to be more monstrous than the year before.

I know by the way they scurry across the floor that they are more scared of me than I am of them. I am after all a gazillion times bigger, and I am not too worried if they remain at a respectable distance. I just don’t like the idea of them being ON me.

Jasper has no such qualms, which is why I summon him whenever I’m confronted by the not so wee beasties. Earlier this week, one was waiting at the top of the sitting room curtains, poised to pounce on me when I walked past, and the next night, another was skulking around my bedroom floor, no doubt waiting for me to get into bed so it could creep over my face while I was asleep.

Jasper’s way of dealing with them makes me shudder. He simply catches them, usually in his naked hand, then lets them wander around his arm a bit and has a good look at them while I panic in the corner. Finally he deposits them outside. It is utterly bonkers, isn’t it? Not the letting them go, but the letting them scuttle around his arm. The curtain one was quite high up, so he used his mobile phone as an aid, and the spider crawled on top of it. He then thought it was hilarious to wave it at me before putting it outside. For the record, we never kill spiders in our house because, as everyone knows, that will make it rain (But judging by our summers, there must be plenty of people who do!).

Anyway, back to herringbone – any ideas yet?

According to the Natural History Museum, a houses spider is: ‘A large spider with a brown cephalothorax (the fused head and thorax) and a tan-coloured abdomen that often has a characteristic ‘herringbone’ pattern. Six species of this group are commonly found in homes, and you may often find them in the bath or dashing across the living room floor.’ Although I did know what a house spider looked like, I had not heard a herringbone pattern mentioned before, and thus it provides a comforting (albeit slightly tenuous) link to my previous columns.

As the seasonal temperature cools, male house spiders leave their webs to look for mates, wandering into our homes through open windows, under doors, and down chimneys, making we unsuspecting inhabitants flip out when they pop out.

If you are not too squeamish to get close to one, you will be able to see its herringbone pattern quite clearly (or maybe you’d prefer to just look a picture up on the internet). Several other species seem to enjoy cohabiting with humans, including the daddy long legs, the lace web, the zebra jumping spider, the scary-sounding false widow spider, and the brilliantly named missing sector orb web spider. False widows look like their deadlier namesakes but are harmless (although they can give a small bite). The missing sector orb web spider is so called because of the way it weaves its web. From a distance, it looks like many traditional spiral webs that you find in your garden (called the ‘orb’ style in the trade), but with a couple of sections missing. When building its web, this spider will turn back every time it gets to that sector, so it never fills it in.

So next time you find a web with a big gap, you’ll know why!

I’d love to hear from you about your stories, memories, opinions and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th Sept 2024.

Flying by the seat of our ants

Continue reading “Flying by the seat of our ants”

Very hungry caterpillars

The box tree caterpillar can decimate a tree within days

They are very hard to control. These were found in the green waste bin some time after the tree had been chopped up and put in there

I popped in to see my friend Jane the other day and we sat on her terrace overlooking her beautiful garden. She spends hours making sure it is gorgeous, full of healthy-looking shrubs and flowering plants, but she said she had suffered somewhat of a tragedy over recent days. A shrub that she had planted more than 10 years ago seemed to die overnight.

She couldn’t recall its name but said: “It was beautiful with variegated green and yellow leaves, and one day it was fine, and the next it was completely dead!”

Jane had noticed in the days running up to its mysterious demise that it was covered in what looked like cobwebs, and then when it had died and she looked closer, she realised it was infested with caterpillars.

With the help of her husband, they dug up the sad tree, chopped it up and disposed of it in her green waste bin, at the same time as picking off and exterminating as many caterpillars as they could find. They both love animals and nature and weren’t happy at permanently getting rid of the creatures but reasoned that if they can destroy a whole shrub overnight, they cannot be a good thing to have in your garden. Sentimentality went out of the window.

I asked what the caterpillars looked like, and wondered which butterfly or moth they would eventually turn into. Jane showed me her bin with the remains of the brown and withered shrub and there were dozens of the critters still crawling around it. The caterpillars were a couple of inches long with green and black stripes and a black head, and clearly, they hadn’t managed to capture all of them.

Well, this is the kind of murder mystery that the Countryman’s Daughter thrives upon, and as soon as I got back home, I donned my detective hat and set to work. It took me a good minute of eager Googling to crack the case wide open.

Jane’s plant had been slaughtered by the Box Tree Strangler – I mean Caterpillar.

The Box Tree Caterpillar, which is active during spring and summer, is an invasive species that the RHS says is becoming one of the most common problems in British gardens. It predicts that 2024 will be a bumper year, with five times as many cases reported in the first four months of this year than last. This very hungry caterpillar stowed away on plants imported from east Asia in 2007, although the first moth found in a private garden was not reported until 2011. It quickly became a significant problem in the south east, and steadily began to make its way north, unfortunately landing in Jane’s garden this week.

The box tree is a common sight across the land, often being clipped into geometric shapes or animals by those fond of topiary. If you’ve been to places like Castle Howard, Broughton Hall or Beningbrough Hall, then you’ll have seen some fine examples. But if you have some in your own garden, you need to start regularly inspecting it for this particular critter. If you shake your box tree and moths fly out, then that’s a sure indicator they are laying eggs, so you need to get on the case pronto. The moth (Cydalima perspectalis) has white wings with brown borders, or sometimes is brown all over, and lays its eggs on the underside of box leaves. The eggs are flat and yellow and overlay each other, a bit like tiny fish scales. Initially, the problem can look like box blight, a fungal disease, but a tell-tale sign is the web-like substance that can appear all over the tree. The caterpillars weave this over their feeding area, and once you see that, they can decimate a whole tree within days.

Thankfully, they are only interested in the box tree, so a sure way of keeping them away is to not keep any in your garden. Even when a tree or hedge looks dead, though, it can be rescued with effort and persistence and there is lots of advice online. If you discover it, then you should report it (again online is the place to go to find out how).

One last question – if box tree caterpillars destroyed all the box in the land, would they die out or simply change their diet?

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 7th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th June 2024.

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