If they nuke us today and you are one of the unlucky that survives, there are three things you can count on to keep you company in the apocalypse: Keith Richards, water bears, and yellow jackets.
Keith Richards is a given — nothing can kill this man. There can be no apocalyptic future without him sitting on the rubble of an iconic monument that has been duly covered in mutant zucchini, doling out perfect licks in an odd tuning. Tardigrades, those funky, infinitesimal organisms sometimes called “water bears” will not even notice the end of the world. These extremophile invertebrates are found thriving in a variety of habitats and, through cryptobiosis, can survive in many harsh environments. The universe is their oyster, not ours. Humans are merely a brief trend in transient evolution — the 8-track cassette in nature’s march toward music subscription nirvana.
The yellow jacket though, has neither an impervious disposition nor enduring rock god divinity. They will survive on prolificacy and tenaciousness. I got my first yellow jacket sting shortly after moving to the country as punishment for failing to recognize that the apples were theirs, not mine. That first sting was followed by 4 more, only seconds later. It prompted me to consider that the lions, coyotes, and bears (oh my! thankfully, no flying monkeys here) were not the most likely critters to vex us. So, acquiring some knowledge of what we’re dealing with was in order.
Predatory, social, and adaptable to a wide range of environments, these feisty wasps are well prepared for the apocalypse. New queens overwinter in hiding and re-create a whole society every year, from Eve to everyone else, potentially producing more than 10,000 offspring before dying by the next winter. Feeding a high protein diet to their young (meat from animals and other insects, prechewed by powerful mandibles for their pupae’s convenience, which probably also facilitates a very important microbiome transfer) they ravage the land leaving no opportunity uninspected. Just how badly do you want that sweet, juicy apple? A single YJ can sting you over, and over, and over — possibly the first lesson Adam learned when he disobeyed the rules of the garden.
As adults, they savor any and all forms of sugar, including those secreted by their own larvae. In a cyclical process known as trophallaxis (a process that has been hijacked by ants as they practice their own form of animal husbandry with caterpillars and aphids) a chorus of “I feed you, you feed me, we’re one hungry fa-ma-leeee” rings out from their nests — in the ground, under the eaves, wood piles, the battery housing of the tractor, the attic, and all other places reasonably dry and protected. As summer turns to fall, the world becomes their buffet of omnivoral delights as they focus on bolstering the next crop of queens with every available nutrient.
My stings under the apple tree took over a week to heal, burning for days and itching for several more. I hung 3 yellow jacket traps which filled completely in 3 days. I emptied and hung them again. They filled up just as quickly, then filled with rain. I gave up, thinking that would be the end of it, but these are Pacific Northwest yellow jackets and a little rain isn’t about to stop them. They aren’t even close to being done for the season. The old apple trees continue to drop fruit, the cycle of life is ending for many plants and animals, and the yellow jackets remain busy consuming nature’s bounty. They will eat anything, tirelessly, and don’t even seem to mind zucchini for days on end...
To be continued.
Yellow jackets on an apple at Star & Sparrow.