Bea's Bees

Spring has sprung here in Maryland and the flowers and trees are a-pollinating. Over the past several weeks I've been puttering around the house, spring cleaning, weeding flower beds etc. Last week I noticed a large, and I do mean large, quantity of yellow jackets zipping around my front porch. Now before we go on, dear reader, I must share the following story:

Two years ago at around 5:30 am I was slumbering in my bed, lost in the land of Nod when suddenly I heard a loud clattering noise coming from my bathroom. I have a skylight with a vent in the ceiling and it's kind of neat to have sunlight at the center of one's home. It was one of the reasons that I bought the house. In years past I have had a succession of birds that have accidently fallen in through the vent. I vividly remember coming home from work and finding a stunned sparrow in my bedroom upstairs. I know how to remove birds from my home, and feel as comfortable as one can be in capturing them and setting them back outside. So we're back to that fateful 5:30 am disturbance. I chose to remain in bed at such an early hour figuring it was just some animals goofing around on the roof-no big deal. 7:30 am rolls around and I trundle out of bed and pause. My bedroom, at the back of the house, opens to a small landing and if you're standing (looking outward) in the threshold of my door immediatley to the right is the bathroom and straight ahead is the open door to the front bedroom. I was standing in the small hall between all three rooms, with my hair all Bride o'Frankenstein like, a terrible case of morning breath, and craving some tea when I noticed something very, very peculiar. Perched on the arm of the rocking chair in my front bedroom was a large grey squirrel, looking at me with lovely wide eyes and weirdly chirping. Incoherently, my first thought was, "Gee I never knew squirrels chirped like that." instead of the normal response of, "Holy #*&!&$ there's a live squirrel in my house!". I glanced into the bathroom and noticed that my new grey tufted pal was not appreciative of the decor. The shower curtain and rod were in a pile, bits of shattered glass, overturned plastic bottles and small deposits of dissatisfaction were scattered all over the place. I was amazed that I had slept though the mayhem. I pondered, "Why didn't he come in and wake me up? Wait, did I just think that? D'OH!! Get serious, how does one deal with a squirrel?" I'd never had guests of this nature in my home before. My sister has had bats, raccoons and cousins of my new furry companion relocating inside her home, it's a running family joke. (By the way she does an excellent baby raccoon noise.) The fog of sleep vanished and a voice inside my head boomed, "Shut the door and call for help!" OK good idea. It's always important to have A Plan. I stepped forward to close the bedroom door when Mister Fuzzy Britches twitched and made frantic chirping noises. OK it looked like he was gonna go Pompeii on me folks and I had visions of Clark Griswald dashing 'round the house with a confused squirel on his back from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Instead of following The Plan I bolted downstairs, frantically wondering who in the name of God do I call for assistance? My sister? No, she's at work. My brother-in-law? No he's at work too and is terribly allergic to animals. My father? No way, he'd need too many martinis and sobriety was in order!! I heard my buddy upstairs cavorting and knocking stuff over, things were starting to get a bit out of hand. A thought came upon me like a ray of sunshine through dark menacing clouds-Call An Exterminator! I grabbed the phone book and called the first one I saw. The receptionist answered and said, "*&^%^&*$ Exterminators how may we help you?" I fearfully explained my situation, breathlessly giving her the play by play of the invasion, detailing the size and ferocity of the Grey Menace. She calmly listened and did not interrupt. I blabbered like a fool and finished near tears. She responded in a sweet, patient voice, "Hold please." My head almost exploded while I waited for her comforting voice to come back on the line. I mean I had a LIVE SQUIRREL rocking away on my rocking chair-for the love of Pete this wasn't normal! Thoughts raced-What if The Grey Menace comes downstairs, where would I go? Has he gotten into the back bedroom? What does one use to clean up squirrel poo? Why didn't I shut the darned door? When would they send help? I wish I could brush my teeth so I don't knock the exterminator over with my breath! Can I afford their services? Would they care if I was still in my jammies? (Bathrobe and clothing were in the front bedroom closet, behind Mister Fuzzy Britches on the rocking chair). Thankfully she returned and said, "Someone will be there in 15 minutes." I detected a note of mirth in her voice but I was too relieved to become upset. I gratefully thanked her and hung up. She said only 15 minutes-right-not a problem, I'm a woman of the new milennium. I can handle many of life's burdeons. I'm tough! I just can't handle Mister Fuzzy Britches without a shower and a nice mug of tea.

10 Minutes later there was a knock on my front door, Exterminator Man had arrived. I fearfully told him The Story, there was understanding in his kind grey eyes. After listening to my babble he asked an odd question, "Do you have a broom?" My first thought was "Yes, it's parked right over there and I often ride it around the neighborhood on moonlit nights." but I decided that might not be the correct response. I grabbed the implement of Operation: Grey Menace and handed it to him thinking that he didn't have to clean up the mess in the bathroom, I could handle that. I waited like a coward downstairs while he went up and did battle. I heard footsteps, thumping noises, loud chirping, crashing noises, the sound of opening a window, I began to bite my nails. What in the name of God is going on up there???!!! I glanced out my living room windows trying not to think of the cost and damage. The morning was bright with sunlight, the grass was green, trees gently swayed and, in slow motion that NFL viewers would have been proud of, a grey airborne object gracefully landed on my front lawn and dashed up the nearest tree. Mister Fuzzy Britches had been safely evicted! My humble abode was now free. Exterminator Man came downstairs, handed me the broom and quietly said, "No charge ma'am." I wanted to get down on my knees and praise the Almighty Exterminator Dude but instead I thanked him. He said that he didn't hit the animal with the broom, just used it as a kind of prop to corral and drive the squirrel out the opened window. He left and I watched him zoom off to go save another client in need. It took me several hours to clean up the bathroom and surprisingly there was no major damage in the front bedroom.

Now, dear reader you know my family history of Wild Kingdom. On this week's episode, Bea's Bees. I mentioned above that I'd discovered a nest of industrious Yellow Jackets making a home in my front porch roof. The neighborhood kids gather and play on the porch and I don't mind that they do, it's just that I didn't want anybody getting hurt. Beyond the fact that it hurts when one gets stung, I'm clueless. The normal human being would go get a Bee Bomb or something of the sort to remove the unwanted guests. Other single women in this same circumstance might call on a brother, boyfriend or male family member for assistance. Men are good for this sort of thing. I'm not being sexist, I just think men enjoy climbing ladders and nothing says Drama like a man on a ladder. I have no brothers, no boyfriend and all male members of my family reside a great distance away. Knowing that somewhere in my family tree I have acquired the "Clark-Griswald-Disaster-Waiting-to-Happen-Gene", I chose to defy my genetic trait and called Exterminator Man. He arrived at Casa Bea and said, "Oh you're the woman with the squirrel, I remember you. You were very frightened that day." I wanted to crawl under the nearest rock. There's nothing like being remembered as bonehead, cowering in terror over an animal the size of one's foot. We joked about the Grey Menace and shared bird relocation stories. I told him about the problem and we went outside to investigate. We observed the small swarm of stinging insects. Donning his bee mask and heavy gloves he grabbed a small step ladder and went to work. He puffed some white powder from a squeezie bulb thing with a long spout attached into the nest opening. Hey I'm a chick, I don't do technical terminology very well. Dazed insects immediatley vacated with no angry displays of temper. 'Cause you just don't want a swarm of angry insects coming after you while you're standing on a ladder. I sighed with relief, no man-falling-off-ladder-drama, my porch will not be the site of children screaming in pain due to bee stings and I can now safely dig around in the flower bed. This time he did require a fee and for the bargain basement price of $163.00 my home is bee free for 30 days. I'll keep you posted on any more home invasions.