A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident  

Last week I saw two wasps on the laundry room floor. One was dead; the other injured or tired. They were brown paper wasps. I wrote about them in the fall. Only the females sting. They are not aggressive and sting only when the nest is threatened. 

While wasps in the fall do not survive the winter, these have most of their year’s life span ahead of them.  I found two small pieces of cardboard. I used one piece gently to nudge the struggling wasp upon the other. The wasp cooperated, sat quietly while we approached the door, and flew away as soon as she could. 

The next day there were more, and the next. I lost count of the days and the wasps. Most flew away immediately, others crawled away slowly onto the sidewalk. They were always gone the next time I looked. 

Only fertilized females survive the winter in their nests, which are often built in nooks and crannies of human abodes, under sills or in eaves. There must be nests nearby. Some wasps get lost and find themselves in our basement, not a good place for them to live and prosper. No wonder they not only did not sting me, but seemed actively to cooperate with their rescue. Once on the cardboard, they never tried to fly away while indoors, only when they found themselves outdoors. Even those that appeared traumatized or took some time to find themselves to the cardboard, eventually righted themselves and escaped. 

Social isolation is wearying. In this war it appears I am a hostage. Helping the wasps, as trivial as that may sound, bestows a kind of agency. I was contributing to the world, even as I was withdrawing from it. This is not trivial to the wasps. 

There may be a great many more paper wasp nests in our part of the forest this spring. They will eat a lot of insects that prey upon our garden. I hope they remember that I am not a threat to their nests, but the guy who helped them through a difficult spring.