There is an article in the NY Times today on how if you want a garden, you have to do some pest eradication. Killing may be part of the game. It is difficult to ally our ethics with removal of bunnies, deer, raccoons, and porcupines.
About two weeks ago, as we were cleaning out our basement, Steve was stung five times by wasps or yellow jackets. I need to google the difference. We realized they had tunneled a nest under one of the steps, and because the step is loose, as it was stepped on, it went down and disturbed our friends. Angry and frightened, they stung.
I figured I could just step around the step and we could all live in peace.
Then, the water heater went out. I warned the man about our flying friends, but he forgot, and was stung three times. He was cheerful about it and I gave him my son's now-unused weight set in exchange.
I suggested to the wasps that this was not how neighbors behave, and they started tunneling out next to the step. Compromise it seemed.
Then, Will came over and said he was not dealing with the wasps.
He walked all the way around the other side of the house each time he needed to go down below.
Then, Tim the painter came and by this time I had forgotten about my flighty friends, just being in the habit of stepping around their home. Tim got stung and, rightfully so, was not a happy camper. We called someone to come out and he came in the night, and now I see there are one or two flying around lost, but probably the problem is, in this moment, solved, and it all feels a little strange. We have a huge yard, and most of it we never enter.
A little compromise on the part of the wasps could have meant a solution more satisfactory to us all and maybe they are content to find a new home, a little off the beaten track, assuming they are coherent and alive enough to move on.
It is a big world, and when we each find and comfortably fit into our niche, there might be a space where each of us lives content and complete.
For now, I am watching the travels of a mole who adds new crumbly castles to my garden each night.