It is not unusual to hear older people complain about how little botany is taught in schools these days, a serious deficiency where young would-be gardeners are concerned. As serious, however, is the longstanding general ignorance of entomology, the study of insects. I count myself among the ignorami. From pretty well a standing start, I have spent my gardening life trying to discover more about this enormous, and hugely influential, phylum of the animal kingdom.
Only recently, for example, have I begun even vaguely to understand the biology of Vespidae or social wasps. This is shameful, I know, considering what an impact they have on the garden and those who work or relax in it. My interest was sharpened by an alarming incident of ‘swarming’ in August last year: despite my having hung a number of jam-pot traps, half filled with sugary liquid, in the branches, my greengage and plum trees were infested with noisy, aggressive wasps. It became impossible to pick the crop, so great was the danger of being stung. (And wasp and bee stings provoke a prolonged allergic reaction in me.) To see a ripe greengage go to waste is a terrible thing, since it is the most delicious fruit in the world. At the same time, my husband complained of wasps entering his beehives to rob the honey. For a short period of the summer, they are a menace.
Wasps live in colonial nests, often well concealed underground and impossible to find. They are useful to us in spring, when they pollinate flowers while seeking nectar, and in early summer when they take aphids and other garden pests, as well as carrion, back to the nest to feed the larvae. The young reward the adults by exuding a clear sugary liquid, which the latter consume.

Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in