"There's something chewing in the wall."
"It's probably a mouse. Or a squirrel."
The hubs and I weren't terribly concerned. It wasn't the first time we'd found critters in the walls. Our house had been sitting vacant for two years before we moved in. We had taken it back from the wild. Squirrels, mice, spiders (so many spiders), flies, those creepy centipede things. We'd fought them all so far and won. Except for the flies. We seem to always have flies. But a mouse in the house was no biggie. The sound was coming from behind the head board so we shifted the bed out of the way and found a depression in the drywall. Yikes. That thing was hungry and probably coming through the wall soon. The chewing sound had been keeping us up for two nights before we finally got to the store to pick up some mouse traps. What? We were busy.
We pulled the bed out and blocked off the doors to the room. Then we let the cat in. The plan was for the hubs to jam a drywall knife into the wall. "I'm going for the kill shot first," he said. If I don't hit it and it runs into the room our cat will get it. She's a fantastic mouser. One! Two! Three!
I caught a glimpse of the beginning of the apocalypse. Out of the hole in the wall a swarm of yellow jackets erupted. Straight out of a Steven King novel or a child's nightmare. I was starting at the wall and didn't move until my husband started pushing me out the door. I couldn't look away. We rushed into the bathroom (the closest door) and slammed it behind us. The door is glass so we both stood there, noses to the glass, watching our bedroom fill up with bees. Angry, buzzing, swooping bees. I cracked the door open and called the cat. She looked terrified, and also a little upset that there wasn't a mouse, but hustled out of the room. We watched the bees for awhile, feeling lucky that neither of us got stung and that they were confined to the bedroom and not filling our whole house.
My husband is the bravest, calmest man I know. He put on all of his winter clothes, including his face mask, grabbed a roll of duct tape and a fly swatter and headed into the room. Like a real live MacGyver. He covered up the hole in the wall then opened the back door so the swarm could fly out. Which they did. God bless the architect who designed our home to have a door from the bedroom to the backyard. Then we killedabout 100 wasps. The hubs with the fly swatter and me rocking the hose attachment on my vacuum. We made quite a team.
Because they were wasps and not honey bees we called an exterminator to kill them. Yellow jackets are meat eaters and I didn't want to be their breakfast. Plus I was too scared to spend any length of time in that room. I spent three nights sleeping on our living room couch and every time I open the bedroom door I check for bees before I go in. I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life.