I was all geared up to tackle it myself. I don't, however, own a beekeeper's costume and was a little concerned as to how to protect myself in the event of a full-on assault by a swarm of angry Asian hornets. When I voiced my half-hearted intention to do it myself, my daughter in particular was horrified.
'Dad, please. Don't do
anything stupid.'
'But I've done stupid things all my life and I've lived to tell the tale.'
'Don't joke about it. Seriously, it's very dangerous.'
'I could wear that long black coat in the cave with
Wellington boots and gloves and a paper bag over my head if I cut some slits to
see through...'
'Stop it! It's not funny.'
'I'm sorry. Of course I'll
take it very seriously and be very careful. I have no wish to be stung by an
Asian hornet.'
It's a good job The Daughter wasn't here last summer when her mother was stung twice by a mere native frelon. She'd have been awake all night in sympathy, worrying whether her mother was going to pull through. As it was, she – my wife – didn't sleep a wink. She tried everything in her repertoire – essential oils, ice-packs, cider vinegar – but nothing worked, such was the pain. And so she groaned and moaned and tossed and turned her way all through a long night of torment.
Asian hornets are reputedly more virulent still than their bigger, yellower European cousins. They're about the size of a British wasp, but darker; more a shade of Frank Cooper's Orange Marmalade. Normally they nest high up in trees in what look like those Ikea Japanese-style paper lightshades. This time, though, they took a fancy to Our Lady's head. For the last few weeks, when we've sat outside on the terrace, we've watched with muted alarm as the insects have flown in with food for the larvae and disappeared down the sculpture's ear-hole. Occasionally one would emerge from her mouth and take off for the fields. They're reputedly not aggressive and Japanese Buddhist monks manage to live with them in peaceful co-existence, but we all found it very difficult to achieve a state of mealtime Zen under such circumstances.
One day I felt brave enough to try blocking the ear and the mouth with tightly scrunched kitchen roll, but it was gone by the following morning. For creatures that can kill a defenceless European bee in mid air, it was obviously a pitiful deterrent. They'd have simply bitten off as much as they could chew and taken the pulp to the larvae. Familiar as I am with the sound of wasps' nests, working under the eaves where they tend to create their strange cellular creations, I kept sticking my ear next to Our Lady's head for sounds of activity within. Nothing. Clearly, there was still time.
As a member of Pollinis, a small French association that lobbies for the bees in the French and European parliaments (against omnipotent multi-nationals like Bayer; good luck with that), I phoned their office in Paris for advice. A charming young woman didn't offer any, but referred me to some great new app on their website, where you can signal sightings of Asian hornets' nests. I went onto their site and dutifully filled in all the details: name, telephone number, location and so on. They never got back to me. Maybe they thought I was some merry prankster, intent on taking the piss. Maybe they thought that the new non-toxic heat-seeking missile thingy that they've developed might crack Our Lady's head wide open.
The next step was the local mairie. I telephoned Sandrine, the secretary – I'm determined to be on first-name terms, but she always calls me Monsieur Sampson – and dutifully gave her all the details, thinking that she might log them in some dossier to help the war effort. But she didn't, just gave me the name and number of someone in the sector who earns his living by fighting infestations of assorted insects. I phoned him up for advice. Could I deal with it myself? Would night time be the right time, when the whole squadron was at rest in their bunk beds?
'Non, Monsieur. C'est trop dangereux.'
He came the next morning. I stood at the side of the road to flag down his white van. He was a big strong country-type, physically better equipped than I am for any potential skirmish. I led him and his equipment to the terrace and indicated Our Lady's head. He looked at her in astonishment and checked whether I was absolutely sure. Right on cue, a lone bomber from 625 Squadron returned to base. No, I wasn't some callow, deluded Englishman. Yes, they were Asian hornets all right, but he'd never seen anything like it in all his born days. We should take a photograph, he suggested.
I plugged his compressor in for him, he donned a cheap facial mask and approached the statue with his weapon of mass destruction. A few puffs of toxic powder, a couple through the mouth and a couple through the ear, and a few seconds later we watched as a few of the workers emerged from the ear-hole and fell to the ground. It was not something I took any pleasure in, because it was a reminder of how easily humans can kill anything that inconveniences them, but better safe than sorry in this case and at least it would give the local bees a fighting chance of making it through the summer.
The whole operation took about five minutes and he charged €70. His work is guaranteed and it took around half an hour to get here. Most of his day is spent on the road. I took the opportunity of asking him if he'd been stung and lived to tell the tale. Three times, he told me. Once just under an eye, which swelled up like someone who'd been in the ring with Mike Tyson (my analogy, not his). And was it worse than a sting from a native hornet? Not particularly. And was there anything you can do? Nothing at all, apart from cortisone (although maybe a courtesan could also help to alleviate the pain), unless you catch it immediately – in which case either an ice cube or the end of a lit cigarette. Cold or heat.
So that's it. There are one or two lessons to pass on from the experience. If you have a statue on your terrace with a hollow head, block his or her orifices before it's too late. Use something other than kitchen roll to do so. Even if you think that you could co-exist with Asian hornets, remember that they are ruthless and deadly bee killers. And if you happen to get stung by one, you are unlikely to die, but locate the sting and put an ice cube on it for as long as it takes. I wouldn't recommend the cigarette heat treatment unless you want to end up with a longer-term injury.
And if you're a fearful coward, it's probably better not to attempt to do it yourself. Better to find a man who can.
